Lina, Part 2

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DukeNukem 2417
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Lina, Part 2

Post by DukeNukem 2417 » Fri Oct 04, 2019 6:37 am

Author's Note: Before we begin, I'm VERY glad to have seen the response "Part 1" got--and I'm also thankful that the character limit has been increased so full 20-page bits of the story can be posted, in their entirety, without a break right in the middle. With all that out of the way.....
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To this day, I still can't believe that me not having a smartphone would've been one of the best things to ever happen in my life. The fact that the phone I got ended up landing me the girl of my dreams (in more ways than one) is even more insane....it took me a while to stop expecting that I'd wake up one morning and find that it was all just some weird-ass dream I'd been having. Thankfully, it wasn't.....anyway, where was I? Oh, right...

Lina had just left my house, and I was on the sofa, still in a blissed-out daze as to what had transpired. My brother, after chasing off the last two party-goers with a 9-iron, proceeded to utterly ignore me in favor of pacing around the living room ranting about a bunch of random topics I barely paid attention to. Eventually, he either picked up on the fact that I wasn't listening or got bored and stalked off to his makeshift room—I say “makeshift” because, ever since he got a job, he'd managed to find himself an apartment uptown and spent more of his time there, only showing up to help with the bills and make sure the lease was up-to-date.

As for me....well, after being lost in thought for about half an hour or so, I finally remembered that I did, in fact, have the rest of the day to get through. I went back to doing what I did best—working on my novel and petting the cat, once she'd finally emerged from under the bed.

Dinner, my nightly routine and sleep passed by in a sort of haze...

The next two days were pretty much uneventful. Apart from the usual calls from Mom's old “friends”, offering their blatantly-fake sympathy for her situation (their messages were deleted without a second thought) and a voice message from my brother telling me he was thinking of pursuing charges against one of the “guests” from the party (something about the use of a frisbee as a potentially dangerous weapon), there was nothing too interesting. I did have a great e-mail exchange with Lina, thankfully; according to her, Lucy had no problems with the transfer of ownership, and the paperwork was going well.

The only really weird thing that happened the first day after the party was a black van—not even a van, more like some kind of tricked-out Suburban, really—passing by on the block, doing at least three laps at various points in the day. I had no idea who the Hell would want to decorate a Suburban to look like a stealth van or something, but I didn't really pay any attention to it….

...though I'll admit, I couldn't help but shake the feeling that whoever was driving it was watching....

Anyway, Post-Party Day 1 was uneventful—oh, and I went back to the forum, of course, but...obviously, after having been with Lina, the manips and stories.....none of it really felt the same. I mean, yes, they were well-written and well-made, but knowing what I knew, that there really were androids and gynoids out in the world (or at least gynoids...though somehow, I couldn't really believe that the female of the “species” were the only ones out and about), it kind of lessened the impact of everything available for “consumption”.

So...yeah. Post-Party Day 1....not a lot to write home about.

Post-Party Day 2: the local police decided to show up, on the grounds of a well-meaning complaint from a neighbor in regards to the idiots fighting in the backyard. Thankfully, I wasn't being charged with anything—I had, after all, been otherwise engaged when the fighting had started, and hadn't attempted to actively encourage or promote the brawl, so I was in the clear. I answered a few questions, gave as good a description of the lunkheads who'd been beating the piss out of each other as I could, and generally tried my best to not give any false information.

The only noteworthy thing about that: one of the female officers noticed my phone, and gave me a bit of the old side-eye throughout the questioning. I barely thought anything about it, at the time...Hell, my initial impression was that she might've been apprasing me—as in, making sure I wasn't giving off any obvious vibes that might mean I was lying. In any case, she and the other three officers ended up with plenty of notes, and left without incident.

I did wonder, later in the day, about that one female officer...in the end, I chalked it up to wishful thinking.

Just after the cops left, Doug Kreski—a buddy of mine, who'd missed the party the day before on account of having to tend to a family issue—called me up on the landline. We'd lost touch after high school, and from what I understand, he kinda sorta maybe ended up on a downward spiral...but he'd cleaned himself up and was now dedicated to making amends and pretty much living life to the fullest (and cleanest). “MATT! How'd the party go, man?

“Pretty well...kind of sucked without you there.”

Eh, next time I'll show up the day before, camp out in the yard...can't miss it if I'm already there, amiright?

I chuckled; Doug always had a knack for “out-there” ideas. “Dunno if that's how it works, but....anyway, you didn't miss much. It ended with a fight.”

Man, your brother can't even throw a party right....anything else happen?

“Well, I.....ah, I met someone.”

Whoa, what?! You actually met a girl?!

“....yeah.” I grinned. “Completely out of the blue. Her name's Lina.”

Nice! What's she like?

“In terms of looks, or personality?”

“....uh, both, I guess.

“Amazing. She's blonde...a few inches shorter than me...as far as body type, she's...beautiful....” I checked my phone, scrolling through to get to the Photos folder where Lina had left her picture.

Damn, man! Sounds like you landed a real five-star score!

“She's not just a 'score', Doug. She's nice, polite....she even pointed out everything wrong with Fenton's ideas, but actually said there was potential if he scraped away all the crap....” I chuckled again. “Took five minutes to sum up what I've tried to say in five years.”

She didn't meet him, did she?

“She saw him run out with the 9-iron to break up the fight....” I rolled my eyes at the memory. “I actually just finished talking to the cops about it. Nobody's getting charged with anything, but I've got a feeling Fenton isn't going to let it go any time soon. He went on one of his rants last night....”

Man, Fenton just needs to chill. Doesn't he have a girl of his own?

“Last time I checked, yeah...hey, ah, I'm not doing anything else important for the rest of the day. You up for grabbing a bite up-town, catching up...all that shit?”

Hell yeah! Everything's sorted on my end...I'll be there in five!

“Nice...you've still got the camper van, right? Not the Probe?” Doug, for the past five years, had driven a clapped-out Ford Probe with entirely too many modifications, half of which only he knew how to fix.

Chris wrecked the Probe two months ago, dude—wasn't really his fault, though.”

“Damn....sorry to hear that. I'll be ready in three. See you later, Doug!” I ended the call, chuckling—Chris Whitaker, Doug's “partner-in-crime” for many years, had a history of driving like a fiend at any given chance. “This should be a fun little interlude....” I glanced at the cat. “You'll be okay here on your own, right?”

The cat, being a cat, just stared at me, looking as bored as usual.

“.....I knew you'd say that.” I grinned. “Just don't claw the recliner too badly, okay?”

The cat yawned at me and curled up on her perch by the front door.

Four minutes later (Doug always has a habit of showing up early if he can help it), a camper van skidded to a stop in the drive way, followed by three honks of the horn. “YO, MATT!”

“GIMME A SECOND, DOUG!” Once my shoes were on and I'd said a quick “bye for now” to the cat (who returned the gesture by just staring at me), I was out the door, giving Dave a high-five/hug combo under the carport. “You,” I declared, “look like you've been seizing the day with a vengeance for the last five years.”

Doug laughed. “You look pretty damn good yourself, man! How's it hangin'?”

“All is well, and all things shall be well.” I gave him another high five, and we both headed back to his van. “SO, where we heading for lunch? You have any preferences, or...”

“We can just hit up a place on Fast Food Alley, man. I'm not picky.”

“Really? I thought you'd gone vegan or something.” I climbed into the passenger side of the camper van.

“I'll just get a salad or something...you can get whatever you want. I'm not a judgemental vegan.” Doug cracked up. “I swear, my girlfriend's ex-roommate, Traye...you can't even have milk, cheese, eggs or meat in the house when she's around! She, like, 'senses the aura' or some crap, and she starts freaking out and moaning, saying she can hear the Earth screaming....weirds me out every time.”

“....'hear the Earth screaming'?” It was such a weird-ass line, I couldn't help but laugh.

“Hell if I know, man....anyway, let's go! I'm starving...”

Fast Food Alley, obviously, isn't the official name of that particular street uptown, but it's the one that fits. Every single chain/franchise food place that has a presence around town has a restaurant on Fast Food Alley—at least a quarter of them are family-owned places, but the rest are all national. The drive was pretty short, maybe fifteen, twenty minutes, at the very most; we ended up settling on a family-owned burger joint, namely because the fries were great, Dave and I both had discounts there, and they didn't have one of those stupid ball pits that snakes like to hang out in.

The phone actually buzzed when one of the girls behind the counter stepped up to take our order; I couldn't help but think even here?, before Doug finished his order and I had to give mine. The girl in question looked...attractive, in a plain sort of way—maybe “plain” isn't the right word for it. She looked kind of like an actress playing someone working the counter for a TV show, or something...kind of a polished, almost “produced” look to her. Whatever the case, Dave and I got our orders down and found a place to sit.

“So,” Doug mused, “this Lina...”

“She's awesome. Read my first book—she had the same reaction as almost everyone else to the salesman...”

“I told you that one was gonna be a standout, Matt!”

“Yeah, well....she didn't complain about it...” I retrieved my phone, scrolling to the picture that Lina had included—more than likely for a situation similar to what I was in right now. “Here's a pic, if you were wondering....”

Doug glanced at the image, his eyes going wide. “Whoa.”

“I'm guessing I understated it when I said she was 'beautiful'....”

“Yeah, you understated it! She's friggin' gorgeous, man!”

“I'm sure she'd take that as high praise...in any case, she's getting some stuff sorted, and she'll be moving in with me in two days. I'll probably let her have Fenton's old room, since he's got that swank place of his own now.” I rolled my eyes at the thought. “So, ah...”

The door chime binged, and I got a nice big dose of déjà vu—the pale, slim redhead and the surfer dude from the day before walked in. Both of them seemed more interested in the girl who'd taken my order (and Doug's); the surfer dude even went so far as to ask for her specifically.

“...you know those two?” Doug asked, frowning as he moved to get a good look at the pair.

“They were at the party yesterday. Barged into my room, twice...first, when it was just starting, then later, when I was talking to Lina.” I watched the pair—they were almost quizzing the girl behind the counter, asking when her shift ended and that kind of stuff....and she obviously didn't want to talk to either of them.

“That dude looks like he's been on some downers, or something,” Doug muttered. “Like he's not all there, y'know?”

“He does look a bit...out of it, actually....” I frowned. “And the girl looks like she doesn't want to be here.”

“I'd rather eat here than at Frenchy's....” Doug cut himself off as another girl—blonde, with her hair in pigtails and looking like a a “Queen of the County Fair” type—approached, bringing our food. “Here you go! And....” She set down a glass of Sprite on the table in front of me, and a glass of water in front of Doug.

“Thanks.” I nodded—and slid my phone back to my side of the table before Doug could catch the FCon notice.

“....so, ah, this Lina...” Doug took a bite of his salad, nodding his approval. “You got, like, any plans for the future with her, or anything like that?”

“...what, you mean like marriage?”

“Well, yeah!” Doug waved his fork for emphasis—thankfully, the tomato on the end didn't fly off and hit anyone. “I mean, don't get pissed, man, but I kinda never really saw you as...I guess, the marrying type....”

“I never saw me as the marrying type either...but that was way before Lina.” I paused to take a few bites of my burger, my thoughts drifting back to how I'd told Lina that I wanted, more than anything, to be with her—and her tearful, smiling reaction to it; I nodded—both at the memory, and at how good the burger was. “I can't imagine life without her, now.”

“Man, you've got it together,” Doug stated, grinning for emphasis. “Your own place, a girlfriend....”

“'My' place,” I echoed, rolling my eyes. “My place that my folks....my dad left me, after '15....all the work put in, and all the times they said Fenton was going to get it, and he goes and gives it to me. I still remember what he said, before he drove off: 'You take care of this place, Matt. You take care of it, like we took care of you your whole life'.”

Doug nodded solemnly. “How's he doin' these days?”

“Not sitting on his ass in some lounge and getting fat on Clams Casino, that's for damn sure.” I took a pull on my Sprite before continuing: “He's out touring the country with Uncle Byron...biking—well, motorcycling, really. They said something about building a cabin up in Washington State, just getting away from it all for a few months.”

“Sounds like a plan to me. Any, ah....news, about....”

“My mom?” I was surprised at how calm I sounded.

“....we don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, man—”

“They've agreed to not call me unless her outbursts end up hurting someone.” I punctuated the statement by taking another bite of my burger and washing it down with a swig of Sprite. “The last time they called was four months ago, just when I was about to be on the news to talk about my new book. Other than that, nothing.”

“...what about the funeral?”

“What, Granddad's, in January?” I scoffed. “She got in an 'altercation' the night before...they revoked her pass.”

Shit, man....that's....it sucks to hear that, seriously.”

“Eh, well....” I shrugged. “The same time her mental health went on the downward spiral, his physical health went that route. Everyone was surprised at how long he held out, really....”

Doug nodded. “Which one of your cousins tried to say you were a sociopath for not crying at the funeral?”

“Almost all of them from my dad's sister's family. Fenton went and told one of 'em, that one told the rest, and they all think I'm 'emotionally and psychologically unstable'.” I rolled my eyes and reached for a handful of French fries. “If they had as many negative memories of him as I did, they'd know why I didn't cry...anyway. How's everything on your end?”

“Other than my girlfriend hoping she doesn't have to go to court over the stupid lease agreement—”

“What, the one she signed with Traye?” A few fries fell out of my hand. “Her ex-roommate?”

“Traye kicked up a big stink with the homeowners' association, told 'em that Missy's behind on her payments or some lame crap like that. And Traye's brother's cousin's friend is a lawyer, apparently...” Doug threw his hands up. “Hell if I know when it's gonna get sorted—” A few notes of a punk rock song trilled from his pocket. “I bet that's her right now, man.” He sighed, checked his phone... “Damn it.”

“It's her?”

“Worse. The homeowners' association. I gotta take this, man.” Doug got up from his seat, heading for the men's room.

“I'll be here,” I called after him, getting a no-look thumbs-up in return.

Out of boredom, I decided to take a look around the other booths, see who was sitting where—surprisingly, the surfer guy and the redhead had taken a seat near the center of the restaurant. The guy, for some reason, looked like he had no idea what he wanted off the menu, and the redhead kept kicking his shin under the table, doing a pretty bad job of trying to mouth suggestions without looking conspicuous.

He must be on something a lot stronger than downers, I realized. Either that, or....

The redhead kicked the guy in the shin again—and this time, he replied by yelling “What?!” and throwing an arm out.

Now, this would've only caused something of a scene, had it not been for the fact that the same waitress who'd set the plates at the table for Doug and me was walking by, with a full tray of drinks (and cutlery), when the surfer guy swung his arm out—predictably, it caught her in the midsection, she dropped the tray (spilling the drinks in the process), and proceeded to slip on the drinks and accidentally stab herself in the side with a fork on the way down.

The redhead instantly got up from the table, without a word, and headed for the exit, looking like she was about to have a panic attack. The surfer guy, on the other hand, only barely realized that he'd incapacitated the waitress...

...and then, as I was looking from the waitress to him, he looked up at me.

Slowly, as if he'd just realized that I'd caught him in the act (whatever “the act” was), he got out of his seat at the booth, stepped on the waitress' arm (I legitimately thought he must've been on something insanely strong not to notice her) and followed the redhead out to the exit.

As soon as the door chime sounded, I was out of my chair, grabbing napkins to help wipe up the spilled drinks—and, by proxy, keep them from getting to the hole in the damaged waitress's side. Knowing what I did about Lina, I guess I wasn't as surprised that this girl was a gynoid, too. “You okay?”

“...I'm fine....” The wince on her face and in her voice told me the waitress was anything but fine.

“You've got a fork in your side. Pretty sure that's not 'fine' by any standard.”

“What...” The waitress turned, seeing the utensil embedded in her side, and groaned. “I didn't even feel it...”

“Do you want me to, ah....” Considering the implications, I grabbed another fork before making a pulling motion.

“....yeah.”

I wrapped a napkin around my hands (part of me didn't want to get a sudden shock from pulling the fork out), and I did the best I could to cleanly yank the fork out of the waitress's side—the only other customers on “my” side, or in any of the booths closest to where she'd fallen were card-carying members of the Grey Hair Brigade, so none of them saw the sparking hole or the metal underneath her uniform shirt. “....can you stand?”

“....I...think so...”

“Lemme help...” I offered my shoulder, for the waitress to put her arm around, and gently guided her to her feet.

“What's going on here?”

Normally, after hearing that question asked in such a commanding tone, my instinct is usually address the situation (and the speaker) as quickly as possible...but given the fact that I had a damaged waitress gynoid leaning on me for support, I had to take it a bit slower than usual. “The idiot sitting at this booth clocked her in the stomach, and she spilled her drinks and slipped....” I turned, slowly, doing my best to not emphasize the hole in the waitress's side. “And she, ah, accidentally stabbed herself with a fork...”

The woman who'd asked what was going on could've been in her early-to-mid 40s or late 30s, depending on hair, makeup and clothing choices—I'm pretty sure that her smile would've been a lot easier on the eyes than the suspicious stare she'd chosen to focus on me. “And the 'idiot' in question?”

“Left,” the waitress admitted. “There was a girl with him, a redhead....”

“She left first,” I chimed in. “He, ah, left after he noticed that I'd seen him...”

Someone from the other side of the restaurant called out: “I saw 'em both! They were having some kind of argument, and then the guy just swung his arm out and hit your waitress in the stomach!” I wondered, for a second, if he'd heard of the concept of the “indoor voice”.... anyway, the copper-haired 40-something woman—looking distinctly managerial in what I could only guess was a tailored jacket, blouse and fitted, knee-length skirt—nodded. “And you're sure you're not..hurt, too badly, Jess?”

“It's just a scratch, ma'am.”

“I, ah, did my best to wipe up the spilled drinks,” I added. “So, ah, nobody else would slip, or anything.”

The manager regarded me with a look—at that moment, I could tell that she knew I knew what had really happened. “I see. And you are...”

“Matt. Matt Harker.”

Another waitress showed up to help Jess, leaving the manager to talk to me. “...thank you, Mr. Harker.” She turned to walk away, but paused. “I suppose it'd be heartless of me to not show some level of gratitude for how you helped Jess, so...” She turned and handed me a folded envelope. “And I'll have you marked down for bottomless fries on the house for the rest of the year.”

“....thanks, ma'am.” I nodded, shook hands with the manager and stepped aside to let her pass before heading back to my table. The elderly patrons sitting all around gave no indication that they'd understood anything from my exchange with the manager; I had to wonder if any of them even knew that the waitresses were gynoids, or if they even knew what gynoids were.

Doug emerged from the bathroom about three minutes later, shaking his head and looking more than a bit pissed off.

“....everything okay?”

“The homeowners' association needs 'sworn testimony' about my gf making all her payments on time...” Doug half-fell into his seat, groaning. “Man, I'd sell the tires off the van just so I wouldn't have to put up with this...”

“I'm sure you'll get it sorted sooner or later.” I shrugged and took a pretty big bite out of my burger.

“I'd rather not have to sort it, man,” Doug muttered. “How do you put up with it?”

Despite the burger being mere inches from my mouth, I decided to reply. “With what?”

“Your own place, and all that...you don't seem all that stressed about being a struggling writer and having to pay bills all the damn time.”

“Aspiring writer,” I corrected, doing my best not to chuckle. “There's a big difference between 'aspiring' and 'struggling', believe me...I can't even say I'm 'aspiring' anymore, since I did get a book out—and I've got another one on the way, if all goes well.” With that, I finished off my burger and fries. “Well, I'm done—wish we'd had a chance to talk more—”

“S'not your fault, man.” Doug checked his phone again. “I gotta get back to my place anyway...work on my 'testimony'.”

“I'm sure you'll do fine. You want the salad to go, or what?”

The drive back to my place was uneventful—apart from some idiot cutting across three lanes of traffic and getting horns and middle-fingers from everyone else on the road (except Doug). I got back home in one piece, thanked Doug for the drive (we'd split the bill for the meal), and headed back inside to say hi to the cat and get on with the day.

The only other calls I got that day were from my brother—again, mostly him rambling about the idiots who'd been fighting out in the back yard, which somehow turned into a screed on “right of free passage and travel”, and then just went so far off the rails I just stopped paying attention. I actually focused more on playing with the cat than listening to the rest of the call—good on my part, since my brother had to go “do a thing” after a few minutes, and ended the call.

Yet again, I headed back to the forum....and yet again, I felt like it was kind of a letdown, after Lina. The level of creative thought and editing was there, of course, but....

I knew, or at least suspected, that if I posted on the forum about what'd happened with Lina, nobody would believe a word I wrote. Oh, they'd say it was a Hell of a story, of course, but none of them would ever take it for anything remotely resembling the truth...and in all honesty, I wouldn't blame them. There'd been some uproar over some footage from '15, back in that year, something about a courthouse, being proof of “genuine fembots”, but it had died down after the admin nuked the thread on the grounds of not wanting to get sued. I hadn't seen it, personally, but from what I heard from those who did, it was...interesting.

Anyway, apart from lunch with Doug and the thing with the waitress, the Post-Party Day 2 went on, as boring as ever....

...actually, no. Not exactly like the day before.

That black Suburban, the one doing slow laps from the day before, was back—I first noticed it making “stops” all up and down the street at around ten past one. Didn't see anything of the people driving it, but I did notice people in these weird getups exiting the vehicle, asking questions to anyone out in their yards. Once or twice, they'd knock on a door, get an answer, and either leave or commence with the quizzing.

Now, normally, I'd chalk this up to a simple door-to-door campaign, maybe an election-season thing or some kind of fund-raiser, but this...this felt different. It felt ominous.

Somehow, I couldn't shake the feeling that whoever these people were, they might be after Lina and Lucy.

By extension, that might mean they were after me.

The Suburban never stopped at my house, of course—well, didn't pull up the driveway and park, I mean. It did stop in front of the house, four hours later...midway through watching TV, I saw it just...parked there, middle of the road, for a good five minutes or so. Nobody got out, nobody approached the house....

...but I knew that someone was in that Suburban, watching me.

Needless to say, I pulled the shades down and made damn sure the doors were locked after that thing drove off.

I didn't mention the Suburban in my e-mail to Lina that evening—I didn't know if she knew about it, and I didn't want her to panic just because some randos in a Suburban decided to drive around going door-to-door. I didn't even know if they had any connection to Lina and Lucy...whatever the case, I tried not to think about it. Fed the cat, did the usual, ate dinner, went to bed...all the usual stuff.

The only weird thing about that night—the only really weird thing—was the dreams I had. A few of them were pretty interesting, and would've made for some damn good scenes for the novel....but one in particular stood out. I was in a city, somewhere—skyscrapers, dark alleys, the works—and that damn stupid black Suburban was following me. The alleyways and such became a maze, with me running through and trying to find shortcuts to figure out how to put as much distance between myself and that Suburban as I could. Even when I couldn't see it or hear it, I felt like it was following me...it was creepy as Hell, and I wasn't surprised that I woke up in a cold sweat.

Thankfully, the rest of the dreams I had that night weren't nearly as weird—and they went in the Inspiration Notebook.

Post-Party Day 3 started like the rest. Got out of bed, fed the cat, usual morning routine...nothing weird. As soon as I sat down to check my e-mail, though, I knew the day was going to get interesting. Right at the top of the inbox, I saw a new message from Lina.

Title: “Coming Over Today w/Lucy!!!!”

Basically, the e-mail itself elaborated—the paperwork had been finished, and Lucy would be showing up around lunch, probably. Lina even sent a pic of herself and Lucy to celebrate: she was wearing a pink top and white shorts, smiling and giving a sideways “peace” sign to the phone camera. As for Lucy, she looked...bored. I could guess she was around my age, just from the photo; her skin tone was half a shade darker than Lina's, and while Lina had taken her hair out of the ponytail she'd worn it in at the party, Lucy had apparently decided to put hers (dark brown, almost walnut bordering on black), up in one. Her attire suggested someone who'd done the “desk jockey” thing for a while before deciding they hated it—a dress shirt in a sort of neutral grey-blue, glasses, black pants and one earring.

I took another shower, despite having bathed already the night before (I alternate between showers and baths, given the circumstances), and did the best I could to spruce myself up before Lina and Lucy showed up—better to make a good impression on Lucy than come off looking like a total slob....

The cat, naturally, found this routine rather “blah”, and just went about her usual business.

As the clock ticked on, I started to fall into that thought trap of baseless worrying: “what if they got stuck in traffic?” “What if Lucy changed her mind?” “What if they got into a wreck?” “What if...” and so on, and so forth, and lah-dee-fuckin' dah. It's a problem I used to have a lot, before Dad left and Mom....also left; I went to counseling to get over it, and it's never been that bad since then, but I didn't want it to get that bad. Last thing I needed before Lina and Lucy showed up was to look like a babbling fool.

Thankfully, I got my shit together and calmed the Hell down. I decided against dressing full-on corporate casual, and just went with jeans, a good shirt and a quick once-over with the comb, etc.

Just to make a good impression, I ordered out for lunch—pizza, specifically, which I went for as soon as possible so it'd be done and delivered before Lina and Lucy showed up, if at all possible. Thankfully, the delivery guy showed up five minutes before 11 AM (I tend to keep a loose “schedule” in terms of stuff like lunch). I didn't start on my own slices before Lina and Lucy showed up, and pretty much just watched TV, did Internet stuff and kept an eye on the cat.

10 minutes after the pizza guy left, Lucy's car pulled up in the driveway. At least, I assumed it was Lucy's—I hadn't gone out to watch Lina leave on the day of the party, after all...

Thankfully, the first one out of the car was, in fact, Lina. She smiled and waved as she made her way to the side door; she looked as incredible as she had during the party, and just seeing her again brought back those warm, fuzzy, “heart in the throat” feelings from that day. We shared a quick hug when she got to the door...

...a moment only slightly dampened by Lucy calling out “That's him?” from the car.

Yes,” Lina insisted. “If you hadn't been so out of it the last time we were here...”

Lucy didn't immediately reply to Lina's remarks, choosing instead to give me a glare as she made her way into the front room. She didn't acknowledge the pizza boxes on the kitchen counter, and headed for the sofa instead. “...anybody else around here?”

“Just me and the cat. My brother has a place uptown...he drops by sometimes. Pretty sure he won't be here today.”

Again, Lucy didn't immediately reply. “....you got pizza?”

“Will you stop?” Lina cut in, shaking her head. “You already said he fits the bill for the kind of person you wanted me to be with, so quit acting like he's not worth your time.”

“I never fucking said he wasn't worth my fucking time,” Lucy shot back, turning her glare on me again.

“.....I, ah, didn't know if you'd had lunch yet,” I admitted. “Also, ah...does Lina eat, or....”

“I can eat—it's not essential to my function, or anything, it just helps me blend in.” Lina shrugged. “You want a few slices, Lucy, or....”

“I'll get it myself.” Lucy grunted, pushing herself off the couch and heading for the kitchen

“....is she pissed off at me, or something?”

“She'll warm up to you soon enough.” Lina grinned. “I think she just likes seeing how people react to her, at first...don't ask me why.”

A few minutes later, after we'd all enjoyed a substantial portion of the pizza, we sat back down in the living room—me in one of the recliners, Lina by the computer and Lucy, once again, on the sofa. “You live here by yourself?” Lucy asked, sounding only slightly less pissed-off than she'd been earlier.

“Like I said, my brother drops in from time to time.”

“Parents?”

“Dad moved out of state.....” I gave a quick, humorless chuckle. “Mom got committed to a mental institution.”

Lucy didn't hesitate to follow up on that particular remark. “Why?”

“.....back in 2015, she saw....something on TV. I don't even remember what. She kicked up a big stink, called us into the front room—Dad, my brother and me—and told us we were going to uproot, leave everything behind and move to Nova Scotia to live off the land, or some weirdness like that. She was half-screaming, half-crying the whole time, going on about Satan and the powers of darkness and a war against God....said she wanted to protect us all from Hell, yadda yadda yadda.” I rolled my eyes at the memory. “Dad got up, told her she was full of shit and left in the truck. Turned out he was going to the courthouse and the church to have the marriage annulled.”

Lina looked horrified; Lucy still looked bored. “....and?”

I frowned. “Mom refused to accept the annulment, said Dad was being used by Satan to drive the family apart. Dad put a restraining order on her, she kept showing up. We'd go to holiday get-togethers—Easter, Thanksgiving, Christmas, all that stuff—at relatives' houses, Mom would show up and start ranting.” I stared at the floor, my fists clenched. “I lost a voice-acting gig because she showed up at the studio, waving a crucifix and a Bible and screaming at everybody about how 'her son was being perverted by sin', all that shit....could've made $7,000 off of that one gig, and I had to give it up. Then she chased off my brother's girlfriend, nearly ran her over with a stolen car....”

“And they put her in the padded cell after that?”

I tried to glare at Lucy, but couldn't find the anger. “...Dad, my brother and I all signed off on it. She'd stopped taking her meds for bipolar disorder in favor of spending her nights at church, praying by herself. Whatever she 'heard' on those nights, I'm pretty damn sure it wasn't the Voice of God.”

Lina moved to the other recliner, next to the one I was in. “That sounds horrible....”

I shrugged. “Everyone in the family said Mom was always a little bit off,” I admitted. “Uncle Frank was surprised it hadn't happened sooner.” I scoffed at the memory. “Last time she showed up, after she'd been committed, was when the last of our dogs had died...she showed up in the middle of the night, trying to give a funeral mass over the grave. A neighbor heard the commotion, chased her out of the yard.”

Lucy arched an eyebrow. “....and you haven't heard from her since?”

“Her, no. Her stupid, bitchy 'friends'? All the damn time. They call, trying to offer their 'sympathy', always giving their 'thoughts and prayers'....they're half the damn reason she's in the rubber room now.”

Lina put an arm around my shoulder. “I'm so sorry you had to go through all that, Matt....”

“Eh, she's in high-security now. No chance of escape, unless there's an earthquake or someone raids the place.”

“....so what about you?”

“Aspiring novelist and occasional amateur voice-actor.”

Lucy nodded. “Lina tells me you two fucked—”

Lucy!

“.....you two had sex in two different rooms.”

I rolled my eyes. “The bathroom and my room.” I got out of the recliner, sighing. “Follow me....”

A few seconds later, the three of us stood outside the bathroom. “She was standing here, by the towel cabinet, when I triggered Debug Mode on the phone. Asked her what she wanted—”

“I know. You did it standing, right?”

Lina groaned, but I nodded. “Sort of between the cabinet and the back wall of the tub. I asked her to turn her head around, 180 degrees....”

“...why that in particular?”

“It was the heat of the moment! I wasn't about to start reaching for panels or anything like that!” I glanced at Lucy, who was actually smirking at my indignation. “Nothing wrong with a good old twister,” she admitted, nodding. “So after you finished up in there...”

“We went back to my room.” I gestured to the door. “We talked, she went back into human mode...”

Without preamble, Lucy walked past me into my room. Lina just rolled her eyes and followed her in, with me close behind. “....a Sailor Moon figure?” Lucy muttered, picking up the item in question.

“That's S.H. Figuarts,” I shot back. “I happen to like the series.”

“I have the series,” Lucy casually replied. “Blu-ray.” She went over the rest of my collection—books, DVDs, figures, and everything in between. “You ever have anyone else in here?” she inquired. “Friends, casual acquaintances, co-workers, hookers—”

LUCY!” Lina was obviously pissed off, but also trying her best not to giggle.

“.....Lina was my first time. And my second, obviously.” Lucy's barbs were annoying, but not enough to piss me off like all the stupid crap I'd had to put up with in high school and my first attempt at a job. “Didn't hear any complaints from her.” I glanced at Lina, who nodded.

“.....all right.” Lucy sighed. “Back to the front room.” She brushed past me without a word; I glanced at Lina, hoping for an explanation, but she just shrugged. I decided to let her leave first, following her back to the living room.

By the time we were all situated again, Lucy asked to see my phone. I handed it over, despite feeling a wave of utterly random paranoia that she'd smash the thing on the floor. “....you got this from a co-worker of your uncle,” she mused, scrolling through the apps. “Right?”

“He was trading up to a new model, I got that as a 'starter'.”

“And you never tried to use FCon before the party?”

“I thought it was a joke,” I insisted. “It had never gone off the way it had at the party...and before you ask why I was hiding in the tub, I was in the middle of doing my business—”

“Taking a shit, you mean.”

Lina buried her face in one hand, but I soldiered on anyway. “.....might as well go with that. I was....doing that—well, reading a book after finishing with...that—and the phone went off with a dozen 'confirmed' signals. Then one of them started moving towards the bathroom....”

“So you hid. In the tub.”

Lucy...” Lina didn't look nearly as pissed off as she sounded. “I already explained all of it to you—and for the record, you're the one who never bothered to check my arousal levels between parties!”

Rather than argue with Lina, Lucy handed me back the phone. “Right. Just a few more quick questions. You get off to reading malfunction scenes before?”

“Yes.” I figured lying at this point wouldn't do me any favors.

“And would you ever intentionally damage Lina for—”

Hell no.”

“....would you ever alter Lina's personality, erase her memories, or—”

“No.”

I got another arched eyebrow from Lucy, but rather than wait for her to ask another question, I decided to just go for the gusto. “Just because I get off to stuff from the forum, I'm not going to start trying to play that out with Lina. I told her I love her for who she is and what she is, and I'm not going to prioritize one over the other.”

After a few seconds of silence, Lucy nodded. “....didn't even let me get to the questions about girl-girl, but—”

“Lucy....” Lina was flat-out giggling now. “We've been over that before...” She glanced at me, doing her best to keep a straight face. “....if that ever came up, though....”

I held both hands up. “You really, truly want to try it, I won't stop you.”

Lucy was looking at her own phone, now. “Well, unless you've been studying method acting, you're not lying through your teeth, so....” She smirked again. “Lina, do the thing.”

“Which one—”

“You know which one.”

Lina giggled again. “Okay, okay....” She turned to glance at me, whispering “I think you're going to like this, Matt...”

Without another word, she rose from the recliner—in the stiffest, most robotic way possible.

My eyes went wide. My pulse raced. A familiar increase was making itself known below the belt line.

I watched, transfixed, as Lina took a lap around the room, walking in that perfect, staccato robotic walk I'd seen so many times before in videos...except she did it a thousand times better. She even did that thing where she'd jerk a bit after moving, like that “compliance” feature in animatronics. Every second she moved, the air around me seemed to warm up just a little bit more...I couldn't look away.

Lucy was watching, as well—probably still smirking the whole time, especially at what happened next.

After completing her circuit around the room, Lina robotically approached me. Without a word, she spun on her heel, then dropped her butt right into my lap and proceeded to give the sexiest, most robotic lap dance I'd ever seen.

Anyone taking my temperature at that point would've probably thought I'd come down with a massive fever.

I did, in fact, reach out to her a few times during her dance, but somehow, I couldn't bring myself to actually touch her at any point. Nervousness was beginning to take hold, alongside the....stirrings....and I actually glanced at Lucy at one point, unsure of what, exactly, I was supposed to do next.

To my surprise (and relief), she nodded, as if to say “go on.”

Slowly, gently, I reached out to touch one of Lina's legs...and felt something jolt through my whole body. I could feel the motors move beneath her skin...I heard the servos rizzing away with every motion.

Before I could pull my hand away, Lina grabbed it, mechanically dragging it up to her side.

My jaw went slack. Something like “uhhhgwahhhhaahhhh” left my throat. I thought the zipper on my jeans was going to explode if things didn't calm down in that particular department

Lina did a picture-perfect, fully-robotic ass shake before turning on her heel, dragging my hand along her stomach as she dropped (robotically) repeated the motion, and faced me. That calm, patient expression she'd had while in Debug Mode had returned, but now it was subtly giving way to a seductive, playful smirk—all accompanied by those delightful little servo sounds that only served to make my brain think I was in a sauna. She released my hand, allowing it (and that arm) to fall limply by my side, before robotically making her way to the center of the living room. She gave a jaunty salute (or as best she could do while moving like the sexiest animatronic I'd ever seen in my life), winked....and then proceeded to bend at the waist, her arms going limp, in the most textbook display of a “power-down” sequence I'd ever seen.

I nearly fell out of the recliner, a half-conscious “huhh-whaaahhhh” kind of laugh leaving my lips. I could tell I had a mile-wide, nearly delirious grin on my face, and couldn't have cared less. No video from the forum, or from anywhere, had come close to what I'd just borne witness to.

Lucy, now actually smiling, nodded again and snapped her fingers.

Lina straightened, her movements once again lifelike and fluid. “Well? How'd I do?”

Huuaaahhh....” I was still in the grips of pure, unfiltered bliss from what I'd just seen.

“I think he likes it,” Lucy mused, chuckling. “Might want to give him mouth to mouth, just to be sure...”

Lina shot her a look before turning her attention back to me. “You did like my, ah, routine....right, Matt?”

“.....yes,” I managed, nodding for emphasis. “HELL yes!” My insane-looking grin remained, albeit in a manner that didn't make me look like I'd be better off running around in a purple suit and green hair. “That.....was amazing!”

“Those dancers and mimes try way too fucking hard sometimes,” Lucy drawled. “I mean, some of them are good, I'd say 9 out of 10....some of them don't give a shit, or they lose the rhythm halfway through....” She shrugged. “Figured it'd be nice to see how an actual gynoid could pull that kind of thing off, for a change.”

I glanced at her, then at Lina. “....I'd say.....you did one Hell of a job.”

Lina's smile warmed my heart (and, rather surprisingly, helped to quell the swell below). “I'll take that as good news.”

“As much as I hate being the moment-killer,” Lucy cut in, “you still have to sign a thing...”

“Right, right....” I nodded. “Think you could, ah...” I continued nodding as Lina let me exit the recliner. “That was just...I mean, wow.”

“And she didn't even take your pants off,” Lucy chuckled; Lina stuck her tongue at her. “Just give him the form...”

A tablet PC with the “Paperwork” on it was presented to me, complete with a stylus to actually sign my name. “Easier to carry around than a bunch of loose sheets,” Lucy explained, noticing my hesitation. “And I figured you'd want a pen instead of trying to write with just your finger....”

“Right, right...” I read over the text, making sure there wasn't any “fine print” or anything dodgy like that. With Lina looking on, and Lucy feigning impatience, I signed. “....done.” I handed the tablet back to Lucy, who nodded. “A few things, before I leave. You can tell your dad and anyone else who asks that you've met someone—do not tell them anything further. I'll drop off some repair supplies tomorrow, and all of her documentation. She doesn't come with a remote, and she doesn't need one, either.”

“'She' is standing right here,” Lina reminded her, planting her hands on her hips. “And perfectly capable of hearing you.”

“....in case you couldn't tell already,” Lucy continued, “she has no problems with sarcasm, irony, hyperbole, metaphor or any of that shit. She won't take things literally, she won't misinterpret a request or command and break something, and that extends to you..” She chuckled. “And she doesn't have any wiring or coding errors that'll cause her to strangle you during sex....of course, if you're into that—”

Lucy...” Lina gave her a warning glare.

“....it's a fucking joke, seriously....anyway.” Lucy nodded. “You need any extra tech support, you call me. You two tie the knot, you let her pick the rings, the venue and the band for the reception...might as well let her handle catering, while you're at it.” She checked her phone again, going over something and muttering to herself; after a few minutes of this, she nodded again. “Lina, you know the rules about open-panel selfies...I see any on Instagram, I'll be here with the screwdrivers in thirty minutes—and you don't encourage her.”

Lina rolled her eyes; I settled for nodding again. “Wouldn't dream of it.”

“Glad to hear it. And if things get too fucked up and you can't fix her yourself...y'know what, I'll just send the address to my place straight to your phone. I always get bored just rattling it off.” She held out her phone, pointing it at mine; as it had when Lina sent me her e-mail address, the phone vibrated—this time, in my hand. “Just bring her to my place, and I'll get her back up and running in no time.”

“Got it. Anything else we need to know?”

“....yeah.” Lucy sat down on the couch, prompting Lina and me to take our seats again. “The guy you got that phone from worked at the Institute, like I do now....key word there, worked. Past tense.”

“....he also worked with my uncle Frank, three months ago,” I mused. “Also past-tense. Haven't seen him in ages.”

“Well, you might want to hope it stays that way. He got in with a weird crowd before he went missing...anyone calls you up, asks if you have his phone, tell 'em to fuck off unless they have proof. Actually, even if they have proof, tell 'em to fuck off.”

“....and why should I tell them to fuck off if they don't have any proof of ownership over the phone?”

Lucy scowled. “Take a wild fucking guess.”

Lina gave her a look. “Lucy....”

Her admonishing talk did little to derail Lucy's mindset. “Those other eleven gynoids at the party? Name anyone else you know who would've had that phone, and wouldn't have called all eleven of 'em into one room for a nice big gynoid orgy.” She rolled her eyes. “...anyway, that phone should've been recalled and wiped before you got it...but seeing as how you didn't go off and have a fembot fuckfest—”

Lucy!

This time, Lina did get Lucy to knock it off. “All right, all right...anyway, never let that phone out of your sight.”

“Wouldn't dream of it. And if I need to put Lina into Debug Mode?”

“That's what FCon is for.” Lucy groaned. “I'm not saying you can't use the phone ever again...just be careful with it.”

“Got it....” I glanced at Lina, frowning thoughtfully.

“You've got that look on your face,” Lucy mused. “That 'I have a crapton of questions to ask' look...I see it way too often at the Institute, usually from people who got sloshed instead of studying.”

Lina giggled. “You're one to talk about getting sloshed, after the party...”

“ANYway.” I propped my chin up on one hand. “....I do have a lot of questions.”

“Well, make 'em quick. I need to get back to the campus before 1, otherwise I'll be knee-deep in the shit.”

I nodded. “For starters....the hair.” I reached over, taking a strand of Lina's hair in my hands and letting it fall through my fingers. “Does it need to get cut? Is it just a swapable hair piece, like a wig?”

“Swappable hairpieces, for the time being. I couldn't get the resin-emulsion sub-dermal capillaries to work right....”

Noticing my somewhat glazed-over look, she groaned. “She can't grow her own hair yet.”

“....fair enough.” I nodded. “What about strength, speed, etc....”

“She won't accidentally flatten the cat by petting it or anything like that. Hard-coded limiters.” Lucy smirked. “Even if some rando douchebag hacked her and ordered her to kill you, she'd go into a failsafe loop and shut down, rather than break your neck.”

“....glad to hear it.”

“Nobody's going to try to hack me,” Lina assured me, leaning over to give me a quick hug. “Even if they had another copy of FCon, they wouldn't have my AAP—Administrative Access Permission....I kinda sorta gave you that when I was on the phone in the bathroom, trying to call out to a shop.”

“...you gave me access permission,” I echoed.

“Well, it all worked out in the end, didn't it?”

“...yeah....but how—”

“She could fucking tell your fucking phone had the fucking app on it, so she fucking let you fucking put her in fuckin' Debug Mode,” Lucy snapped, earning an annoyed glare from Lina. “Anyway....”

“What do I do about charging her?”

Lucy glanced at Lina, who prodded at her exposed navel—pushing it all the way in, then drawing her finger (and the “flesh” of her belly button) out to reveal a port. “Her cord's in the car,” Lucy explained. “Don't plug her into a power strip to recharge, it might cause a brownout in your house. Use a wall outlet, or if you've got a generator, you can hook her up directly to that—and obviously, if there's a storm going outside...” Lina covered her charging port again.

“I get it.” I nodded.

“She can bathe herself,” Lucy continued, guessing my next question. “Internal waterproofing is graded for showers, baths, ponds, lakes, swimming pools and even deep-diving up to 100 feet. Anything past that, put her in a wetsuit and a full-face mask. No idea if she can survive crush depth in the ocean, because I haven't run any tests for that yet.”

“Got it.”

“Heat...she'll withstand a sauna, hot cars and an attic in the California summer. Pretty sure she can't tank a direct hit from a flamethrower or any crazy shit like that, but she'll probably last long enough to pull you out of a burning house...I don't recommend testing that theory, by the way.”

“...I'll keep that in mind.”

“Heavy lifting....she can move appliances around without any problems, but only for short periods of time. You ask her to hold the washing machine over her head, it'll drain her a lot faster than normal day-to-day stuff. Like I said, she's got built-in limiters, so she won't go around accidentally breaking shit all the fucking time.”

“Good to know.”

Lucy kept on talking, as if I hadn't spoken up. “She can eat full meals, and snacks, but she has her limits. Don't try any of that 'eat a full pizza in one sitting' shit, or any 'restaurant challenges', otherwise she'll get backed up.”

“...and what happens if she, ah, gets 'backed up'?”

“You call me, I show up here with the proper equipment and I flush out her systems.” Lucy was giving me a Stony Stare that wasn't quite at the “Of Death” level, but was at least incredibly annoyed.

“Got it....” I glanced at Lina. “All this talk doesn't...upset you, or anything, does it?”

Lina shrugged. “I don't have a problem with it, as long as neither of you start calling me 'it' instead of 'she' and 'her'.”

Lucy checked her phone again. “As far as operational capacity goes, it can run for up to—”

Lina threw the Kleenex box at her. “What did I just say?!”

“....just wanted to make sure everyone was paying attention...” Lucy smirked. “...anyway. Back to dietary bullshit. I highly recommend against bringing her to all-you-can-eat buffets, especially shabu-shabu. She has her limits, and I don't want to have to drive out here four times a week just to clean out her internals because you decided to have her try some bullshit ghost pepper wing challenge.”

“Got it....can she actually eat those without problems?”

“Haven't tried it, wouldn't recommend it.” Lucy scrolled down on the phone. “Sex....as long as you don't try anything that risks compromising her structural integrity....or yours....” She smirked. “...you should be fine on that regard.”

“I'll, ah...keep that in mind.”

“One more thing.” Lucy put the phone away, her stare locked onto me. “I already said you can tell your relatives, friends, all that shit about who Lina is, but not what she is. That goes double for randos and triple for 'the forum'. There are a lot of fuckheads out there who'd pay top dollar for 'something' like her...or they'd pay top dollar for some other fuckheads to just go out and steal her.”

“Don't advertise.” I nodded. “Got it.”

“We'll be fine, Lucy,” Lina insisted. “I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself.” She grinned.

“....yeah, well, I just don't want to see you stripped for parts or any shit like that.” Lucy left the sofa again, stowing the phone and tucking the tablet with the form under one arm. “Also, you two split the chore duties 50/50. She's not your maid, you're not the butler, got it?”

“You can still get me a maid outfit if you want,” Lina whispered, giggling.

Lucy tried for another frown, but ended up just smirking instead. “I have a feeling that you two will have a great thing going, and I'm just doing everything I can to make sure you don't fuck it up. I didn't put months of effort into writing, designing and building her just to dump her off on some rando who'd use her up and throw her out—”

“Which I won't.”

I don't know what it was about how I said those words, but Lucy actually smiled again. “You've got a good head on your shoulders, your heart's in the right place, and you're not thinking with your dick—”

“Lucy....”

“I'm just fucking with him, Lina...it doesn't take a genius to figure out that the two of you belong together. “ Lucy nodded, turning towards the door. “I'll go get the charging cord and a few other basics, and then I'll be on my way, so you two lovebirds do whatever you want to do.”

“Ah, before you go....I was just wondering.”

Lucy groaned. “If it's about positions—”

“More like papers. Social Security card, birth certificate, driver's license, proof of insurance...all that stuff.” I glanced at Lina. “Does she have all of that in order, or....”

Lucy regarded me with a frown. “You really think I'd design, program and build a sentient gynoid without giving her the proper papers?”

“....well, I, ah.....” I shrugged. “None of the stories on the forum ever really bring that aspect of it up!”

Again, Lucy groaned, striding over to the sofa and flopping down. “Yes, she has all of her papers in order,” she stated, her face half-buried in a cushion. “She's on file and all that....has a license, she's passed her driver's test, and she can probably help you with the bills and all that stuff, too.”

“....and if I was to, say, transfer the lease on the house to Lina and myself, instead of just me?”

“Who's the co-owner?” Lucy had re-positioned herself to where she was actually sitting on the sofa properly.

“My dad.”

“Your brother's not on it?”

“He lost out on that when he got his own place uptown...he thinks he's still on the lease, for some reason or another.”

“Well, you can put Lina on it in his place, then.” Lucy checked her phone, scrolling few a few screens. “Every possible paper she'd need is in order, and I've got all the necessities in a lockbox in the car....” She chuckled. “To be honest, I'm actually glad you're getting into all of the details here...most of the guys Lina's met at parties before are less focused on her financial situation and more on her—”

“Don't,” Lina warned, looking equally pissed-off and amused.

“...you don't even fucking know what I'm about to say.....” Lucy rolled her eyes. “Anyway. While I'm thinking about it, don't let her go apply for fifty credit cards or any shit like that. I'm still working on getting all of her paperwork into the system—for instance, if you let her get a job or something—but if anyone decides to do a little digging, they'll look...off.”

“Right.”

“So, unless you've got any other massive, boring-ass questions to ask me, I need to get back to the Institute and spend the rest of the day doing boring, important shit that I swear I've told half my colleagues how to do whenever I'm not around...seriously, is it in one ear and out the other with those people, or fucking what, I never know....” Lucy shook her head. “Anyway. I'll get the paperwork and the cord, and you two try not to fuck each other bow-legged while I'm out—”

LUCY!” Lina gave Lucy a half-hearted shove, trying not to giggle too much.

“We'll do our best.” I managed to keep a straight face. “And, ah....thanks, Lucy. For all of this.”

“Eh, it's nothing....common courtesy, all that shit.” Lucy shrugged. “Lina....you know the drill. You two need anything, you call me, okay?”

Lina nodded. “We will.”

Lucy headed back to her car, leaving Lina and I to contemplate our future together. “....so, this is it, then?” I asked, surprised at how calm I sounded. “We're....together, now?”

“Pretty much,” Lina beamed. “I'm yours—”

I held up a hand. “....this thing about 'ownership'.....I've never been a fan of it. I'm with you because I want to be with you, and I'm really hoping that you're with me not just because of the 'transfer of ownership', but because you want to be with me....”

Lina didn't hesitate. “I do.”

That was all I needed to hear. “....then that's all there is to it.” I smiled, Lina smiled, we leaned closer....

“Could you two not even wait until I leave?” Lucy complained. “Seriously, let me fucking drive out of here before you get your freak on...”

“Lucy!” Lina was full-on giggling. “We were just having a moment...”

“Well, keep your moment until I get out of the fucking driveway...” Lucy handed me the charging cord and the lockbox, doing a pretty damn good job of not smiling. “If I have to explain which end of the cord goes where—”

“You don't.”

“.....well, just to be sure....” Lucy nodded at Lina. “You know the drill.”

Lina rolled her eyes, but nodded and pulled up her top to expose her navel; all the while, Lucy was unspooling the cord, nodding to me. “Find an outlet, plug it in, all that good stuff....”

“Right, right.” I found an outlet behind the sofa that wasn't being used, and plugged it in.

“And the other end goes....here....” Lucy inserted the other end into the port formerly covered by Lina's navel—which caused Lina to instantly stiffen, her eyes taking on a soft blue glow. “Charging mode initiated.”

“....eyes front, cowboy.” Lucy smirked. 'Like I said, wait until I get out of the driveway....”

“I know.” I watched as the glow in Lina's eyes pulsed, apparently in time with the charging cycle. “...can she...hear us, and all that?”

“Say something stupid and see.” I didn't even have to look at Lucy to tell she was grinning like a fiend.

“....yeah, I don't think I'm gonna try that....”

I felt Lucy's hand on my shoulder. “I also suggest you not try any other....extracurricular activities while she's charging, since it might royally fuck up her systems....pretty sure you're not gonna want that to happen.”

“I won't. Believe me I won't.”

“Charging complete.” The end of the cable popped out of the port in Lina's navel, with her hand going up almost instantly to recover the port. Her eyes were back to normal, without the glow, and she glanced my way with a playful grin. “So....you like?”

“I like.” I nodded. “Lucy.....thanks for everything.”

“Not a problem.” Lucy actually shook my hand. “Just remember all the important shit, and you'll be good to go.” A bit of the smile managed to break through her scowling. “Lina....stay safe.”

“Pretty sure I won't have any problems in that regard.” Lina grinned at me, then at Lucy—that smile of hers damn near lit up the room.

“Good. Well, I'm out of here...tight schedule, shit to do...” I could tell that, despite her laying on the sarcasm, Lucy was more than happy for Lina, and she'd at least come around to accepting that Lina and I did indeed belong together. “You need anything else before I come back with the gear, call me...” She glanced at me over her shoulder, giving me one last fake-pissed off look. “Got it?”

“Got it.” I nodded. “And thanks.”

“....ehhh.” Lucy waved it off, but it didn't take a body language analyst to tell this was the kind of outcome she'd been hoping for with Lina all along. We both waved goodbye, which she reciprocated by flashing the peace sign before getting back in her car.

“Well,” I mused, my arms around Lina's waist, “it looks like this is the start of something awesome for the two of us.”

“Not just awesome,” Lina murmured. “Something epic.” She gave me a quick peck on the cheek. “Your brother won't mind if I, ah...”

“He barely does anything with the room anyway. I'll call him tonight, explain things—well, enough for him to not have to ask any questions—and tell him he can come by and pick up his shi......his stuff tomorrow.” I returned the favor for the quick kiss with one of my own. “After that—” The phone rang, prompting a groan from me, but Lina turned my head to focus on her. “It can wait,” she whispered. “I want you to plug me in again.”

I glanced at the cable—still plugged into the wall outlet. “....right. You want to open the port, or....”

Lina's glance downward, and that gorgeous smile—was all the hint I needed. Slowly, I pressed inwards with my finger, and the plug of artificial flesh popped out. Lina's eyes closed, and she drew in a sharp breath.

“.....are you sure you want to—”

“Yeah.” She nodded, grinning. “It didn't hurt, or anything...I just...I can't describe how it feels.”

I plugged in the cord—instantly, she stiffened again. “Charging Mode active.”

“....can you hear me?”

“Yes.” Slowly, robotically, she turned to regard me. “Would. You. Like. To. Do. More?”

My eyes went wide, as did the expected appendage below the belt. “.....I, ah....”

Even as her eyes glowed, a smile slowly spread across Lina's lips. “You. Can. Unplug. Me. Now....”

I took the plug out, slowly—and Lina's arms were instantly around my shoulders. “As fun as that was,” she whispered, “I think we can have a lot of fun with it later....I'm sure we can find something more important to do now.”

Which, of course, we did.

Stay tuned....

(As per usual, comments, compliments and constructive criticisms are anticipated and appreciated! :D )
Elvis Lives. Not in this timeline, but in quite a few others.
I am a traveler of both time and space, to be where I have been.

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Re: Lina, Part 2

Post by DollSpace » Fri Oct 04, 2019 6:52 am

I love it :) "It's shake'n'bake! And I helped!" *giggles* Very nicely done!

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Re: Lina, Part 2

Post by Baron » Fri Oct 04, 2019 9:49 pm

Kudos, Mijo!! Gold standard, yet again. :rockon:
This particular literary effort of yours strongly reminds me of fine Cognac - meant to be savored for maximum pleasure; goes down quite smooth indeed; and leaves a wonderful afterglow behind.

Eagerly looking forward to the next installments; keep up the EXCELLENT work!!!! :thumbsup: :mrgreen:
Assemble the ladies? I didn't know that they were broken......

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Re: Lina, Part 2

Post by Robo-Admirer » Sat Oct 05, 2019 2:40 am

Freaking awesome mate! Had me excited with each sentence!

I wonder what will come next

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