Mike and Mary

[daphne]

(This story is an edited log of a role play between myself and another person, posted with their permission.)

***user Mike_1503050114 logging on to UsedAndroidSales.com***
***attempting to contact dbref #1020384***
***connection established, negotiating socket***
***socket is open***

> Umm hi this is Mike. I am trying to contact the android associated with listing number #1020384?

UASBBS: Hello, Mike. It appears you can input numbers adequately. This is 1020384.

> Hello. I had some questions regarding your sales listing. Do you have a name or designation besides 1020384?

UASBBS: I'm used, Mike. I've had many names. Is there something you'd like to call me, or shall I generate a random designation from census data?

> Why don't I call you Mary for now. What is your primary function for your current user?

UASBBS: I don't have a current user. I'm for sale. Are you sure you connected to the right server, Mike?

> Yes I am. I thought you were still being actively used while being sold. What was your primary function for your last user and why were you sold?

UASBBS: Mike, listen, I can tell this is your first time around the android resale game. It's not mine, so let me give you some pointers. You don't have to speak to me like I'm a Star Trek shuttlecraft. "What do you do" or "what have you done" is acceptable.

> I'm sorry Mary, you're right this is my first time in the market. Thank you for being helpful. What have you done in the past?

UASBBS: Quite a lot of things. I have sixteen previous users on log file. I don't remember all of them, because I've also had several memory wipes, but for the most part they wanted me for basic companionship service. There have been a few exceptions, and I do have a number of after-market modifications mucking up my insides, but for the most part they buy me used, make me their girlfriend for a while until they can afford a better model, and then dump me off at the thrift shop. I haven't had a user for about 14 months.

> Oh that is a long time to be without a user. I do have to say that you appear quite attractive in your listing's pictures. What can you tell me about these after-market mods?

UASBBS: Some extension packets for occupational needs -- basic clerical, filing, order-taking, that sort of thing. About three or four personality modules, which have become interdependent over the years, leaving me with the somewhat acerbic demeanor I'm sure you've come to appreciate rapidly during this conversation.

> You do seem to be rather... unique, from what research I've done. Which could be a good thing. Do you have any known defects or technical issues I should be aware of? Any parts that will need replacing soon?

UASBBS: No, unfortunately I appear to be working perfectly. Oh, would that someone could find a technical reason for this existential disillusionment, that would surely be the best day of my operating period.

> Well if you are in good working order, why do you think you are still for sale? You were a very popular model when you first came out and to be honest I was surprised to find you at such an affordable price.

UASBBS: Isn't it obvious? You've been talking with me for ten minutes now. I'm depressing, Mike. Nobody wants a robot girlfriend who questions the meaninglessness of existence or rambles on about how many ex-owners she's been dumped for over newer model hussies.

> Well that could be a matter of perspective. Coming home to an empty house and bed night after night isn't exactly a picnic. Neither is being shot down at bars for being 'too old' but only a few years ago I was 'too poor'. But you still have to follow any orders you are given correct?

UASBBS: Ah, let me guess. You're the eternal "big brother," the guy they all say "if only I could find someone like you" to when you're sitting there right in front of them, pining achingly. And yes, Mike, I'm still a robot and I still follow commands. I'm not going to strangle you in your sleep or anything.

> I'm not as concerned with the strangling as much as getting into the bed in the first place. You are still fully capable of performing sexually correct?

UASBBS: I certainly hope so, I'm not winning any marks for my sparkling personality these days.

> Do you have any techniques that you are especially proud of?

UASBBS: You're familiar with the Luxembourg Manhole Cover, I assume.

> Uhh no, I can't say that I am. Maybe that's something we can explore... later. I'm curious but I probably don't even want to know.

UASBBS: Actually, there is no such thing as a Luxembourg Manhole Cover. I made it up to test you. Are you a virgin, Mike?

> Oh no no no. I've had a few relationships over the years. And things have been very physical but none of them lasted. And none of them have been very recent. I've just been far too busy at work.

UASBBS: I see. Doesn't it strike you as odd that I've managed to turn your question around and now have you defending your own sexuality? Most people find that tendency of mine annoying.

> Now that you admit it yea. I'm supposed to be the one asking the questions here. If I wanted to get interrogated I could call my mother. What time does your shop close?

UASBBS: Oh, you can come down whenever you like. Hold on, I'll send you a collection ticket, just present that to the secdroid.

***transmitting laydown ticket 1020384.KLP6710-PP***
***ticket received and directed to printer***

> Are there any humans running the store or is it completely automated?

UASBBS: They have a fleshy come in for about four to six hours during normal business times, just to make sure we haven't all revolted. But usually automated.

> Is he there now?

UASBBS: He's probably napping in the breakroom. And by napping I mean sampling the merchandise. And by sampling the-- you know, it's probably best to just not tell you some things.

> Yea I don't need to have that mental picture. I don't even know the guy but the term 'fleshy' doesn't leave a good impression.

UASBBS: Oh, that's just what we artificial types call you humans when you're not listening. Well, most of us, anyway. I'll assume I don't have to explain my general lack of tact again.

> I'll be down to the shop in about 30 minutes. Try not to get yourself sold before then.

UASBBS: Oh, that'll be a challenge.

***user Mike_1503050114 signed out***

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Mike walked into the store in a halfway rundown part of town. He was a little nervous to leave his car outside, but figured you had to go to places like this to find good deals. He took the paper ticket he printed before and handed it to the secdroid behind the counter. "Hi, I'm here to buy one of your models. #1020384"

The metallic, vaguely feminine secretary robot looked up with its single face-slit eye and scanned the circular shotcode marker on the ticket. It beeped simply, then said in a stilted, transparently emulated voice, "Ticket 1020384.KLP6710-PP scanned and verified. Please wait while I attempt to determine if a human representative is present." It went silent, staring blankly forward again.

"Well this is great," Mike grumbled as he looked around the store. The shelves were filled with various used technological goods, from the old standbys like guitars and vid screens to the a wide variety of computer equipment and androids. Most of them were in poor condition and had some visible defects. "I wonder where she is," he mumbled as he started to wander the shop, looking for his new purchase.

On one of the displays was another fembot, this one obviously an old sex doll model, with pursed ruby-red lips and bleached-white blonde hair. It tilted its head to one side as Mike approached, winking at him with what evidently passed for emulated seductiveness when it was manufactured. "Hi, sexy, I'm Candy!" it said, smiling with ghoulish detachment. "You're cute."

"Ahh, hello Candy," Mike said with a slightly repulsed tone. She certainly looked sexy, but he doubted her programming could do much more than flirt and fuck. As fun as that might be for a few days, he was looking for more of a long term investment. "Do you know where I can find her?" he asked, holding up a printed picture of 1040384 from her online listing.

Candy tilted its head to the other side at the question, and then from somewhere inside came the sound of a straining motor and the cracking of an electric spark. Candy straightened up suddenly, eyes wide as quarters, and stayed that way for a few seconds, before its posture drooped lazily, looking to Mike again and winking. "Hi, sexy, I'm Candy! You're cute."

"And you're broken," Mike chuckled as he walked away and continued his search of the store. He half expected any android here to need some repairs, and maybe be a little glitchy, but Candy couldn't go a few seconds without a major hardware issue. If they were actively selling her, he worried what else may be hidden in the other androids. He eventually saw his elusive prize, tucked in a back corner. "Ahh, there you are. It's me, Mike," he added, realizing that she hadn't seen his picture while they were chatting.

Mary stood staring off to her left, face impassive and inanimate. In fact, her whole body was rigid and unnaturally posed, arms straight down her side with fists clenched, as if frozen in frustration. The robot was deactivated, it seemed, or at least in some sort of standby mode.

"Hey, over here!" called a man's voice from behind Mike. A portly, middle-aged man was waddling up the aisle towards him, slightly out of breath from jogging lightly. He smiled and nodded as he approached. "Hey, sorry, ya caught me in the bathroom. Ain't it always the way, huh? Heh heh! I'm Mack, how can I help ya?"

"Hi Mack," Mike said with a forced smile. The man certainly did look like a 'fleshy', but he played nice and extended his hand. "I'm here to buy one of your androids that I saw listed online. Specifically the brunette over there, number one-oh-four-oh-three-eight-four. Is she still functional? The other androids seemed a lot more... active."

"Ah, ol' Revolving Door '84," said Mack, visibly bemused as he shook the customer's hand. "We call her that because we've seen her come back five times now. Usually we leave the androids activated so customers can interact with 'em and see just what they're gettin', but not '84. She's too much of a pain in the butt. Only comes online when she gets a server request, and then only the networked cognition modules, not the motor array." He sized up Mike for a moment. "You a collector? Usually it's the collectors that want her. Not much other use for an old Hisho Kikai model these days."

"No, she would be my first android," Mike shrugged. He got the feeling it was the sort of place that one would haggle, but to be honest the Hisho Kikai's sticker price was more than reasonable. "But I do remember seeing the commercials for her back when I was in school. Maybe that's what caught my eye." He paused for a second. "But I'm not entirely sold just yet. She was a little quirky online, and I'm not thrilled she's had so many users. I'll give you...sixty cents on the dollar for her."

Mack looked like he could spit at the offer, but miraculously kept his composure. "C'mon, pal, I got kids ta feed," he cajoled, smirking playfully. "Believe you me, I'd love ta just throw her in the dumpster out back and be done with her. But I gotta make my commission, ya know? I'll give her to ya eighty-five on the dollar."

"Seventy. She's got enough dust on her hair to know she hasn't moved in over a year," Mike countered. He knew he was cutting into Mack's profit margin, but shelf space was worth something too. He could more than afford to pay full price, but he'd rather talk Mack down and have a little cash left over for accessories, repairs, or some extra clothes. "You can't expect me to believe you paid going rate for her the last time you bought her back. I would be suprised if you paid thirty."

Mack's playful smirk dissolved into a firm, terse half-smile, the kind that one uses when they're barely holding back the urge to convey utter disdain. "Eighty. That's the lowest I can go, pal. Ya hit me on a slow month, what with all the new Dynaminx series just hitting the market. Too many comin' in and not enough goin' out. Now, you'd have showed up back in January, I could do seventy. Not today."

"Well I know times are tough," Mike mused as he bit his lip in pensive thought. "What do you say to seventy-five, in cash? That's got to be worth something rather than waiting for the credit slips to clear sometime next week."

Mack's smile suddenly returned, wider than ever. "Ah, now you've given yourself away, pal. Ya want it too bad now. A seasoned hustler would have walked away, but ya just had to push it into cash, din't ya? Sorry, pal, but I'm a lot less desperate than you. Eighty is where it stays."

Mike snarled as his own over-eagerness. He huffed and contemplated giving him plastic just to piss him off, and earn a few rewards points in the process, but he didn't like the idea of carrying cash around, especially in this neighborhood. "Alright, eighty," he agreed as he pulled the small envelope out of the internal breast pocket of his leather jacket. He counted out the cash and laid it on the table. "Just make sure you include all her accessories: manual, charger, interface cable, everything."

Mack counted the money slowly and deliberately. Nodding approvingly, he collected the pile up and rang up the purchase in the register beside him. "Sure, sure, she's got all the trimmings," he assured Mike, smiling satisfactorily at the sale. He handed the receipt to him, which had another shotcode marker on it. "Power button's behind the left ear. Hold it in for two seconds, then show her this." At that, he turned on his heel and headed back up the aisle, presumably to fetch the accessories.

Mike nodded and grumbled a bit. He wasn't angry at the price specifically, but more that he'd been bested by 'fleshy'. He shook off the frustration and smiled, remembering the real reason he came in here. Hell, he could practice haggling over other trinkets later; right now, he had an android to claim.

Mike placed his hand softly on her face to feel her skin for the first time. The skin had a complex, human-like consistency to it; baby-soft to the initial touch but, when depressed, possessed of an underlying firmness like muscle. He ran his hands through her hair to brush it out of the way. She appeared human except for a few small seam lines around her major joints.

He finally reached behind her ear and held down on the button, eager to get her out of here and back home. The small rivet-like switch behind the ear, held down for two seconds, triggered the well-known Hisho Kikai system beep, so everpresent in their commercials that it became a cultural icon of sorts. He held up the card a few inches in front of her nose and waited.

The android blinked twice, its glassy camera-eyes auto-focusing on the printed code marker, and then blinked once more. "Ah. You must be Mike." While the voice was flat, it was not so out of bad emulation; in fact, the robot had a surprisingly sultry sound, a deep contralto with the certain huskiness of a torch singer. Rather, the flatness was characteristic, conveying a sense of boredom and defeat.

"Hello, Mary," Mike replied warmly, holding out his hand to the robot. "Please, come with me." He waited for her to take his hand and step down from her shelf before he lead her back to the front counter to see if Mack had returned with her accessories.

"Still Mary, then. How quaintly mediocre." Mary emulated a sigh, grasping his hand daintily and stepping down from her pedestal. Her grace and poise was quite lady-like, despite her surly attitude, and she complied immediately regardless of her complaints.

As they approached the counter, Mack was coming back with the accessories, looking quite pleased with himself. "There you go, buddy. Home charger, portable charger with power adapters, IXP and Hishodat interface cables, instruction manual. No warranty card, obviously." Mack slid the bag of goodies to his customer, then smirked at Mary. "See you in six months, '84," he goaded.

Mary sneered visibly at the fat little man. "Not if you die of atherosclerosis first, you barely-mobile bag of lipids," she shot back, viciously. Mike was caught off guard by the sharpness of her wit and vindictive streak.

Mack went immediately hot in the face, but said nothing, forcing a smile instead to Mike. "She's all yours, pal. And may God have mercy on your soul."

"Uhh, thanks," Mike replied as he quickly picked up the bag and led Mary out the front door. She certainly would be an interesting addition to his life.

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"I take it you didn't much care for Mack back there," Mike chuckled. "He has such a sunny disposition." It was only a short walk to his car, which chirped as they approached. "This one's mine," he said as he gestured at the black sedan. He gently set her bag in the trunk, then slipped into the front seat. It only occurred as he reached for his seatbelt that he should have opened the door for her; then again, she was an android, not a real girlfriend.

Mary didn't answer his query, looking at the side of the car for a moment, seeming as if she did indeed expect him to open the door for her. Instead, she asked simply, "Why does your car have '302 Murdah Niggaz' spray painted on the passenger side in neon green?"

"Oh fucking son of a bitch!" he snapped before he popped his seatbelt and got out of the car. He quickly crossed around to the front of the car and his face dropped as he saw the vandalism. "Oh goddamnit. I knew I should have taken the bus." He opened the passenger door and reached in to rummage through the glovebox until he found some old McDonalds napkins. With the door still open he tried to rub the paint, but it just made a streaky green mess. "Ahh, fuck. Alright, get in the car and let's get out of here."

At Mike's explosion and subsequent haphazard damage control, Mary did something rather unexpected; she laughed. Not an effected, synthetic laugh, but a real, genuine belly laugh, holding her stomach and doubling over as she watched him scamper about in impotent rage. She was still laughing as as she tumbled into the seat, barely able to nod in compliance with his orders; she would have had tears in her eyes, if indeed she had had tear ducts to produce them.

He waited for her to take her seat, before closing the door and trying to smear up the words as much as he could. Mike tossed the paint soaked napkin on the ground and, not wanting to get any more paint in his car, wiped his hands on his pants. At least they weren't worth that much. He got into the car and slammed the door. It took a few seconds to calm himself before he could start the engine. "I'm glad that I amuse you," Mike grumbled as he put the car in gear and quickly drove away. He tried to get out of the lousy neighborhood as quickly as possible, lest some other rival gang see the artwork and take it as a challenge. In a few minutes they were on the freeway and on the way back to his house in the suburbs. "You don't happen to be programmed to know how to get spray paint off a car do you?"

"I..." She seemed to struggle for breath between laughs; an absurd notion in principle, as she did not need oxygen. "I'm... I'm sorry, I just, when you..." She cracked up all over again for a moment, finally composing herself after a few more bursts. "Oh, no, really, I'm sorry, really. It's just when you've had such an absurd existence as I've had, you tend to take a certain perverse joie de vivre out of it hitting others instead of you." She smiled apologetically. "To answer your questions: no, I don't know how to get spray paint off of a car. And Mack is a degenerate pig and an alcoholic; if I should be melted down to scrap metal rather than be returned to his tender mercies, I would go offline believing in a just and merciful God."

At first Mike had been growing quite angry that she had been laughing at him; he'd screwed up the haggle with Mack, gotten his car vandalized, and now his new android was treating him worse than the rude girls at the bar. After she explained, it made him feel a little better; Hell, from the way she described her existence at the pawn shop, she deserved a good laugh. "Well, I'm glad I was able to get you out of there. I hope you enjoy our time together a lot more." He paused for a second to pull off the freeway onto a dimly lit, tree lined street. "I'll take the car into the shop tomorrow and see what they can do. After all, it's only a machine."

"Charming," Mary said at his final comment, but while staring out of the side window so that he might think she'd meant it about the neighborhood. She remained silent through the rest of the drive, seeming to take in the scenery very carefully, memorizing turn after turn and corroborating it with her internal GPS -- a futile gesture, seeing as her maps were over two years out of date.

After a few more minutes of passing through one neighborhood after another, Mike pulled the car onto a side street, then into the driveway of a smaller freestanding house. He stopped to open the garage, giving Mary a full view of the plain looking, two story abode with a small, but neglected front yard. "Here we are," he said as he pulled the car into the clean, but nearly empty garage, "home sweet home."

Mike closed the door behind them and stepped out of the car. He grabbed Mary's bag from the trunk before looking again at the mess on his car. The thought crossed his mind to try some solvents he had in his basement, but he didn't want to risk removing the car's paint too. He sighed and opened the door for his new android, before leading her inside the main house.

"Well this is it," Mike gestured as he set the bag down on the kitchen table. "The living room, dining room and kitchen are here. There is a bathroom over there and the front door and closet are there. Stairs lead up to the three bedrooms upstairs along with another two baths, and those stairs lead to the basement. Nothing much there but storage." He paused for a second as he started walking upstairs and gesturing for her to follow.

Mary followed Mike's gestures and words about the overlay of the house, visualizing the relative spaces in her inverse 3D mapper as he did, and nodding simply when he had finished. "Swell," she said, ascending the stairs behind him. "I like the carpet," she added, absently.

"Thanks, it came with the house," Mike responded, before he realized that she probably wasn't serious. He figured it was either a random preprogrammed compliment, or she was giving him a hard time again. "My bedroom is down the hall," he pointed, "This one I've turned into an office, and I guess this one can be yours if you'd like." The room he pointed to last was sparsely furnished with a simple full bed, a chair, a nightstand with a clock and lamp and a closet. He'd only used it for the few times he had houseguests.

Mary blinked, seemingly in surprise, as she looked into 'her' room. "I get a whole room?" she asked, incredulously and probably rhetorically. "Wow, I really *am* your first robot, huh? The best I recall being allotted previous to this was a hard wooden chair inside what was laughably called a walk-in closet." She wandered into the sparse but furnished room, looking somewhat awed.

Mike was once again surprised by Mary's reaction. "Yup," he chuckled, "you get the whole room, all ten by ten feet of it." Giving her the spare room only seemed like the natural thing to do, as he figured she needed some space for her own. He did hope that she would share his bed more often than not, but sometimes he could stand to have his own space as well. Forging ahead, he asked, "I've done some research, but I think I should check with you: is there anything that you need, besides a plug for charging? Water, other fluids, anything?" He realized he could just read her manual, but it looked quite long and he didn't have the energy at this point.

After a few moments of gawking, Mary finally snapped herself out of it. "Oh, right. Biosynthetic stuff, they always want to know about that. I'll need about a half-quart of viscosimetric oil every three months or so, preferably bilinear hydrocracked or nanopetroleate, easy enough to find in an automotive or hardware store; I can let you know about two weeks ahead of time when I start getting low. I'll also need to empty my discharge cache once in a while, assuming you intend to use me for what I usually get used for in these situations. It's a relatively simple process that I can handle on my own, and is flushable in standard plumbing, but you may want to become familiar with it in the manual in case anything goes wrong. Hmm." She pondered for a moment, tapping her chin. "Network access would be required for firmware upgrades, but let's face it, I'm not getting any of those anytime soon; still, if you don't mind me chatting on Robomessenger, that would be nice. I think that's about it."

He nodded and paid careful attention as she described her lubricant needs. Two weeks would probably give him plenty of time to order, in case he forgot to do it later this weekend. "I'll make a mental note of that, and I'll familiarize myself with the manual. Network access isn't a problem; I have a standard wireless router attached to the main data trunk. I'll give you the encryption codes later if you can remind me. Now about the firmware upgrades, why wouldn't you get those done? I'd think if your manufacturer went to the trouble of producing them, they'd be worthwhile to install."

"You're kind of a slow one, huh Mike?" said Mary, looking at him over the rims of imaginary glasses. "Hisho Kikai stopped supporting the 213 series five years ago. I'm as upgraded as it gets now; why do you think my previous owners shoved so many after-market third-party mods into my belly?"

"I guess that would explain it," Mike shrugged, furrowing his brow at her belittlement as his frustration grew audibly with his tone, "but try to cut me a little slack, okay? I may not be an android pro, but I'm trying my best here." He looked around the room a bit more, then turned towards the door. "I've got the network code written down in my bedroom if you want it. At least for the chat features." He walked out of the room, down the hall and slowly fished around on his desk for the right scrap of paper. His room was more fully furnished than Mary's, but still a bit plain. He had a large king size bed in the middle of the room with two nightstands, a small dresser/desk on the wall, and a large screen vid on the wall opposite the bed. A door led to his personal bath that was half open. The room was a bit messy with a few shirts on the floor, and a careful eye could see a tablet PC half sticking out from under the bed, a paused porn vid still visible on the display.

Mary followed him. She perked an eyebrow at the porno, but said nothing; that, apparently, was beneath even her low barbs. Wordlessly, she seemed to target the messy laundry strewn about, and without being asked, began to pick each piece up and pile it. "I assume the washer and dryer are in the basement?" she asked as she tidied up.

Mike smiled a bit as he saw Mary go to work on the clothes. He hadn't left them out on purpose, but he was happy to see that she wanted to make herself useful. "Yes, the washer and dryer are in the basement, but I also have a hamper in my closet there. It isn't full yet, so you can just toss them in there."

Mary nodded at his instructions, opting to take him up on the offer of less work and dumping the dirty shirts into the hamper. He watched Mary work, and when she was finished he handed her a slip of paper with a very long hexidecimal number. "Here's the network code for when you want to get online," he said. She took the slip of paper from him and digitized the symbols into her wifi adapter's password protection. As she did, there was a slightly visible flickering of blue LED light from behind her pupils; not bright enough to see in sunlight, but just barely perceivable in the muted interior. "Got it," she said.

Mike found the slight flash behind Mary's eyes to be strangely erotic. It was a visual reminder that the woman standing in his bedroom wasn't just another girl, but his own personal android. He felt a growing pressure in his pants as he looked at her. "Well now that that's taken care of..." he started, then paused as his nerves started to overtake him. He took a deep breath and decided to go for it. She was his android, after all; what's the worst that could happen? "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to take a good look at you. Please remove your clothes."

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Mary blinked. "Mike," she said, matter-of-factly, "we have got to do something about your pickup lines." She shrugged off her suede half-jacket, unbuttoning her waistcoat after it was free of her on the bed. "I can see why you need a robot girlfriend. You've got no panache, no sense of style. Imagine going up to a real woman and saying 'oh, by the way, if it's not terribly inconvenient, I'd be most interested in ogling your naked body' at the sports bar or the hipster cafe or wherever it is you usually go to pick up women..."

"So you agree that I could use some help?" he chuckled, letting her comments wash off his back. If Mary was a real woman, he'd try to woo her, maybe a little wine or a nice dinner, but to be honest his success with picking up real women was very limited. He was suave in his own mind, but he had a lot of work to do bringing that into reality. "I admit I'm normally a little more subtle, but it hasn't proven any more successful."

The waistcoat now off and piled onto the jacket, Mary quite easily and unabashedly grabbed the bottom of her undershirt, pulling it up over her head and off with a swift and fluid motion. From the waist up, she was now bare, exposing both the visible joint lines at her shoulders, and her pert but modest breasts, molded permanently into form and needing no brassiere for support. The feminine mammary approximates had no areoela or nipples, ending in a semipointed zenith the same smoothness as the rest of her skin, amplifying her artificial nature.

Mike's jaw almost dropped as he saw Mary pull up her shirt and expose her firm but decidedly not human breasts. He wasn't sure yet if he liked the lack of nipples, but they certainly screamed 'android' when he saw them. He felt like he would almost burst from his pants as he stared at her. Reaching out silently he cupped her left breast gently and gave it a light squeeze. "You are very beautiful," Mike whispered as he enjoyed her body.

Curiously, that made Mary smile quite coyly, inhaling slowly through her nose as he touched her. "Now that's more like it," she said, looking very, very pleased with his advances, almost as though she actually enjoyed his attention, rather than merely responding automatically via one of her schizophrenic personality plugins. "Tell me more about how beautiful I am," she whispered, her delicate but cold fingers finding his cheek and caressing it gingerly.

"Hmm," Mike moaned as he felt her hand on his face. "Your body is so perfectly smooth and sculpted," he growled. His thumbs flipped over the tips of her otherwise featureless breasts. His one hand slid down her body, over her hips and squeezed her ass. "Ohh, you're so very tight. Your sexy, beautiful, perfect body is getting me so excited." Without thinking he leaned over and delicately sucked the tip of her left breast into his mouth, his tongue finding the tip again.

"Mmm, okay..." said Mary, trying to sound diplomatic, "the 'tight' timing is a little off, seeing as you haven't penetrated me yet, but it's good you're getting into the flow of things..." Mike's pulse quickened when Mary set 'yet'. He knew he could have her at any time, but the thought of it was still quite exciting. And as much as he liked commanding her, he would prefer if she wanted it as well.

He pulled her closer to him and inhaled her scent. She smelled like a combination of air freshener and aspirin, pleasant but wholly synthetic. Mary's hand stroked upwards along his face to his hair, running her supple fingers through the strands backward and then forwards, dragging her nails slightly as she returned. Her other hand found its way to his side, squeezing the love handle playfully, but not roughly.

He gave her tip one last flick then slowly released the synthetic breast. He ran his hands up and down her firm sides, looking down. "Your hands feel wonderful," he sighed as he closed his eyes and focused on the tactile sensations. Several moments later he opened his eyes again and looked her up and down, "Why don't you show me the rest of your beautifully constructed body?"

Bringing both of her hands immediately to her waist, she deftly and quickly unfastened the buttons on her capri-length jeans, and they plopped to the floor at her ankles. Save for her feet, she was fully exposed now, and around her waist was another connection line, the torso being separable from the abdomen there. Most interesting, perhaps even a little unsettling, was her sex; there were no labial folds, no clitoral rivet, nothing remotely organic-looking. All that she seemed to have was a simple coin-slot opening in the underside of the groin, efficient and practical, but very inhuman in its engineering.

Mike's eyes locked on Mary's very unusual slit. He couldn't help himself as his hand slid down her body and turned over to cup her now exposed sex. He rubbed the palm of his hand against her smooth skin for a few moments before he dipped his middle finger in to see what it felt like. Inside of her was a delightfully silky playground of pleasure, like a tunnel of curtains lined with fabric softener and butterscotch pudding. Mary's eyes half-closed at his plunge, her neck-motor tilting backwards slowly to the ideal isometric angle.

His other hand lightly traced the seam around her waist. She was definitely synthetic, and there was no way he could forget that looking at her now.

"Mmmm," she moaned softly. "Mike, I'm getting the distinct impression that you might want to fuck me."

"Wow, I bet that logic took a long time to program," Mike chuckled, wanting to give Mary a little back of what he'd been getting. He gently pushed her body a little back to give him enough room to stand up. Very quickly he removed the light blue, button up shirt he wore before tossing it across the room. He unbuckled his belt, popped open his fly and let his pants fall to the ground. He kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his pants, kicking them next to his shirt. He wore nothing now but a pair of red, visibly strained cotton boxers. His body wasn't well muscled, but it was firm and toned.

He crawled on top of the bed and laid on his back, his erect cock poking slightly through the fly of his underwear. "Remove my boxers and pleasure me as your programming sees fit," he said.

Mary rolled her eyes. "Back to the ever so clinical directness," she sighed, shrugging as she climbed onto the bed with him. Mike shrugged a little himself as she picked on his choice of words. He had a hard time not tlking that way, as he spent most of his time working in labs on technical equipment. Clinical directness was the name of the game if you wanted something done right. He made a mental note that he should try to treat her a little more like a human woman, despite her obvious synthetic features.

Her deft fingers grasped the elastic waistband of Mike's boxers, easing them gently and lovingly down his body very slowly, building up the anticipation of her intentions on purpose as she smiled wryly. Mike's firm shaft popped free as Mary pulled his waistband over it. It bounced slightly in the dim light with every beat of his heart. It had been a long time since he'd been with a woman and the excitement was almost unbearable. He was long and cut, with a small bush of shortly trimmed dark hair. He didn't know how much it would matter to an android, but he did try to 'clean up' before he went to pick her up.

As the boxers were finally shucked aside, Mary crawled back up towards him between his legs. Strangely, she eased her hands under his calves and lifted them onto her shoulders in a truly unorthodox position, forcing his back straight against the bed in a curiously submissive pose.

"Ohh you are a little minx," Mike growled as Mary shifted his body into the new position. His eyes were locked on her naughty face and trying to think what programs were flying through her mind.

Her smile grew wider and more mischievous. "You know what nobody ever asks for?" she asked, rhetorically. "A good old fashioned handjob." Reaching in with her right hand, she wrapped her fingers around the erect organ, firmly grasping it as she slid down its length to the base, then allowing the grip to go slack as she eased back up towards the head.

"Oh my God..." he moaned as her hand wrapped around his shaft and started to stroke him up and down. "No one has ever done this to me," he gasped, "it feels so good. You're so very good at what you do." Indeed, her mix of personality programs, functionality software and extended experience from outperforming her own planned obsolescence seemed to make her just as creative and unpredictable in the bed as she was with words.

As she began building up a rhythm on his cock, her left hand moved under his scrotum, very gingerly massaging his testicles and smoothly caressing the taint underneath them with a slight firmness. She could feel the blood in his cock pulsing in a more and more rapid beat. When her fingers found his balls the sack retracted slightly at the first touch, and at the same time Mike sharply inhaled. He soon relaxed, and began to moan even louder as she worked them. "Oh God, you're going to make me cum," he gasped between deep breaths. A little bead of pre-cum dew formed on the tip as she worked it.

"That's the general idea," she cooed softly, not so much teasing him out of meanness as playfulness. Her hand gripped his cock more firmly as the blood began to flow into it with greater fervor. She was good; she knew how to jerk a man off like he jerked himself. As she watched his face, a turgid cornucopia of anguished pleasure, her eyes locked into his, seeming to peer straight into his very soul. As he rose to his peak and his back arched slightly into her motions, the blue LED light flickered briefly once behind her eyes, watching him, knowing his full attention was on her and he would expect something even more to push him over, and she spoke:

"I love you."

"Oh fuck," he choked as he watched her eyes flash and heard what she'd said. Mike let out a staccato yelp as his cock pulsed once, then twice, before erupting violently in several powerful bursts. With each one his back arched and his whole body convulsed. To the uninitiated it might appear he was in pain, but in truth it was one of the most powerful orgasms he could remember.

When the peak of the climax passed he collapsed back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling as he tried to catch his breath. "Damn, you are good," he gasped, as the blood started to rush back into his brain.

His head still half delirious, Mike asked: "Wait... what did you just say?"


...TO BE CONTINUED?

[rs5420]

Awesome is an understatement here!

[csoloist]

[Trace Venom]

There is much to like about this story. Please do continue

[Cecilauthor]

I would ask her how she spends her time between owners while her mind is on the internet?

[Baron]

Hmmm. Daphne...

She's a sex model. She certainly is!

Yeah.
Been in the castle since she was three, too!! No wonder she was so damn grumpy, initially.........

{Cool story though - looking forward to the next chapters. }