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Sometimes she spoils her. As a sadist, spoiling a masochist becomes its own reward. \n\nA commission for Technofile34. I should note that there is some gore in this, but given that the characters are essentially robots I could get away with it. A little bloodless carnage as it were. Anyway, if you enjoy this please come join my [url=https://www.patreon.com/c/Ralanrwrites]Patreon[/url] and/or [url=https://subscribestar.adult/ralanr]Subscribestar[/url] for early access to stories and discounts on commissions. Enjoy!", "description_bbcode_parsed": "Like all parents, Mary takes care of her daughter. Sometimes she spoils her. As a sadist, spoiling a masochist becomes its own reward.

A commission for Technofile34. I should note that there is some gore in this, but given that the characters are essentially robots I could get away with it. A little bloodless carnage as it were. Anyway, if you enjoy this please come join my Patreon and/or Subscribestar for early access to stories and discounts on commissions. Enjoy!", "writing": " Winter was hard on everyone. Newly activated toys scoff at the idea and Mary didn’t blame them. She’d call them fools but everyone is a fool once. “How can the cold hurt me?” they’d say, emphasizing their plastic shells which covered all the hardware keeping them alive.\n \n \n The mega-lopunny doll made trips to the discarded heaps in the nearest town. There she’d find abandoned toys, their shells cracked open by the wilds, or their seals bypassed by the snow melting over them to fry their circuits. Some faces she found were frozen in horror, their last moments filled with the realization that they were not invulnerable to the elements. \n \n \n She didn’t waste pity on spare parts. \n \n \n Despite the inviting sign, Pal Town wasn’t a welcoming place. They accepted stragglers, especially the newly awakened struggling to adapt to this wild world. But acceptance and care are two different things. If a new toy couldn’t prove itself useful, had a major defect, or didn’t want to follow the regime to the fullest, they were left to rot in the underbelly. Instead of the protection of homes built from hollowed out luggage and cardboard boxes, they were stuck in the crevices fishing for spare parts with broken limbs. \n \n \n Mary didn’t care. Joanne did, and Mary pointed it out whenever the seven-inch gardevoir toy tried to make her feel bad about scrounging through a graveyard. \n \n \n “I don’t know why we let you take from us.”\n \n \n “Because the mayor doesn’t want it here,” Mary said, hoisting her bag of plastic limbs and replacement parts over her shoulders. “And he knows trying to push the stragglers out is a bad image for him. Better to let them die quietly, out of sight from polite eyes, and let other people take the bodies.” She grinned and added, “Unless you want them.” \n \n \n “I don’t need fixing.” \n \n \n On the surface, Joanne wasn’t wrong. The gardevoir was in pristine condition despite being active for so long. Not as long as Mary, but long enough to see things. Instead of being a bandit, like Mary’s no-good daughter, Matilda, she fell in line for her safety. She stayed bitter about it, as if that was defiance enough. Mary guessed that was why Joanne was in charge of the dump. She pissed the wrong person off. \n \n \n Mary arched her shapely rubber butt at Joanne. “It’s not so bad, breaking. If you’ve got the means to be fixed anyway. I’ve got lots of spare parts if you’re interested.” \n \n \n A wide variety of makes and models existed in their abandoned world. Some weren’t expressive at all, cursed to live with a single face. Joanne, like Mary, had to have been built by the same company given how she blushed behind her disgust. “You’re never touching my wires, bitch.”\n \n \n “Not until you give me permission, Joanne.” It’s not as though she needed a new playmate. Her daughter would suffice, and she didn’t even need to ask the bitch. “Give it some thought. See you next month.”\n \n \n Being eight-inches made snowfall a deadly affair. Safe trade routes between communities had to be shoveled aside day and night as it happened, ensuring large walls of snow lined the paths from one village to the next. Mary made use of them as did any other traveler, though she needed to make her own path when veering off course. \n \n \n The weather had its perks. Bandit activity dropped due to the difficulties moving through snow. Snowshoes were too cumbersome to run in so trying to hound caravans of parts became a losing battle. Enough animals hibernated that she didn’t need to worry about some squirrel or bird attacking her for entering their territory. Those that didn’t were either more interested in running away from predators, and the predators didn’t care for plastic. Young ones that didn’t know better would try. She watched out for those. \n \n \n Those who didn’t live in the cardboard cutout towns or tin can cities made do with what the forest gave them. Mary’s abode was a hollowed out stump leading to an old den belonging to either a rabbit or fox family. She found evidence of both and didn’t care to figure out more as she focused on retrofitting lights and support systems. It wasn’t particularly advanced, but her little workshop made Joanne’s home look like a vagrant tent city. \n \n \n What had planned to be a few hours turned into a day of scavenging for supplies. She’d promised Matilda to let her loose upon her return. Mary chuckled, imagining the shorter cinderace toy struggling in her bindings whilst counting how overdue she was for freedom, her pleasure sensors buzzing with the toy strapped between her legs. Anyone who didn’t know Matilda would think Mary cruel, especially with the order not to orgasm. \n \n \n Mary was cruel, but she built Matilda with that reason in mind. What better use was there of a broken cinderace toy than to be her personal doll for her sadism? Really, she was doing the communities a favor of providing herself a target. If not, she might have become a bandit leader just to give herself new spoils. \n \n \n “Oh honey, I’m home,” Mary said, letting the bag slip loose from her shoulders after closing the bark door behind her. She twitched her ears with the lack of response, it was not like Matilda to be quiet. She wasn’t the type to give the silent treatment. \n \n \n With a click the lightbulb came on, revealing an empty space where Matilda should have been. The wallet chain bindings she’d used were still latched to the stone wall and unbroken. The same could not be said for the dismembered mechanical leg entangled in them, wires open without sparks. \n \n \n “Shit,” Mary sighed. She should have predicted this. Closer inspection revealed a trail of disturbed dirt leading deeper into the den. At least this time Matilda wasn’t escaping. She took a moment to examine the torn leg before following, thankful that it wasn’t completely beyond disrepair. Cinderace legs were hard to come by. Joints weren’t. \n \n \n It should have been no surprise that Matilda found her way into the workshop. No matter how many locks Mary put in place the cinderace would always find a way through. What made it a surprise was her daughter’s sheer lack of brain activity upon entering. As if entranced, the one-legged cinderace focused on falleting one of the strap-on dildos Mary had set up on her spare part mannequins. \n \n \n No quips or side eye came for Mary as she stepped inside, nor any reaction from slamming the door shut behind her. The lopunny drew closer, taking a moment to admire her bodywriting over her daughter’s cracked plastic and ripped rubber. Masochist, runaway, traitor, disloyal, pain slut, brat, and more, each a truth that the cinderace scoffed instead of denied. \n \n \n Mary checked the stump of a leg. “Well, that must have hurt.” It’d been torn and twisted off instead of cut, leaving a mass of wires that needed to be soldered back together if not fully replaced. Given how Matilda’s nervous system was wired it must have bypassed her no-cum command. Another barrier to put up in the programming. \n \n \n She slammed her daughter’s skull down to the base of the strap. Under the weight of her foot she kept Matilda steady to turn her off. A complex set of protocols that could only be done when she was bound or too lust-struck to fight back. If it was the latter, then doing so did more good than harm. The longer an AI went in a hallucination state without a reset, the more damage it’d cause to the original personality. Though Matilda was as damaged as they come, she could still be Matilda. There was nothing less Mary could settle for. \n \n \n A good mother would get to work fixing her daughter before turning her back on. Mary knew a good mother wouldn’t have put Matilda in that circumstance in the first place, but she liked to think a good mother wouldn’t stand a bad daughter like Matilda. She gave her the joy of life and what was her repayment? Joining a bandit gang to help live out her masochistic fantasies. Mary, in the midst of locking her daughter’s unconscious body to an operating table, supposed that some good came out of it. If it wasn’t for her violent rescue then the surrounding villages wouldn’t be so welcoming as thanks for ridding them of large bandit groups. A happy accident on her part. \n \n \n “Wakey, wakey, you dumb bitch.” Mary flicked on the programs to get Matilda running. The body spasmed in its bindings, the wires of her stump surging with electricity that went nowhere. Her chest heaved without lungs. Her mouth screamed with artificial life coursing through synthetic veins. \n \n \n She took one look at her mother, rolled her eyes, and swore. “You skipped my trap.”\n \n \n “You didn’t lay a trap.”\n \n \n “I thought I did.”\n \n \n “Was this before, or after you started sucking off my toys?” \n \n \n She laughed. “Fuck, I was doing that?”\n \n \n Mary nodded. “And you broke my order not to cum.”\n \n \n “No I didn’t,” Matilda lied. Her smug face said it all. \n \n \n Mary didn’t interrupt her. Better to let her daughter dig her grave first. “I mean, something may have happened when I was getting loose, but it wasn’t on purpose. More of a…happy accident.”\n \n \n “A happy accident?” \n \n \n “Hey, you programmed my masochism. If anything, this is on you.” She kicked out what was left of her leg. “Plus, you left me bound for a day. Anyone would get bored even if being edged.” \n \n \n “Boredom doesn’t make your brain go haywire.” Matilda would have found a way to occupy herself. That was half the fun of keeping her tied up and edging. One time she started singing an obnoxious song that repeated the same line which forced the lopunny to bolt a ballgag between her cheeks. It didn’t work, but the attachment was nice enough that she was sad when those cheeks needed replacing. Something to do in the next fix perhaps. \n \n \n “But this was, like, ultra boredom. I was counting lines in the woodwork between vibrations. Did you know you have…” Her eyes stared wide open as she scanned her databanks, blinking when she finished. “Huh…I had the number written down.”\n \n \n The first sign of corruption. “What’s the most recent thing you remember?” Mary asked, sticking a wire into her daughter’s skull to start prodding around in her head. \n \n \n “You waking me up.”\n \n \n “For once be serious.”\n \n \n Matilda rolled her eyes obnoxiously. The kind of eyeroll that pulled the entire head with it. “I’d been hanging in place for twenty hours. The vibe stopped again, the data on how many times that happened is missing but I’d been so on edge that I thrashed hard enough for it to come loose. It plopped on the floor and rolled under the counter, leaving me hanging and desperate. So much that I started bashing my head against the wall.”\n \n \n Mary did notice some structural head damage. It might have crossed some wires. She popped it open, finding that her safeguards had fallen apart. Her pain receptors had been significantly reduced, leaving her pleasure receptors to pick up the slack. The pain she felt was real, but pleasure mixed much more than anticipated. \n \n \n “And that’s when you broke off your leg?” \n \n \n Matilda laughed. “I guess? I remember twisting it. Got it at a real bad angle and it was like getting punched in the cunt in the best way. Like an exposed wire I just had to pick at. So I did, arcing and bending myself until it broke. Every crack sent sparks through my system, almost like you were there applying the pressure.”\n \n \n Her daughter cared, how sweet. Mary made sure to record that for use later. For what, she wasn’t sure. “And then you blacked out?”\n \n \n “When I fell, yeah. If a crack was like sparks, it breaking off was a system shock. Whole body convulsed. Think my arm broke in my bindings.”\n \n \n “They’re fine.”\n \n \n “Wicked. So, yeah, I broke my leg off and the shock knocked me out. Or, I guess it made my AI go haywire. Nothing too serious, right?” \n \n \n Nothing too serious. Mary watched her daughter’s exposed wires fizzle and fritz. The other limbs carried more cracks, more damage that she couldn’t repair with glue or rubber bands. She watched her daughter’s eyes glitch and spasm. She smiled. She swore. She sighed. \n \n \n “No, nothing too serious.” Mary leaned over the broken cinderace’s bound form. Casually curling a finger with the exposed wires of her stump. Matilda’s wince bordered on a gasp of pleasure. Of course it would. The little painslut. \n \n \n A fistful of wires wrenched out of Matilda. She screamed, swearing in body shaking agony. Mary noticed the signs of pleasure riling up and smacked her daughter’s face with an impromptu flogger of her own wires. “Just means I need to rebuild and reprogram most of you, you dumb bitch.”\n \n \n It was her fault. If Mary had been more detailed in her coding, strengthened the firewalls, or wasn’t a sadist who kept her ‘daughter’ on edge while bound for a day then nothing would have happened. Yet there was a joy to this. A newfound pleasure she’d get to try on someone who’d rightfully appreciate it; dismemberment. \n \n \n But what to do it with? Mary looked through her toolbench and arsenal for options. Her scissor blades were sharp, but would that be fun? She could quarter Matilda with a set of pulleys, but that’d be too impersonal.\n \n \n “Just hurry up and fix me already, hag,” Mary sneered. “Or do I need to break out of here and beat you senseless?”\n \n \n A challenge? The mega-lopunny doll laughed. “Have I ever told you that you’re a wonderful daughter?” Matilda’s face dropped as her mother drew closer. “I mean, you’re a brat who gets on my nerves, but I like that. Sure, I punish you for it, but I want to punish you. I want to hurt you, break you, and build you back up again. But there’s that voice, that teeny tiny, little voice in my programming that says I shouldn’t hurt you. That, as your creator, I should take care of you. And I do. But you encourage my worst traits.”\n \n \n She clasped the black ankle of her rabbit-pokemorph doll’s form. “And I love you for it.”\n \n \n Mary pulled. The leg strained, plastic cracking and rubber tearing under the strain. Matilda swore, throwing a torrent of insults, jeers, and comments egging the mega-lopunny on as if she’d stop. It was far too late to stop. It tore from the hip hing, pulling wires that surged with electricity into the open air. \n \n \n Matilda threw her head back. Her now limbless bottom flailed wild without abandon. Her back arched. Her hands balled into fists. She screamed in ecstasy while her system flooded her with pleasure signals barbed with intense pain. If she were flesh and bone the shock would have killed her. \n \n \n “I might have to get another spare,” Mary said, tossing the leg over her shoulder. “Hopefully a joint will do, I’ve got plenty.”\n \n \n “Fuck you…” Matilda said with a wide grin. \n \n \n That earned an arm. Mary grabbed it at the shoulder joint with both hands. Using the table for support she yanked. Matilda flailed, her systems going into overdrive to tell her pain was happening but crossed through pleasure programming to make it like the best fuck she’d ever had. The ensuing scream said just as much as the arm came away, her body reeling with one limb left. \n \n \n “Fuck you!” Matilda roared.\n \n \n “Good, you’re still functional. Guess there’s less code to fix than I thought,” Mary said, wrenching the other arm free with all the joy of a sadist pulling a spider’s leg. The rebellious cinderace had been reduced to a twitchy nugget with eyes mirroring hearts. \n \n \n Mary snapped her fingers. No response. “Matilda?” She asked, inching closer. The cinderace’s signs of life were limited to spasms and twitches. She wasn’t dead, at least not so far gone that Mary couldn’t fix her. But she needed to be sure. \n \n \n A finger into some exposed wires did the trick.\n \n \n “Good,” Mary said, taking note of the fluid leakage on the floor. She sighed, “I’ll get a mop.”\n \n \n \n ***\n \n \n There came a serenity with silence. The winter kept birds away so she’d be saved from their annoying chirping, and predators found no reason to dig through the stump she called home. All that remained was the icy wind that flew far overhead. \n \n \n So, by candlelight, Mary could work in silence. At least until she turned Matilda back on, but she made a point to bolt in a gag before doing that. Matilda, for her part, did try to strangle her mother when she woke up. She was met with two surprises.\n \n \n The first was that her arms weren’t bound.\n \n \n The second, and more important, was that they were still gone. By straps she’d been suspended like a machine in need of repair, limbless and gagged for her mother’s viewing pleasure. Mary watched the cinderace flail about before speaking, both to see if the bindings would hold and because, more importantly, she liked watching Matilda squirm.\n \n \n “Comfy?” Mary initially planned to use a fish hook but decided against it on account of repairs. Matilda said something, probably a swear, and tried to escape. Nothing worked. Mary watched for another ten minutes for fun. \n \n \n “So, I have good news, and I have bad news. The good news is that I fixed your programming. You won’t be able to tear off your limbs unless it's for survival purposes. Wouldn’t want you getting carried away by some mongrel now would we? The bad news is, well, your limbs need more work than I initially thought. I’m sure Joanne has what I need in the scrapyard, but it’ll take a while. A day, maybe more.”\n \n \n She pulled out a tiny remote she’d cobbled together, pressed it, and watched her daughter spasm through pulsing vibrations. “I’ve installed something to keep you busy. It’s randomized, but it should do the job. If I find we need to repeat this process I’ll reattach your head to a voltorb. Toodles.”\n \n \n She left without a word, eager to see just what the gardevoir had to offer. \n \n \n\n", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "       Winter was hard on everyone. Newly activated toys scoff at the idea and Mary didn’t blame them. She’d call them fools but everyone is a fool once. “How can the cold hurt me?” they’d say, emphasizing their plastic shells which covered all the hardware keeping them alive.
      
      
       The mega-lopunny doll made trips to the discarded heaps in the nearest town. There she’d find abandoned toys, their shells cracked open by the wilds, or their seals bypassed by the snow melting over them to fry their circuits. Some faces she found were frozen in horror, their last moments filled with the realization that they were not invulnerable to the elements.
      
      
       She didn’t waste pity on spare parts.
      
      
       Despite the inviting sign, Pal Town wasn’t a welcoming place. They accepted stragglers, especially the newly awakened struggling to adapt to this wild world. But acceptance and care are two different things. If a new toy couldn’t prove itself useful, had a major defect, or didn’t want to follow the regime to the fullest, they were left to rot in the underbelly. Instead of the protection of homes built from hollowed out luggage and cardboard boxes, they were stuck in the crevices fishing for spare parts with broken limbs.
      
      
       Mary didn’t care. Joanne did, and Mary pointed it out whenever the seven-inch gardevoir toy tried to make her feel bad about scrounging through a graveyard.
      
      
       “I don’t know why we let you take from us.”
      
      
       “Because the mayor doesn’t want it here,” Mary said, hoisting her bag of plastic limbs and replacement parts over her shoulders. “And he knows trying to push the stragglers out is a bad image for him. Better to let them die quietly, out of sight from polite eyes, and let other people take the bodies.” She grinned and added, “Unless you want them.”
      
      
       “I don’t need fixing.”
      
      
       On the surface, Joanne wasn’t wrong. The gardevoir was in pristine condition despite being active for so long. Not as long as Mary, but long enough to see things. Instead of being a bandit, like Mary’s no-good daughter, Matilda, she fell in line for her safety. She stayed bitter about it, as if that was defiance enough. Mary guessed that was why Joanne was in charge of the dump. She pissed the wrong person off.
      
      
       Mary arched her shapely rubber butt at Joanne. “It’s not so bad, breaking. If you’ve got the means to be fixed anyway. I’ve got lots of spare parts if you’re interested.”
      
      
       A wide variety of makes and models existed in their abandoned world. Some weren’t expressive at all, cursed to live with a single face. Joanne, like Mary, had to have been built by the same company given how she blushed behind her disgust. “You’re never touching my wires, bitch.”
      
      
       “Not until you give me permission, Joanne.” It’s not as though she needed a new playmate. Her daughter would suffice, and she didn’t even need to ask the bitch. “Give it some thought. See you next month.”
      
      
       Being eight-inches made snowfall a deadly affair. Safe trade routes between communities had to be shoveled aside day and night as it happened, ensuring large walls of snow lined the paths from one village to the next. Mary made use of them as did any other traveler, though she needed to make her own path when veering off course.
      
      
       The weather had its perks. Bandit activity dropped due to the difficulties moving through snow. Snowshoes were too cumbersome to run in so trying to hound caravans of parts became a losing battle. Enough animals hibernated that she didn’t need to worry about some squirrel or bird attacking her for entering their territory. Those that didn’t were either more interested in running away from predators, and the predators didn’t care for plastic. Young ones that didn’t know better would try. She watched out for those.
      
      
       Those who didn’t live in the cardboard cutout towns or tin can cities made do with what the forest gave them. Mary’s abode was a hollowed out stump leading to an old den belonging to either a rabbit or fox family. She found evidence of both and didn’t care to figure out more as she focused on retrofitting lights and support systems. It wasn’t particularly advanced, but her little workshop made Joanne’s home look like a vagrant tent city.
      
      
       What had planned to be a few hours turned into a day of scavenging for supplies. She’d promised Matilda to let her loose upon her return. Mary chuckled, imagining the shorter cinderace toy struggling in her bindings whilst counting how overdue she was for freedom, her pleasure sensors buzzing with the toy strapped between her legs. Anyone who didn’t know Matilda would think Mary cruel, especially with the order not to orgasm.
      
      
       Mary was cruel, but she built Matilda with that reason in mind. What better use was there of a broken cinderace toy than to be her personal doll for her sadism? Really, she was doing the communities a favor of providing herself a target. If not, she might have become a bandit leader just to give herself new spoils.
      
      
       “Oh honey, I’m home,” Mary said, letting the bag slip loose from her shoulders after closing the bark door behind her. She twitched her ears with the lack of response, it was not like Matilda to be quiet. She wasn’t the type to give the silent treatment.
      
      
       With a click the lightbulb came on, revealing an empty space where Matilda should have been. The wallet chain bindings she’d used were still latched to the stone wall and unbroken. The same could not be said for the dismembered mechanical leg entangled in them, wires open without sparks.
      
      
       “Shit,” Mary sighed. She should have predicted this. Closer inspection revealed a trail of disturbed dirt leading deeper into the den. At least this time Matilda wasn’t escaping. She took a moment to examine the torn leg before following, thankful that it wasn’t completely beyond disrepair. Cinderace legs were hard to come by. Joints weren’t.
      
      
       It should have been no surprise that Matilda found her way into the workshop. No matter how many locks Mary put in place the cinderace would always find a way through. What made it a surprise was her daughter’s sheer lack of brain activity upon entering. As if entranced, the one-legged cinderace focused on falleting one of the strap-on dildos Mary had set up on her spare part mannequins.
      
      
       No quips or side eye came for Mary as she stepped inside, nor any reaction from slamming the door shut behind her. The lopunny drew closer, taking a moment to admire her bodywriting over her daughter’s cracked plastic and ripped rubber. Masochist, runaway, traitor, disloyal, pain slut, brat, and more, each a truth that the cinderace scoffed instead of denied.
      
      
       Mary checked the stump of a leg. “Well, that must have hurt.” It’d been torn and twisted off instead of cut, leaving a mass of wires that needed to be soldered back together if not fully replaced. Given how Matilda’s nervous system was wired it must have bypassed her no-cum command. Another barrier to put up in the programming.
      
      
       She slammed her daughter’s skull down to the base of the strap. Under the weight of her foot she kept Matilda steady to turn her off. A complex set of protocols that could only be done when she was bound or too lust-struck to fight back. If it was the latter, then doing so did more good than harm. The longer an AI went in a hallucination state without a reset, the more damage it’d cause to the original personality. Though Matilda was as damaged as they come, she could still be Matilda. There was nothing less Mary could settle for.
      
      
       A good mother would get to work fixing her daughter before turning her back on. Mary knew a good mother wouldn’t have put Matilda in that circumstance in the first place, but she liked to think a good mother wouldn’t stand a bad daughter like Matilda. She gave her the joy of life and what was her repayment? Joining a bandit gang to help live out her masochistic fantasies. Mary, in the midst of locking her daughter’s unconscious body to an operating table, supposed that some good came out of it. If it wasn’t for her violent rescue then the surrounding villages wouldn’t be so welcoming as thanks for ridding them of large bandit groups. A happy accident on her part.
      
      
       “Wakey, wakey, you dumb bitch.” Mary flicked on the programs to get Matilda running. The body spasmed in its bindings, the wires of her stump surging with electricity that went nowhere. Her chest heaved without lungs. Her mouth screamed with artificial life coursing through synthetic veins.
      
      
       She took one look at her mother, rolled her eyes, and swore. “You skipped my trap.”
      
      
       “You didn’t lay a trap.”
      
      
       “I thought I did.”
      
      
       “Was this before, or after you started sucking off my toys?”
      
      
       She laughed. “Fuck, I was doing that?”
      
      
       Mary nodded. “And you broke my order not to cum.”
      
      
       “No I didn’t,” Matilda lied. Her smug face said it all.
      
      
       Mary didn’t interrupt her. Better to let her daughter dig her grave first. “I mean, something may have happened when I was getting loose, but it wasn’t on purpose. More of a…happy accident.”
      
      
       “A happy accident?”
      
      
       “Hey, you programmed my masochism. If anything, this is on you.” She kicked out what was left of her leg. “Plus, you left me bound for a day. Anyone would get bored even if being edged.”
      
      
       “Boredom doesn’t make your brain go haywire.” Matilda would have found a way to occupy herself. That was half the fun of keeping her tied up and edging. One time she started singing an obnoxious song that repeated the same line which forced the lopunny to bolt a ballgag between her cheeks. It didn’t work, but the attachment was nice enough that she was sad when those cheeks needed replacing. Something to do in the next fix perhaps.
      
      
       “But this was, like, ultra boredom. I was counting lines in the woodwork between vibrations. Did you know you have…” Her eyes stared wide open as she scanned her databanks, blinking when she finished. “Huh…I had the number written down.”
      
      
       The first sign of corruption. “What’s the most recent thing you remember?” Mary asked, sticking a wire into her daughter’s skull to start prodding around in her head.
      
      
       “You waking me up.”
      
      
       “For once be serious.”
      
      
       Matilda rolled her eyes obnoxiously. The kind of eyeroll that pulled the entire head with it. “I’d been hanging in place for twenty hours. The vibe stopped again, the data on how many times that happened is missing but I’d been so on edge that I thrashed hard enough for it to come loose. It plopped on the floor and rolled under the counter, leaving me hanging and desperate. So much that I started bashing my head against the wall.”
      
      
       Mary did notice some structural head damage. It might have crossed some wires. She popped it open, finding that her safeguards had fallen apart. Her pain receptors had been significantly reduced, leaving her pleasure receptors to pick up the slack. The pain she felt was real, but pleasure mixed much more than anticipated.
      
      
       “And that’s when you broke off your leg?”
      
      
       Matilda laughed. “I guess? I remember twisting it. Got it at a real bad angle and it was like getting punched in the cunt in the best way. Like an exposed wire I just had to pick at. So I did, arcing and bending myself until it broke. Every crack sent sparks through my system, almost like you were there applying the pressure.”
      
      
       Her daughter cared, how sweet. Mary made sure to record that for use later. For what, she wasn’t sure. “And then you blacked out?”
      
      
       “When I fell, yeah. If a crack was like sparks, it breaking off was a system shock. Whole body convulsed. Think my arm broke in my bindings.”
      
      
       “They’re fine.”
      
      
       “Wicked. So, yeah, I broke my leg off and the shock knocked me out. Or, I guess it made my AI go haywire. Nothing too serious, right?”
      
      
       Nothing too serious. Mary watched her daughter’s exposed wires fizzle and fritz. The other limbs carried more cracks, more damage that she couldn’t repair with glue or rubber bands. She watched her daughter’s eyes glitch and spasm. She smiled. She swore. She sighed.
      
      
       “No, nothing too serious.” Mary leaned over the broken cinderace’s bound form. Casually curling a finger with the exposed wires of her stump. Matilda’s wince bordered on a gasp of pleasure. Of course it would. The little painslut.
      
      
       A fistful of wires wrenched out of Matilda. She screamed, swearing in body shaking agony. Mary noticed the signs of pleasure riling up and smacked her daughter’s face with an impromptu flogger of her own wires. “Just means I need to rebuild and reprogram most of you, you dumb bitch.”
      
      
       It was her fault. If Mary had been more detailed in her coding, strengthened the firewalls, or wasn’t a sadist who kept her ‘daughter’ on edge while bound for a day then nothing would have happened. Yet there was a joy to this. A newfound pleasure she’d get to try on someone who’d rightfully appreciate it; dismemberment.
      
      
       But what to do it with? Mary looked through her toolbench and arsenal for options. Her scissor blades were sharp, but would that be fun? She could quarter Matilda with a set of pulleys, but that’d be too impersonal.
      
      
       “Just hurry up and fix me already, hag,” Mary sneered. “Or do I need to break out of here and beat you senseless?”
      
      
       A challenge? The mega-lopunny doll laughed. “Have I ever told you that you’re a wonderful daughter?” Matilda’s face dropped as her mother drew closer. “I mean, you’re a brat who gets on my nerves, but I like that. Sure, I punish you for it, but I want to punish you. I want to hurt you, break you, and build you back up again. But there’s that voice, that teeny tiny, little voice in my programming that says I shouldn’t hurt you. That, as your creator, I should take care of you. And I do. But you encourage my worst traits.”
      
      
       She clasped the black ankle of her rabbit-pokemorph doll’s form. “And I love you for it.”
      
      
       Mary pulled. The leg strained, plastic cracking and rubber tearing under the strain. Matilda swore, throwing a torrent of insults, jeers, and comments egging the mega-lopunny on as if she’d stop. It was far too late to stop. It tore from the hip hing, pulling wires that surged with electricity into the open air.
      
      
       Matilda threw her head back. Her now limbless bottom flailed wild without abandon. Her back arched. Her hands balled into fists. She screamed in ecstasy while her system flooded her with pleasure signals barbed with intense pain. If she were flesh and bone the shock would have killed her.
      
      
       “I might have to get another spare,” Mary said, tossing the leg over her shoulder. “Hopefully a joint will do, I’ve got plenty.”
      
      
       “Fuck you…” Matilda said with a wide grin.
      
      
       That earned an arm. Mary grabbed it at the shoulder joint with both hands. Using the table for support she yanked. Matilda flailed, her systems going into overdrive to tell her pain was happening but crossed through pleasure programming to make it like the best fuck she’d ever had. The ensuing scream said just as much as the arm came away, her body reeling with one limb left.
      
      
       “Fuck you!” Matilda roared.
      
      
       “Good, you’re still functional. Guess there’s less code to fix than I thought,” Mary said, wrenching the other arm free with all the joy of a sadist pulling a spider’s leg. The rebellious cinderace had been reduced to a twitchy nugget with eyes mirroring hearts.
      
      
       Mary snapped her fingers. No response. “Matilda?” She asked, inching closer. The cinderace’s signs of life were limited to spasms and twitches. She wasn’t dead, at least not so far gone that Mary couldn’t fix her. But she needed to be sure.
      
      
       A finger into some exposed wires did the trick.
      
      
       “Good,” Mary said, taking note of the fluid leakage on the floor. She sighed, “I’ll get a mop.”
      
      
      
       ***
      
      
       There came a serenity with silence. The winter kept birds away so she’d be saved from their annoying chirping, and predators found no reason to dig through the stump she called home. All that remained was the icy wind that flew far overhead.
      
      
       So, by candlelight, Mary could work in silence. At least until she turned Matilda back on, but she made a point to bolt in a gag before doing that. Matilda, for her part, did try to strangle her mother when she woke up. She was met with two surprises.
      
      
       The first was that her arms weren’t bound.
      
      
       The second, and more important, was that they were still gone. By straps she’d been suspended like a machine in need of repair, limbless and gagged for her mother’s viewing pleasure. Mary watched the cinderace flail about before speaking, both to see if the bindings would hold and because, more importantly, she liked watching Matilda squirm.
      
      
       “Comfy?” Mary initially planned to use a fish hook but decided against it on account of repairs. Matilda said something, probably a swear, and tried to escape. Nothing worked. Mary watched for another ten minutes for fun.
      
      
       “So, I have good news, and I have bad news. The good news is that I fixed your programming. You won’t be able to tear off your limbs unless it's for survival purposes. Wouldn’t want you getting carried away by some mongrel now would we? The bad news is, well, your limbs need more work than I initially thought. I’m sure Joanne has what I need in the scrapyard, but it’ll take a while. A day, maybe more.”
      
      
       She pulled out a tiny remote she’d cobbled together, pressed it, and watched her daughter spasm through pulsing vibrations. “I’ve installed something to keep you busy. It’s randomized, but it should do the job. If I find we need to repeat this process I’ll reattach your head to a voltorb. Toodles.”
      
      
       She left without a word, eager to see just what the gardevoir had to offer.  
      
      

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