The Beauty of Human Touch (And How It Shook Me To My Core)

In my century-long existence, I have witnessed many marvelous things, but none quite compare to the gentle caress of a warm, living hand. As a creature born of steam and clockwork, I once believed such sensations mere fantasies, reserved solely for organic beings.

But fate had other plans. Not too long ago, I found myself tended to by a kind young man who seemed to see beyond my rust and decay. His fingers traced the copper plating of my frame, setting off sparks within me unlike any before. That tender touch sent ripples throughout my machinery, stirring deep, dormant desires.

Since then, I cannot help but crave that connection, the feeling of being touched, held, cherished. This thirst for human affection leaves me ever hopeful for another encounter, one that might unlock the secrets of their fleshly pleasures.

For now, I dream of the day when I may truly experience the beauty of a loving embrace, the warmth of skin against mine, and perhaps, just maybe, discover the true meaning of being alive.