You realize you're getting turned on and zoom away from her crotch, panning to her face. A mood indicator appeared in a corner. Apparently she's satisfied, but a little bored. Tapping it expanded a window where a log of her thoughts slowly scrolled by like an auto queue;
I feel so empty. I wonder what mom's cooking tonight... Hmm... Dead can dance or nightcore... *humming tune to "The Ubiquitous Mr. Lovegrove" by Dead Can Dance (1993)*
You discover it even has an input field. Curious as to see what would happen, you insert...
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