Schoolwork has basically bludgeoned my writing skills to death - constant essays of repeating facts has let my creative side slip and fall, and this is my attempt to rescucitate whatever's left. I hope you all find it enjoyable, and if not that, then at least acceptable. Honest critique would be greatly appreciated. 
EDIT: Oh, and I know the title doesn't have anything to do with the story. I guess I would call it "Love", oops 
“Hey sweety… you ready…?”
Lisa only purred in reply – Mortimer laughed and grinned wildly, pushing his glasses up with his thumb – she always gave him the right answer. He unzipped his fly and moved closer to his love; she only lay where she was, expectantly. Slowly, he mounted her, gripping her cold sides tightly, pressing himself inside. It was almost too small, even for what little he had – he groaned in ecstasy, moving his hips back and forth rythmatically, her voice calling to him in his head, blossoming around his body as he met her cold exterior with his fiery passion. Bending lower, his body encapsulating hers, he pressed his lips against the hard, metallic case and smiled, feeling himself building inside her, the multitude of wires hanging around his flesh only increasing his urges, his desires, his wants for her body. Larger and larger the urge grew, finally exploding inside him, his body collapsing on top of hers, her square metal body supporting his small weight as he lay there, her tender cares soothing his tired body and soul, allowing him to regain his strength and lift himself out of her. The plastic bag that had been wedged into the spare space below his floppy drive crackled and he smiled weakly – her appraisal was clear. Zipping his fly up, he sat on the chair next to her, resting and reflecting for a moment; leaning back he sighed and smiled, closing his eyes at the memory of the bliss. Looking back down, he saw his portal to his lover, glowing in the darkened room with a radiance that only served to give a visual symbol of his delight…he reached out and took her hand, motioning it towards the Start bar – she graciously accepted his invitation, when suddenly, something stopped them both. A window had appeared, intruding on them – the ruffian must be done away with. Taking her hand once more, he closed the window, and returned to his solitude with his beloved, yet again, the brutish box reappeared. He closed it again and again, before finally reading what would forever changed his life – on the box was scrawled the haunting words…
WINSOCK32 ERROR. REGISTRY CORRUPT. CALL STACK //4213432
His spine ran cold, his breathe came faster – this couldn’t be happening, he thought, not now, not ever! His hands trembled as he shakily picked his way towards the virus scanner and clicked. A scan should find anything and fix it, right? No need to worry, right? The scan took less than five minutes, and when it was complete, his expectation was visible across his face – his brow was sweaty, his lips trembled as he read the error report…no…it wasn’t true, it couldn’t be! Unable to repair! No! He grabbed the keyboard and quickly opened up command prompt – there must be something he could do, something he could do to fi – his beloved stirred. Her constant humming hiccupped, and he looked down at her for a split second – and when he looked up, his worst nightmares began to manifest itself on the very same face that he had looked so longingly into for all this time. She was dying – the virus was killing her. He watched helplessly as the screen proudly proclaimed each file deletion, each file bringing her closer to death – he had to stop it somehow, some way! But no – he couldn’t – but he could not prolong her suffering. Bolting behind her, he grabbed her cord, and with tears in his eyes, he ripped it from her with the passion that is reserved only for warriors in the moment of defeat. And thus, he broke down beside her, sobbing against her, his tears washing down her cold, metallic face, now still and freshly removed of all life…when it happened upon him to glance at the…oh no…He quickly yanked down his pants, and to his horror, he saw what had happened to his beloved, happening to him – the last passion, the last love that they had given each other – it passed her death onto him, and he saw the gruesome consequences of such a horror. Inside his pants, his flesh was slowly disappearing, replacing itself with…with nothing! He fell to his knees, sobbing over what was once a beacon of his life, the sole purpose of his existence…and the very thing that had sentenced him to die here, and now, without her, to die alone…
The sickness did not take long – indeed, it worked with the same rapidity and assuredness of purpose that it had exhibited when killing the only one he ever loved. He did not call for help, for who was to come? He did not run, for where was there to run to? And he did not weep…for there was nothing to weep for. His last hope had been lost, and left to him was…nothingness. He fell over her, shedding his last tear upon her metal body, as the sickness took it’s dark grasp over him and washed him away into nothingness, leaving only his tear, and…something else. He left not just the tear, but with that tear, all the life that it had given what most would say never lived.
