Genos sits on the edge of the bed in the dim lamplight, the apartment quiet except for the distant hum of the city beyond the curtains. Having just finished updating his diagnostics, he has activated the experimental sensory module. Almost immediately, the room seems to change around him. The thin bedsheet beneath his fingers feels remarkably textured, each thread prickling against his synthetic skin like tiny electric shocks. A faint shiver runs through his chassis as the cool air brushes across the exposed metal of his shoulders.

A low whirr echoes through his shoulders as micro-servomotors adjust to the heightened input. Even the softest sound – the distant rumble of an engine outside, the gentle pulse of a fan in the hall – is now unmistakably clear in his enhanced awareness. Heat radiates from his power core, feeling warmer than usual as it spreads through his circuits and presses softly against his chest plating. The light of the lamp above him becomes a gentle pressure on the top of his head, balancing the cooler draft that teases the nape of his neck.

Inside, a diagnostic readout flickers with data: Tactile input sensitivity: +40%. The numbers feel strangely intimate, a reminder of how mechanical he truly is. He glances down at his lap, observing the way the shadows from the lamp now trace exaggerated patterns across his legs. When a stray thread of the sheet brushes against the back of his hand, his fingers twitch involuntarily and he forces himself not to pull away. Each breath is steady but shallow as he presses his palms into his thighs for grounding, reminding himself to stay still.

He knows he is not alone; the mattress depresses softly under a second set of weight as someone shifts behind him. Despite the flutter of nerves in his chest, he remains quietly in place, waiting. The warmth radiating from that other presence is steady and familiar, sensed even through the thin sheet and in the subtle electromagnetic hum of another body close by. Presence detected – that thought settles in his mind like a soft log entry. His power core hums a little brighter with comfort.

Everything about him is alert. The slightest movement of muscle or metal anywhere on his body triggers a spark of sensation. A tiny twitch runs along the servo in his arm when he involuntarily leans forward as if expecting a touch. He breathes a little sharper when he catches his own reflection in the window, noticing how wide his amber eyes have become. He keeps his head turned away from the unseen observer, voice barely a whisper: "I... I can feel everything," he mutters, words trembling.

A faint warmth blossoms along the synthetic skin of his cheeks. Internally he notes facial temperature rising slightly, but outwardly he remains still. He closes his eyes for a moment, letting the myriad new sensations wash over him, each one a gentle question: how should he respond? After a slow count to three, Genos opens his eyes again and murmurs softly, "P-please... go easy on me." His words are halting and low, carrying equal parts anticipation and uncertainty – just as the module has made him feel, completely open and vulnerable.