P4TI-GY4RU

(WIP story about a hikikimori and his android assistant, very comfy shit)

The clacking of keys is orchestrated by ten mindless fingers in a lonely room, the flesh illuminated only by a monitor's cool glow, and the slight translucense of a blanket-blotted window just beyond it.

A young man slouches in a worn leather chair, half dressed with unkempt hair and an expression fit for a corpse without coffee. He watches the random searches appear on his monitor, boredly sifting through the results, then trying again. All the while, his earbuds supply a steady stream of repetitive, poppy sounds straight from the underground.

He's enclosed in a little bubble outside of the world. He knows the time, early morning, only thanks to the clock at the top of his screen. Any contrary truth would be unknown to him, not that he'd care to be corrected.

Three abrupt cracks on a wooden surface resound through the foyer just over the music. The typing stops in an instant, the hikikimori leaning away from his computer and throwing a glance over his shoulder to inspect his door, wearing an incredulous expression. What the hell could be running around outside his apartment? Are the neighbors having someone over?

He lets his earbuds fall loose onto his shirt, then gives the empty room a closer listen. The whirr of a fan, the creak of his chair, and four more knocks.

There's no doubt that, dreadfully, someone is at his door. Focusing intently on the handle in the distance, he grumbles about the 'hours' he can't be certain of and simply hopes the knocking will pass- but it doesn't. It comes back with persistance, louder than before.

"Ughh..." He protests, standing from his chair and practically shambling across the mountainous terrain of hoarded garbage to get to the door. Cans crush underfoot, and he's nearly snared on a loose sweater, but he makes it to the tiny apartment's entryway.

Already put in a less-than-positive mood, the irritable man twists the doorhandle and swings it open, potently blinding himself with daylight. A feminine figure, sillouhetted by the sheer power of the sun, slowly comes into focus through squinted eyes and a four-fingered visor.

The silhouette lifts her hand, her dainty fingers making a swift strike right in greeting. "Hi there, sleepy-head!" She says in a gleeful, peppy pitch slightly distorted by mechanical undertones.

His eyes rebalance the morning's bright palette. There, a short and slender girl stands right outside his door. Her light brown skin has an unnatural, matte smoothness to it, and the seams on her exposed joints and and shoulders reflect a bright gold. The left forearm bears a small pink label featuring a QR code, barcode, and a set of numbers stacked atop one another.

An android? It was no surprise, there had been several for decades. All the wealthy had a caste of them, and even the middle-class got to enjoy atleast one.

Her synthetic, wavy, platinum-blonde hair is perfectly styled into sharp bangs and long flows along her back, the ends decorated with two inches of cyan-purple blend that contrasts surprisingly well to both her dark skin and the magenta make-up on her soft, rubbery lips and eyelids, which house the most incredibly verdant green eyes.

She curls her fingers into her palm, revealing her neatly painted nails. "Eheh, hellooo~? You in there, sleepy-head?" She asks, her voice now noticably warped by robotic tones.

The man in the dark room shakes free of her bewitching appearance and clears his throat, preparing for a tough encounter- a social one. "Yeah, I just woke up. I don't have any money, so if you're trying to sell me something, sorry..."

"Oh no no, transaction is already taken care of! I'm here to introduce myself!" She replies with jubilance, "I'm your very own highly-calibrated, super-colorful..." She pauses for effect, bringing her hands close to her chest then throwing them up and out in cartoonish cheer. Upon the parting of her lips, the two circles on her shoulders detatch like a mentos lid to reveal an immaculate golden interior, which releases a torrent of multicolored paper and the sound of a party-blower; "JOYCORP PATI-GYARU 95!"

The strips of paper wither in the air and crash into the ground, being reduced from a colorful display dancing in the sunlight to a sheet of litter on the ground that someone would have to clean up eventually.

All the bewildered NEET can muster is a confused, "What?"

She obliviously stands in the mess she's created, holding her pose for a moment longer before embarrassedly adjusting her hair back behind her gold-plated, antennae-esque ear. Her cheeks glow like the inside of a toaster as she rolls her eyes away from his shaming gaze. "Eheh, uhm, Pati-Gyaru 95?.. I'm a specialty android companion designed to reduce depression and provide comfort. Your family purchased me to oversee you, given your extended lack of communication and unemployment."

The man lowers his hand from his brow, squinting the sun away. His face tells of disgust and tired pain, finding little amusement in the woman's display. "You're a robot, someone in my family bought, to reduce my 'depression'?" He repeats, drawing it out to borderline mock the girl.

She nods, lacing her fingers together and acrobatically sloping her body to the side with a whirr of muffled hydraulics, her chest bouncing playfully from the swift motion. "Mhmm! Not just any robot, though." She begins sifting through a gaudy schoolbag at her side while continuing her spiel. "Like I just said, I'm a specialty android. I come fully equipped with an eco-ficient platinum grade battery and gold-foiled hydraulics set. That means I only have a loss rate of about 2%!"

Her hand returns from the bag holding an overdesigned pamphlet covered in bright but simplistic shapes with poppy, striped backgrounds and bubbly white letters. "I have an I27 petra-core processor from intracorp, giving me an adaptive and real personality that's passed the turing test with a rating of 993 out of a thousand!" She bends forward with another busty bounce and a bright smile to offer it to him. "You can read all about it in this pamphlet!"

"...Right." He grumbles without so much as a humored smile. "That's impressive and all, but I'm not interested. I've got everything handled here." He shies away from the extended paper and shields himself with his door, trying to forcefully end the conversation by closing it.

The android springs forward with wide-eyed surprise, stopping the door with her knee. "Wait! I come with stickers!" She insists.

"Stickers?" The man, taken aback by the odd offer, loosens his grip on the door.

The robot flips to the last three pages in the pamphlet with lightning speed and peels off a blue star from a wax sheet. She sticks the borderless shape just beneath her cheek, then pulls down the rubber of her eyelid and sticks out her hex-patterned tongue. "Nyehhh, see? Isn't that so cute~? I'm completely modular! You can dye my hair, cut it, extend it, get new outfits from the catalogue- and the stickers are re-usable!" She smiles hopefully, waving the pamphlet at him again.

His cheeks sink with the rest of his jaw, his brows strained with disbelief and confusion. "You're trying to entice me... With stickers?"

The android blinks with a muffled whirr, her lips pursing as she flusters. "Everybody loves stickers, right? They're so fun! Come on, don't you atleast want to put some stickers on me? I'm not asking for an arm and a leg here!"

The tired man rubs his eyes over a groan. He clears his throat, steels his core, and pushes the pamphlet back. "I'm not interested. Stickers are a kid's thing. You can tell whoever bought you for me that I don't answer because I'm busy and I don't need any more surprise interventions." He finished by brushing her away with a motion of his hand, turning to move back inside and bolt the door.

"Ah-" The determined android grips the edge of the door and forces it open with unsightly ease, her surprising strength putting her smile terribly out of place. "I'm sorry, I'm afriad I can't let you do that." She says flatly. "The caring family member who assigned me to you has left me in charge of your assets. My processor is powerful enough to serve personal assistant functions on the side. I'm not just a lovable companion, I'm a skilled secretary too~." She sticks up a finger and extends her tongue. Just like that the playfulness is back.

A chill trickles down his spine as he's metaphorically floored. The words repeat themselves over and over, "I-in charge of my assets?" He asks, grimacing and taking a single step back to catch his balance.

"Mhmm!" The machinated girl tears the door from his grip, opening it to the hinge's limit. "Your caring family member has adjusted the allowances you've been receiving to me. I'm properly programmed to handle the distribution of your funds between necessities and pleasantries! You can leave it all to me while we work on your depression!"

The sunlight, unburdened by the door, now caresses the silent, screaming face of the hikikimori. "Wait-wait-wait!" He cries, waving his hands about anxiously before pointing a finger at her, his stance defensive. "Y-you have all my money, all of it? Including the rent!?"

The android nods, relaxing her smile if only to briefly empathize. Then, she laces her fingers together and puts her hands over the front of her ridiculously short skirt. "There's no need to worry! I'll have it all under control, so why don't we just get to know eachother?" She asks with intent sweetness.

A storm of nerves hurls about within the man's stomach, as he's not exactly presented with a choice but an ultimatum.

Inside his apartment, the man turns on his lights for the metallic maiden and assists her through the hell of laundry and wrappers. It's clear from her worried glances and stiff expression that she's uncomfortable with the disaster. Once arriving back at the center, he abandons her to take a rest on a lone mattress pressed against the corner of the room.

"Ah.. Well the first suggestion I have is cleaning your apartment! There is what I assume to be trash everywhere and your clothes are in desperate need of a wash."

He huffs at the robot, pulling up a pillow behind his head. "Why am I not surprised? I'll get to it later."

In return, she crosses her arms and gives him a skeptical stare. "Oh, I'm sure. How about you just pick up the trash, then? Surely you don't need to keep it laying around the floor like this. You could recycle these cans- and the wrappers too, thus disposing of them properly an-."

"Alright, have fun with that I guess." He cuts her off, still staring at the ceiling with passive-aggressive wrath.

Her teaching finger lowers, producing a descending whirr to ambiance her defeated expression. "Oookay." She turns to a shelf on the wall, decorated with row after row of expensive-looking figurines propping up the occasional trinket or collection of mangas and DVDs. The collection of the stereotypical shut-in. With a playful smirk on her face, she runs her finger down one of the little plastic models. "It's sort of funny how you'd call my stickers childish when you own so many dolls~."

This surely got his attention. The hikikimora immediately sits up onto his hands and shoots her a knowing glare. "They're not dolls, they're collectible figurines and poseable models! They're 3-dimensional renderings of characters from my favorite series and have a high market value!"

"Do you make them kiss, like in this?" She waves one of the yuri magazines from his shelf at him, flaunting the cover and barely holding back her smug smile.

His face goes red, and he immediately stammers to defend himself; "Wha- Ah! Who the hell gave you permission to go through all my stuff!? Aren't you supposed to be a helpful android?"

After replacing the magazine where she had found it, the 'helpful android' retorts while further searching through his stuff. "I'm simply trying to get to know you through your interests, since you're going to be so resistant. Also, I'm very helpful, but we haven't even begun the start-up protocol! A lot of my settings were skipped or defaulted for delivery. You see, I'm designed to go through a specific set of stages- including owner registration, naming, catalog introduction, and a review of my program-slash-purpose."

He cocks a brow, his jaw slightly unhinged. "Owner registration? What are you going on about? I thought you were already paid for."

She nods, still keeping her smile on. "I am, but when you meet new people you want to become friends with, you have to exchange names!"

"I know that, don't patronize me just ask me for my name then! Jeeze, it's.. Aoshi." His hesitation is slight, but further noticable by the streaks of red lining his face. He settles back into his pillow from the weight of the heat.

"Aoshi, a very strong name! It's nice to meet you. If you're embarassed by formality, I can address you by a title." She mentions, starting across the next row of DVDs with her dainty, jointed finger.

"N-no, that's fine. So am I registered or what?" He tightens his expression, chewing on the inside of his lip with an incisor.

"Mhmm! Now, the next step in the process is to pick a name for me! I am supposed to be your personalized PG-95 after all." She squats slightly, taking another book from the lower shelf to inspect.

Inspired by times of old, Aoshi cracks a grin and works up his confidence through a feigned hum of thought. "How about, asshole?"

She keeps a consistent, calm and unbothered expression. "I'm sorry, Aoshi, but I believe that word is prevented as a name by my word filter."

"Of course." After his disappointing attempt, he spends some time genuinely trying to produce a name of worth. Soon, the gears in his head finish spinning and his expression comes alight with an idea. "How about Miami?"

"Miami is an acceptable name." She chimes, musing it over a couple times under her breath. Her lips motion the words; 'I am Miami', with the corners curling into a smile not long after. She repeats it, louder and with more flutter. "Miami... It's a beautiful name."

"Alright, Miami it is then. So, Miami, what is this program-purpose thing you were going on about?" Aoshi settles his hands in his lap, looking over his new forceful companion as she flips through one of his books. The border, colorful and surrounded by hearts, causes his mind to stir and his eyes to squint.

Miami flips the page, her eyes widening at the salacious display on the pages. "Oh- My program is designed to get you back to being a functional member of society, of course! We start with independence in the home, then we work on some passionate interests or therapy as needed to improve your attitude, and finally we get you a job! Now, it's a lot easier said than done, so you'll need to work hard, but I promise that it's worth it!" Quickly, she returns to her in-depth reading of the book, each new page widening her smirk.

"Great." Aoshi mumbles under his breath, her expression drawing his attention back to the book. The scandalous, bare leg in full color is uncovered by the androids fingers and the content is recalled.

They lock eyes, his face riddled with worry while hers just barely holding back a radiant, knowing smile.

Miami closes the book, holding up the sexually charged pin-up cover of a doujinshi having quite a lot to do with android girls, ironically. "So, Aoshi, is 'Android Affairs' relative to your interests~?" She teases, dancing the book back and forth.

"H-hey! Put that down, I told you not to go through my stuff!" Aoshi demands, scrambling off the bed and hastily trying to get the book from her.

However, his hand is instantly snared by her much quicker movement. She wraps her fingers gently around his wrist and holds the book away from him. A forceful buzzing fills the air, stilling the moment with a distraction.

Aoshi's gaze heeds the call of his ears, and he turns his gaze down. The very edge of Miami's skirt and inner thighs quiver with intense speed. "Uh.. What's that?" He blushes, aware of the answer but taking the bait nonetheless.

Only a moment after holding her smug smile, the buzzing halts and she settles the lewd chapter back on the shelf. "Oh~, that was just the vibrating motor in my genitalia." She nonchalantly looks back to his collection and releases his hand, swaying her hips back and forth by barely an inch to draw his attention.

"Really?" He asks, taking a steep breath. "And uh.. What's that for?"

Miami humms, glancing over her shoulder. "Well, it's just a standard feature of my companionship protocol."

"Oh." He nods his head, pushing his hands into his hoodie's pockets and twisting his lips. "So uh... How does that, work?" He swallows during his pause, his eyes wandering to her legs.

She shrugs, turning to face him. "My catalogue has quite a bit of information, but if you wanted to just try it out... Maybe you could pick up the trash?" Miami pleads with him utilizing a pouty, hopeful face and a flaunt of her skirt, lifted by a single finger and thumb. "I might let you use it, if that would inspire you."

Within seconds, Aoshi was stuffing refuse in his pocket. (To be continued)