The Good Samaritan (Life in Stepford fanfic)

[Gorgo]

THE GOOD SAMARITAN
By Gorgo

Based on characters and situations created by Uncom

****

“Welcome to Club 69…David?! What happened?!”

Perking on hearing that shocked question from the scantily clad, blue-haired waiter who had been standing by at the entrance to the small coffee house/bar located in Stepford’s southern ward, the middle-aged man on the motorized wheelchair visibly winced. “Well, I was making my way down here to spend the evening with my friends when I chanced upon this lovely lady here having collapsed in an alley not far from the security gate,” he confessed, waving to the still feminine form now in his lap and leaning against him. “Girls at the gate don’t have any spare recharge ports…”

Drew nodded, a genuine smile crossing his face. “So, you came to get help from us. Here, bring her over to the back corner; we’re not busy tonight.” At that moment, his dark eyes glowed a deep crimson.

Nodding in delight that the beautiful android waiter – one of six assigned to Club 69, along with one android acting as bartender – was contacting his supervisor about the issue, David guided his machine inside the main room. Sure enough, there were few people in the establishment at this time, some of whom were quick to gaze his way, welcoming smiles crossing their faces before they noticed his current “companion”. Immediately, one woman appearing to be in her mid-twenties rose from her table, walking over. “Where did you find her, David?” she asked.

“In Franklin’s Alley about two blocks from the gate,” he explained as he guided his chair over to a private booth at one corner of the room. He then waited for Drew and Denise – the latter was one of the gynoid hosts of the show Life in Stepford that better explained how things in a city with an over 80% AI population operated – to lift the poor girl off his lap before sliding his machine over to slip off the chair onto the bench. “Her barcode…” – here, David pointed to the back of his neck – “…didn’t show up in the system, so I assume she’s some sort of prototype model…”

Denise immediately scanned the other gynoid’s neck, brushing aside locks of very luscious silver-blonde hair to see what was there. “She’s a stealth Citadel unit,” the brown-haired, bespectacled presenter – of course, as a gynoid herself, Denise didn’t need glasses to correct defective eyesight – then declared. “I’ll have to access the master database to see who she was assigned to so we could determine what happened to her.” With that, she pressed her index finger into the still girl’s head, her pale blue eyes glowing for a moment. “Wow! Her batteries are nearly totally drained…”

“Have a charge cable here, Denise.”

That was Ashley, the bartender and effective “den mother” of all the AIs assigned to Club 69. Built to be as realistically effeminate as possible, he was dressed as were the others working here in a string black jockstrap that barely held back a welcoming manhood for whoever took him to bed; he had short-cropped brown hair and blue eyes, a garrison cap-like hat perched on his forehead with the bar’s logo over the left eye. As he handed a twenty-foot rolled-up thick charging cable to Denise – she immediately kneeling under the table to get at the stilled gynoid anal cavity to insert same – Ashley stared at David. “You look tired bringing our friend over here to have a date, Dave. You sure you can make it home?”

David reached over to grasp the bartender’s hand, giving that a reassuring squeeze. “Let me worry about that when this lovely lady is back on her feet, and we get the story out from here. Can I have my usual, please?”

“Of course…”

****

David always liked the AIs who lived in Stepford.

A retired customer service representative who had to go on government disability due to various health issues, he had always been fascinated by the concept of androids and gynoids. Of course, being on disability limited any option towards buying one such unit for his own use; even second-hand, a Dyson Stepford AI still ran into the many thousands of dollars and his current place of residence – a community housing project run by the county government that once had Stepford itself as one of its communities until Dyson Industries changed things over the span of a decade – didn’t allow such units even if they could visit. Since Club 69 was the closest establishment to the boundaries of the effectively-independent city-state, he soon became a frequent patron of said coffee house/bar, making friends with all the staff.

Of course, David’s way of making “friends” with a septet of very sexy androids looking to be as if they should be in college was quite unique…

…especially when he discovered that the people who organized this place didn’t bother to give all seven boys a simple thing like NAMES so they could be seen as more “human” by customers!

Fortunately, he was quick to correct that issue, much less get Ashley and his brothers to accept said proposals.

Doing a simple thing like that soon earned the retired customer service representative the interest of MANY AIs in the city.

Over the previous half-year he frequented this establishment, he had met a wide gamut of both androids and gynoids, not to mention the various organics who were their effective masters/mistresses. From all-AI families such as the Does (“father” John, “mother” Jane and “grandmother” Joyce all working for various departments in the city government, while “son” Jonas and “daughter” Janette attended Stepford College) to the “wives” and “daughters” of those who invested heavily in every industry supporting the city-state and all that worked into it, to those units (Denise being one) who were programmed to present as much a feeling of “normalcy” as possible in this virtual technosexual’s paradise made real.

And speaking of which…

“Good evening, David,” a voice called out, making David turn as Grace – she was the gynoid in charge of the college’s cheerleading team – came over to join them. “Being the good Samaritan again, aren’t you…”

David blinked as Dale came up with a bottle and ice-filled glass of diet coke. Just as the azure-haired android moved to serve same, his body then froze up, an audible beep! then escaping him. “Warning. Battery power at 5%. Entering low power mode,” he then announced, his voice completely free of any natural human inflexion.

A moan escaped the man as Grace and Denise – the latter of which had just come over from plugging the recharge cable into a nearby outlet – politely covered their mouths to hide very amused smiles. “Not again…!” David said as he reached into the cargo pouch of his wheelchair to draw out a portable battery recharge unit. “I got it, Ash!” he then called over to the bar, earning him a nod from Ashley before he shifted around to insert the dildo-shaped tool into Dale’s rectum.

While Grace automatically grabbed the bottle and glass in case the waiter dropped same due to some fault in his motor functions, Dale’s eyes glowed red for a moment. “Alternative power source recognized,” he then announced in that same flat voice. “Continuing routine functions.” He then blinked before breathing out. “Oh, not again…”

“How many times has that happened to you, Dale?” David asked, grasping the waiter’s hand.

Sensing that contact made Dale instantly blush, his internal systems immediately conjuring up potential scenarios where he would get the man who had helped him several times when his battery went low – this wasn’t the first time the retired CSR had come to the waiter’s aid since David began frequenting Club 69 – and offering himself sexually to him. He knew David was bisexual; the man had lived alone for a long time and could be described as “incel” though no one who knew the man personally would ever use such a charged term with him. He was clearly a technosexual though with moderate tastes, far more comfortable with AIs than with real people; because of that, many residents of Stepford – he and his brothers here at Club 69 being seven of them – had begun to postulate on ways on getting the man either hired on by the city government or by Dyson Industries itself as a sort of roving troubleshooter when it came to AIs needing organic assistance whenever malfunctions occurred and other AIs weren’t nearby to help. Just like he did tonight.

“Eight times,” he answered as he sat in David’s wheelchair, reaching over to grasp the organic man’s hand with both his own. While he could easily allow the man to fondle him without any objection by Ashley, Dale knew also that David was a stickler for following the rules in Club 69 when it came to intercourse with customers; such actions were to be paid, even by favoured customers. Hugs and kisses were always free, but nothing beyond that. “It’s probably a hardware issue, but I don’t have the programming necessary to do a deep dive on my batteries’ performance levels…”

“I’ve got that program,” Grace then declared. “Would you mind?”

Relief crossed the waiter’s face. “Would you, Coach?” he asked in turn, pulling his hair away from his ear in emphasis.

Smiling, the chestnut-haired gynoid – like Denise, Grace wore glasses for decorative purposes – pressed a finger into the cavity to allow her systems to link with her host’s and learn what was going on. As both AIs’ eyes glowed, David gently patted Dale’s hand to show his concern for his friend; he knew that even when they were in maintenance mode, any Dyson android or gynoid would be able to sense any physical contact and be able to reflect on same when s/he went back to normal operation. Given that every AI in Stepford and elsewhere built by Dyson were constructed on the same intimate companion unit chassis – David was a little shy towards calling them “sexbots” since the term contained the word “robot” within it; inferring THAT was an insult to someone like Grace, Denise or the boys here at Club 69 – any show of physical closeness was something that even the most stern Citadel guardian unit would positively react to.

David always felt that it was simply common sense to give such AIs as many positive physical experiences as possible.

****

“Well, I’ve got some bad news for you, Dale. Your battery is clearly showing critical signs of wearing down.”

Dale moaned as he sat back in the wheelchair he had “borrowed” from the man who had named him. “Oh, great. Did you hear that, Ash?” the waiter called out towards the bar, making heads look over.

“Yes, I did. You’re off duty as of now,” the bartender declared as he came over to join them, accompanied by a pretty android with short-cropped raven hair and blue eyes, looking to be like the typical tomboy even if his current mode of dress indicated he was all man physically. As Dale’s eyes flashed to acknowledge the site supervisor’s declaration – such would free up certain blocks in his social programming that, were he not having hardware issues with a vital system, would allow him to express his feelings towards David quite passionately – Ashley patted his shoulder in reassurance. “I’ll have Glenn finish the rest of your shift here. Coach, you were going to have Dasha and Tamara go see Mr. McLeod at his home workshop concerning their leg motors, right?” At Grace’s nod, Ashley indicated Dale. “Cheyenne made sure that there’s enough spare time in that appointment so Dale can slip in for a full battery replacement if needed.”

“Fair enough,” the cheerleading team coach affirmed with a nod. “I better get back to the college and make sure the girls are shut down for the evening. I’ll be here with the girls to pick up Dale tomorrow at eleven o’clock.”

“Thank you,” Ashley affirmed with a smile.

Both AIs then came together in a warm hug, enjoying a very passionate kiss for a moment before Grace broke away, winking at David before purring into the bartender’s ear, “I’ll have the other girls come visit you on your day off.”

Ashley chuckled. “We’re always available to help any brother or sister AI when they need their functions checked.”

Laughter escaped the others save the still-recharging gynoid that David had rescued earlier that evening. Dale then was helped to his feet by Glenn before the emergency charger in his buttocks was exchanged for one that Ashley always had available when needed. After sharing a hug and kiss good night with David, Dale was off, heading to the stairs leading to the basement level where the recharge stations for all the Club 69 units was kept; such also had a small repair lab with diagnostic bed whenever a field technician was called in from Dyson to give the seven androids working here a detailed examination to ensure no serious malfunction would cause a major incident that hurt people. As Glenn took a seat in the wheelchair while reaching over to grasp David’s hand – of all the androids working here, the brunette always did her best to be as physically intimate with the retired CSR as possible – Denise placed her finger into the still gynoid’s ear to see if she could register anything within the poor girl’s mind. “So, what’s the verdict, Counsellor?” David asked.

Denise gave him an amused smirk; outside her duties as a presenter on Stepford TV, she was part of the mixed organic/AI group of advisors to the city government on social issues. “Well, her batteries – both her primary and auxiliary units – were drained almost to nothing when you found her, David,” she explained. “Have her name now; she’s Daisy Mae. One of the ‘Angel’ Citadel units; they’re meant to be stealth bodyguards for major investors in Dyson. And…” She then blinked before she pulled her finger away, a look of shocked horror then crossing her face. “Oh, no…!”

David breathed out as Glenn tensed. “Something happened to her charge, right?”

A shaky nod answered. Even if any Dyson AI had a special set of housekeeping wetware that allowed them to impose some pretty harsh clamps on their programmed emotional responses, interacting with people like David always seemed to make it okay to express one’s emotions in a natural way. “He died of a heart attack earlier this evening,” she flatly announced. “She was out shopping for him when the event occurred. She discovered his body, then contacted authorities to have medical aid come assist. Then…” – she then shook her head – “…something happened with the building’s power dynamo; it exploded and caused a massive fire. Daisy Mae helped rescue all the first responders, gave her statement…and then a programmed response in situations like that kicked in to have her return to Stepford.”

“Conspiracy theorists would go to town on that one,” David mused. “How’s her charge now?”

“Primary charge 6%, secondary charge 17%,” Denise answered. “She won’t regain any sort of functionality until she’s at 20% primary charge and at least 80% secondary charge. Like the other Citadel units…”

“She consumes a lot of energy doing things,” he finished for her. “Well, she’s going nowhere fast.”

“Er…neither are you, Dave.”

Both gazed on Glenn, who was looking at the control pad for David’s wheelchair. “Right now, you’re only at 35% charge. And this is an old wheelchair you got here. Are you sure you’re going to be able to make it home tonight?”

David blinked. “Yeah…”

To Be Continued...

****

For those of you who are fan of Uncom's recent HoneySelect 2 comic series, the primary inspiration for this comes from here: Cafe 69 - Femboybots. The names I give the androids depicted here are as follows:

Bartender: Ashley
1st Waiter (panel 2): Riley
2nd Waiter (panel 3): Drew
3rd Waiter (panel 11, left): Hollis
4th Waiter (panel 11, centre): Kendall
5th Waiter (panel 11, right): Morgan
6th Waiter (panel 12): Glenn

Denise hails from this story: Life in Stepford - Interview

Coach Grace (and her two charges Dasha and Tamara) come from here: Life in Stepford: Stepford College - Cheerleaders

Cheyenne appears here: Life in Stepford - Documentary Excerpt

And the Doe family appears here: Life in Stepford - Perfect Family

More to come...

[Gorgo]

“And there she stands…”

David chuckled as he watched Denise and Glenn move to straighten the body of the still-undercharged Daisy Mae, her feet now held in place by a magnetic charging pad, a solid rod now inserted into her anus to allow a more capable static charging system to reflood her on-board batteries with energy. Taking a moment to drink in the beautiful guardian’s wholesome all-American looks – she was dressed in a T-shirt and button jeans designed with a special hatch in the buttocks to allow her to be discretely charged in a public setting – the retired CSR nodded. “Whoever designed this one’s looks better have got a good bonus in their paychecks,” he mused, reaching over to squeeze Daisy Mae’s hand.

Both Denise and Glenn giggled on hearing him say that. No matter how an AI looked in Stepford, he was always willing to compliment one’s looks even if they wouldn’t come close to passing any sort of beauty standards in the outside world. “You get started, Denise,” the waiter then bade the presenter. “I have to secure the whole building down.”

“Go ahead.”

He then walked out of the room as she offered her hand to David, the latter grasping same as he guided his chair over to the nice bed set aside for any visiting technician who needed to overnight here. After shifting himself onto the mattress, David then guided Denise to sit beside him, he then reaching up to slip her glasses off. Immediately, she leaned against him, allowing him to wrap an arm around her. “And tonight, I get to be a proper Stepford wife,” she admitted.

He touched her chin, tilting her head over so they could kiss. “I still can’t believe all the people moving to live here passed a beautiful woman like you over,” David noted as he reached up to the top button of her button shirt to undo same. As Denise preened at that compliment – even if all Stepford AIs were programmed to never express any sort of jealousy when it came to organics choosing one of their number over another – he tenderly kissed her forehead, allowing his fingers to swirl over her expose skin to entice her epidermal sensors to increase their sensitivity. “Do you get any sex at all?”

“Only with my coworkers when the techs test our systems,” she deeply breathed in, internal programs already triggering to allow all her sexual programming to properly initialize. As he undid the next button down to expose the top of her considerable cleavage – she had been built with D-cup breasts, which was somewhat standard for gynoids who dealt with any sort of major public relations – her hands started to rub against his crotch to get him excited; given his age and a considerable dearth of potential lovers until he began frequenting Club 69, his own organs needed extra prep time (as she saw it) to perform their own functions to his satisfaction. “And much that I love making out with my coworkers…”

“You’re built to make someone’s home life much better, just like all the other AIs in this town.”

“Yes…!” she hissed out as David leaned into kiss the side of her neck.

That specific situation had always worried the retired CSR as he came to learn about life in this city. With the average ratio of five AIs per one organic, Stepford could easily be converted into the world’s largest brothel had Richard and Dolores Dyson gone that route when it came to turning a sleepy bedroom town into the most advanced technology hub on Earth. And while it was smart to ensure all the AIs had the option to be “sexbots” when required – David was more than sure that even the sleeping Daisy Mae nearby had sex with her late companion whenever that itch needed to be scratched – the fact that only about one-fifth of the total AI population had confirmed organic companions could potentially cause issues. It wasn’t something that had been depicted in science fiction films like The Terminator in the past; Dyson Industries and its competitors worldwide were just too smart for that. But people like Denise had needs as well, damn it…!

Lowering his companion to lay back on the bed, David shifted himself around to complete unbuttoning her shirt, exposing a well-toned body and her lovely mounds protected by a lace bra that barely hid a pair of inviting nipples. As Denise moved to unbutton her slacks to expose she was wearing a matching pair of panties, he started trailing down kisses over her breastbone, taking care not to put too much pressure on the place where her upper circuit hatch could be opened; David had never done anything to damage any of his AI friends when things got THIS intimate and he wasn’t going to start now. “Mm…” he breathed in the lovely and very realistic smell of her body. “Trialling a new perfume…?”

“Something Demi was given by her husband; she shared it with all of us,” she explained, trying not to croon as the sensation of his tongue on her skin sent jolts of effective warm fire into her pleasure centres.

“Oh, that slender black girl that started work with the evening news team, right?” he wondered as he moved to pull her pants and panties clear of a very inviting womanhood and nice, slender legs for days.

She purred as she popped open her bra, exposing a pair of very pert nipples ready to be sucked. “Oh, yes! Her husband’s a meteorologist with the Weather Channel in Hartford! Handsome guy, but he wasn’t attracted to me…!”

“Oh! Why not?” he asked as he lifted her by the hips to allow her to drape her legs over his shoulders, bringing her crotch close to his own lips. “Even if she’s slenderer than you, I’d rate you both equal in the looks department.”

“I wasn’t built as a transgender,” she flatly declared.

He gave her a look before shaking his head. “Well, his loss is my gain!”

And with that, David buried his face into her opening, making Denise screech in delight as every circuit in her body seemed to light up all at once with the sensations flowing up from her groin…

****

This scene emphasizes one small problem that might be lurking within the AIs of Stepford as described in Uncom's stories; with a 5-to-1 ratio of AI to organic, how do those who don't have an organic husband get to fulfil their basic "sex toy" programming with those they were built to serve? Sure, having tech trial-induced orgies would work okay to a certain extent, but actually being with an organic lover...