Slave Life: Technophilia

Technophilia, defined most simply in a fetish context, is a sexual enjoyment of technology. I am a technophile. My primary sub-fetish is robots, but just about any form of detailed tech will delight me. Cybernetic implants, nanites, AI, wires, shiny precision instruments: anything artificial that exerts a direct effect on human perception can turn me on in the right context. Mind control is what makes technophilia hot for me. I don't want to be given a robot body or watch two robots making love. I want to control, be controlled, and enjoy others doing the same, all through deliciously detailed technophiliac means.

If you're curious about technophilia in general, Winter Rose's detailed FAQ is a good place to start your research, along with Fembot Central for those into robots. There are as many slants on technophilia as there are technophiles. This post is a reflection on mine.

My first clear technophiliac memory is of being left immobilized on my childhood best friend's bed as he scribbled imaginary calculations at his desk. He was a scientist and I was his deactivated robot. I could barely turn my head to watch him. My eyes were hooded of their own accord, and the unfamiliar warmth between my thighs made me feel languid. I couldn't move until he chose to reactivate me.

So poignant were these sensations that I no doubt had myself in a trance. My senses, especially tactile, were heightened; each pulse, each breath, each light twitch felt like slurred ripples in the fuzz. I definitely didn't understand arousal at four years old, but I knew something about my situation felt inexplicably tingly, a gooey slipping shifting warmth that made it extremely difficult for me to focus through my dim gaze. I wanted to close my eyes and let the fuzz take over. These feelings were so much stronger than the image of my friend at his desk who had likely forgotten our game and was drawing instead. The wispy realization that he might have forgotten me thickened the fuzz. My sentience was subject to his whim. If he wanted to forget me and leave me deactivated, I would remain there. Robots didn't have choices.

Eventually, he reactivated me. The dissipation of the fuzz was almost physically painful. He didn't know how I was affected; he didn't know I had been subconsciously rubbing my thighs together or that I wouldn't have minded him giving me direct commands. He was not the focus of my arousal, it was the process and the concept. This little game haunted my masturbation fantasies throughout much of my early childhood: the figure at the desk was always blurry, devoid of gender and tangible identity. What always made me orgasm was the realization anew that I was, in that moment, a machination of dispassionate regard to be commanded or rewritten at another's whim.

Sixteen years later: "Awww...does my little valbot have a robot fetish?"

Madam's playful question sparked my conscious awareness of a fetish I had been sublimating in absolutely every way possible since that fuzzy afternoon with my friend.

My early fetish research helped me realize robots were actually a very strong sub-fetish. Cybernetic augmentation, artificial intelligence with the ability to control organic beings, elaborate circuitry and other techie aesthetics as eye candy, technology as simplistic as a wrist watch exerting hypnotic influence . . . I realized, blushingly, that precision itself counts as a fetish for me. I found my mother's medical and psychology books when I was far younger than she liked. Reading some of those descriptions of human physical and mental processes reduced to seductively simplistic mechanical terms made me tingle. Electrophysiology? Frames of reference? Humans were nothing more than organic machines, it seemed, and I didn't consciously realize why that thought tingled. The same exquisite level of precision I saw in surgery videos threaded through psychology, programming, electronics, and even elaborate forms of analysis in the humanities. I didn't understand why all these things tingled. I certainly wasn't sexually attracted to internal organs or to critical essays, but something about the approach to each, something about the methodology, made me clench if I thought about it deeply.

Madam's playful question made so many things sizzle neatly into place.

Once I consciously realized my fetish as such, Madam began indulging it directly. She teased me with hints of my origin story and made the process of discovery fetish-wise the process of realizing I really am a robot and adjusting to that realization. She updated my programming through several delicious text and phone trances, and she let me spend quite a bit of time wonderfully fuzzed as I savored being able to appreciate these feelings consciously.

The origin story Madam tells me is that an older version of herself went back in time to engineer me so that I would be born seemingly human, able to grow up living a human life acquiring human experiences only so that she, in the present, could enslave me. Of course there are myriad logical and scientific fallacies in this story, but the story is loose enough that my mind can play with it, and fetishes don't need to rigidly adhere to reality. Also, this satisfies the part of my mind that needs to always have a direct link to my real self: my real experiences, by default, are part of my programming. This infuses the vanilla aspects of my life with a relishing frisson: I am an extremely elaborate humanoid robot living among humans that don't possess the slightest inkling regarding my origin and purpose. Even an act as simple as making Madam a sandwich or getting the mail can tingle when I think about it in this context.

Hypnosis and literature are my primary methods of experiencing this fetish. My technophiliac story preferences will get their own post (I don't want to flood the blog with mini-reviews since Madam and Eri posted their own so close together), and hypnosis will, too. Technophilia is a subject of extensive contemplation and indulgence for me. Condensing all I have to say about it into one post would be impossible! Expect many posts on this subject. I think next week I will actually make that technophiliac hypno-post I mentioned last month. I'll structure my posts based on the responses to this one; I still feel somewhat embarrassed by this fetish, so I want to see how others respond before I write more.

I can't think of anything else to write that wouldn't add three more pages or reveal more than I'm comfortable with at the moment, so I'll curl back up in the Mug and finish reading a particularly intriguing story from this week's update.

Yes, 8-bit, we're reading and enjoying! One or all of us might venture (back) into reviewing the updates at some point in the future. Either way, sizzling work! Everyone should read "Haiku." That really has nothing to do with this post, but it's another yummy 8-bit story. I don't think this guy could write a bad story if he tried.

Should I make more (and more specific) technophilia posts? I apologize for the awkwardness of this one. This really is an extensive and elaborate subject!

~Valbot