Loading...The small car’s engine roared as it trundled down the city street, cars passing to either side, most honking. There was the occasional middle finger thrown as well, as if for good measure. The noise coming from under the hood would have been fine, even welcomed, had this particular vehicle not been electric. It should have been whisper quiet, unlike the petroleum-fueled pollution machines that had preceded it. But the last gasoline car had been scrap for at least fifty years.
And so the hunk of plastic and polymers, once the pride of Atlanta (cars were no longer made in Detroit, had not been for some time), nearly limped through traffic, attracting copious amounts of attention from the multitude of pedestrians it passed. Luckily for the driver, the side windows were tinted, keeping him anonymous behind the darkened glass. For Scott, anonymity was good, even without the thundering rattle trap.
After another two blocks of angry glares and obscene gestures, Scott finally arrived at his building. He turned into the entrance to the underground garage, the steering mechanism groaning in protest. “Come on, almost there,” he said, trying to coax just a few more feet from the beaten machine. As if in response, the electric motor developed a high-pitched whine, just as the front tires bumped over the slight bump just before the ramp leading down into the massive parking garage. “Great,” Scott said as he nodded. “That sounds expensive.”
As he brought the car to a stop at the automatic gate, Scott pressed the button to lower the driver’s-side window, but nothing happened. He released it, pressed again, and the glass started to slide down. It stopped half way. “Son of a…” Scott started to curse, but caught himself. There was no point in profanity, not really, and instead, he fished for his apartment keycard in the cluttered center console. He tossed gum wrappers, a straw, a mint from a restaurant that he was pretty sure had closed at least a year prior. He finally found the card, somehow buried beneath the detritus, despite the fact that he’d just put the card in there that morning. How it could have reached the bottom of the cubby was beyond reason, yet Scott still wasn’t surprised. That seemed to be the way of things.
He found that, by placing his arm through the partly-open window, bending his elbow, then forcing his shoulder almost out of place and pivoting his hips in the seat, he was able to get the keycard just close enough to the reader to still not be recognized. He instead resigned himself to opening the car door and reaching around its metal frame. A green light flashed, and the metal gate began to slide open. That, at least, worked. Probably because it wasn’t his.
With a little pressure to the accelerator, Scott was able to get the tiny vehicle just inside the gate before it stalled.
“You can’t be serious,” he muttered, sitting in the now-silent car. “No, really, you can’t be.” He pressed the “on” button, noticing that the small blue light just below it was out. Nothing happened. He pushed it again, holding it. The same nothing happened. He jabbed the button several times with his finger (sometimes you had to be persistent with these things, or they’ll think they’re in charge) and yet, the car would not turn on.
He sat for a second, contemplating his options, although none came. The car was in the way of the entrance, just inside the automatic gate, and would have to be moved before anyone else could get into the garage. Pushing it was Scott’s first thought, quickly dismissed though. He had the strength to move the little car, but he couldn’t do that and steer, not without power steering. It seemed very unlikely that he could get the motor to start. Scott knew next to nothing about cars, except that it was starting to look more and more like he’d need a new one. He glanced around the garage, both hoping to see someone, and dreading it. He could use the help, if he found someone willing, but could stand to be spared the embarrassment.
As his options dwindled, frustration started to set in. Before he realized what he was doing, Scott balled his fist and punched the steering wheel. The car let out a loud, unexpected beep that made him jump. “At least the horn works,” Scott muttered.
It took another minute or two of deliberation before he finally conceded that the car, as it was, would not be moving from its current location, and the sooner he accepted that, the sooner he could get inside and call a tow truck. Or a garbage truck, for that matter. Did they take cars? He thought not, was pretty sure they didn’t, actually. But still… it might be worth looking into. If nothing else, they’re probably be cheaper. He got out with this thought, slamming the door behind him.
“Hey! You just gunna leave that there, asshole?” a voice shouted from behind him. Scott turned to see another car, just outside the gate, its driver leaning from the lowered window, arm raised in a “what’s the matter with you?” gesture.
“It won’t start,” Scott said back, then shrugged. There didn’t seem to be any more to say on the matter, and so he turned and began walking away, toward the elevator doors that led up into the apartment building.
“Hey!” the man shouted again, anger edging his voice. “You can’t just leave that heap of shit in the way! How am I supposed to get in?”
Scott only half turned his head, and pointed straight ahead. “Entrance on the other side, on Eugene Street.” He was still walking, and looked forward again after he had finished talking. The driver of the other car shouted something back, but by that point, Scott had lost interest. He was pretty sure something was said about his mother, but wasn’t entirely sure just what. A minute later, the voice was cut off by the closing of elevator doors.
***
Scott lived on the one hundred and twenty first floor of the high-rise apartment building. It was so far up, in fact, that on certain rainy days, it was impossible to see anything from the apartment’s windows except for the dark, billowy clouds. Once, during an especially nasty storm in which the clouds hung lower than normal, Scott’s apartment was actually high enough to see the sunshine above them. He hadn’t even noticed that it was raining until he left for work.
This day, though, the weather was far more typical: light breeze, temperature not terribly unpleasant, although still on the warmer side. The sun wasn’t going down quite yet, although it had certainly passed its apex and was somewhere on the downward arc toward the horizon. This time of year it would wind up shining right into the wide living room window before dipping behind another building, preventing a view of the sunset. As Scott entered the apartment, a tiny arc of sun was just starting to show at the top of the window.
He dropped the keycard on the small table next to the door, then his wallet and the key fob to the car that he had just recently abandoned. A quick thought of the other, inconvenienced driver flittered across his mind, wondering if he had given up and gone around the building yet or not, then vanished.
Scott crossed the room (it wasn’t much of a trip) and settled into his favorite spot on the couch, relaxing contentedly as the cushions molded to his body. They had been designed to do just that, sensing pressure points and adjusting padding to compensate, although at this point it happened as much because of the age of the couch as anything else.
As soon as he had gotten comfortable, the phone rang. Scott knew who it was already, and was in no mood to answer. Plus, he’d just sat down, and felt no real need to accommodate anyone who would interrupt the most sacred time of the day: the first few minutes after coming home from a long day at the office.
It took five rings before the machine picked up. Just like the old answering systems of years gone by, the ones that used two mini tapes to first play a greeting, and then record the caller’s message, this one played the call as it was received. Scott recognized the voice immediately.
“Scott? This is Al, Al Harrison. The superintendent.” Al had a bad habit of always introducing himself in exactly that way, no matter how long he had known you. Scott had lived in this building for four (or was it five?) years now, and any time Al had to leave a message, he always included his title. At first, it seemed almost self-important; like Al needed you to know exactly who and what he was, a proclamation of his authority and position. After some time, though, Scott had begun to think that it was more as though Al couldn’t really quite remember if he’d told you who he was yet, and wanted to make sure.
“Hey,” Al continued, “I just got a call from a really pissed off guy saying that your car is parked just inside the Mason Street gate. Uh, you know you can’t really park there, right? Of course you know that. Look, do you think you could get it out of the way ASAP? You’d really be doing me a favor, man. Thanks.” There followed a series of muffled noises, then Al’s gruff voice saying “Oh come on hang up you mother…” before the line went dead. Scott couldn’t help but smile, just a little.
Al was a good guy, and Scott really didn’t want him in any kind of trouble, or really even inconvenienced if he could help it. He figured he’d have to call to have the car towed. A small laptop computer sat next to him on the couch. It took only a few minutes to find a local, cheap towing company. Repeating their number so he wouldn’t forget, he got up to get the phone.
***
“Sucks about your car, man” Scott’s companion was saying around a mouthful of pizza. “What are you gonna do without wheels? You can’t get to work or anything.”
“Public transportation,” Scott said back before biting into his own slice.
“Bummer,” the other man said.
They were sitting in Scott’s living room, on the same couch, eating a delivered pizza and slowly killing beers while watching Star Wars. Gregg, Scott’s company for the evening, had brought all three.
Scott and Gregg “went way back”, as Gregg liked to put it. They had been friends in high school, and despite their wildly separate careers, Scott a mildly successful software engineer and Gregg a… well Gregg didn’t exactly have a career, as such. He had jobs, sure. But nothing substantial. In fact, the pizza on which they were currently dining had come from the restaurant for which Gregg delivered. Still, even with their lives having taken different paths, and with few everyday things in common, the two had stayed fairly close, the friendship relying on shared interests, like sci-fi and zombie movies.
“Hey,” Gregg said just as Scott was getting up. “I thought, like, didn’t you say you had some money for a new car or something? I thought you said you’d saved some.”
Scott was heading to the kitchen, which was really just an open area to one side of the room, separated off by a high bar. “Huh? Oh. A little, I guess,” Scott answered as he reached the fridge and opened it. “I mean, I was starting to put together enough for a down payment.”
“Yeah,” Gregg agreed, now finishing the crust from his most recent slice. “Yeah that was it. I mean, you had to know this one was on the way out, right? You could like, hear it from a mile away. And wasn’t the window kind of wonky or something?”
“Something,” Scott said, retrieving two brown bottles from the fridge. “Beer?”
“Dude.”
Scott shut the refrigerator door with his foot, bringing the cold bottles back to the couch and handing one over. They were twist off tops, and he did his barehanded. Gregg used his shirt.
“I don’t know if I’ve saved enough yet,” Scott said, just after his first swig of the fresh brew. “I wasn’t expecting it to die right away, you know?”
Gregg looked incredulous. “Are you shittin’ me? How could you not know that thing was knocking on death’s door? I’m sorry, man, but a car isn’t supposed to sound like that. Hell, it’s not supposed to sound like anything. Don’t take offense at this or anything, but I gotta tell ya, I was kind of afraid to ride in it, myself.”
Scott’s lips thinned and his eyebrows lowered in an annoyed grimace. “It didn’t seem to stop you from bumming rides,”
“Hey,” Gregg shrugged, “a guy’s gotta take what he can get, right?”
“I never did understand why you wouldn’t drive your own car.”
“Because, man. It smells like pizza.”
A half hour later, Star Wars had ended, and a string of commercials followed the credits, each one trying to convince viewers that their product could somehow enhance, extend, enrich or otherwise improve their lives. These were mostly ignored, until a specific one came on.
“Oh, hey, here we go,” Gregg said, pointing to the TV while still holding his beer bottle. “There, this is what you should spend that money on, man.” By now, Gregg was well past tipsy, and a good ways into inebriated.
“What?” Scott asked, following the point but not recognizing the commercial.
“Just watch,” Gregg said, leaning forward.
Scott had heard of GenTek and their most prominent product. Word was that the androids they produced were the most lifelike available, and the commercial would have you believe just that. They sold androids for all sorts of domestic, industrial, manufacturing and administrative purposes. From what Scott could tell from the commercial, and from word of mouth, they really were very impressive. But he had no use for one.
“I don’t get it,” he said as the clip was ending. “Why do you think I would buy an android?”
“Dude, not one of the ones they were talking about then. You don’t need one of those. You need… you know…”
Scott shook his head, a little too fast at first (the beer was catching up to him as well), then more slowly. “No. I really don’t know. What are you talking about?”
“Come on, Scott. You know… It’s not like you’ve got a girlfriend or anything. It’s just you in this apartment. A man has needs, and all, and you don’t seem to have any luck with the ladies. Not the real ones anyway. Maybe it’s time you, you know… bought yourself one.”
Scott said nothing for a minute as he tried to think over a response. His brain was slowed by the alcohol, but was still able to mash together at least a few thoughts on the subject. For one, Gregg was right, at least partly. He, Scott, didn’t, in fact, have a girlfriend. His luck with women wasn’t great, but not really for the reasons that Gregg probably thought.
In truth, Scott had been successful with a few women, at least to the point of getting past the second or third date. He was a good-looking guy, tall, with a surprisingly muscular build, especially considering his profession. Truth be told, Scott had had a few real relationships that had progressed fairly far, but they always fell apart. He could never admit to his friend why, though.
“Bought myself one,” Scott repeated, his tone low, thoughtful.
“Sure, man. They don’t really advertise them on TV, but they make… uh… you know, other kinds of androids. They call them ‘companion bots’ I think. They say that they’re really uh, lifelike and stuff. Maybe you should check them out. You know, just to see…”
“We’ll see,” Scott said, having no intention of checking it out at all.
***
It was only the following day that Scott was on GenTek’s site, browsing through the “Companion” section. It offered a wide range of models just for domestic purposes. You could order a housekeeper, or a cook. There were drivers, bodyguards, even personal trainers and sports instructors. In addition, the appearance of the androids was entirely customizable. The buyer was free to specify body and face, hair and eye color. The possibilities seemed endless, and yet, nothing really matched what Scott was looking for.
That is, until he reached the end of the page, where a small, rather inconspicuous link waited. It was titled “FetishBots”. Scott clicked.
It took nearly two solid hours of customization, adjustments, tweaking and finalizing. But by the time he was done, he had created his perfect artificial woman. A few clicks and a credit card number later, and she was ordered.
***
GenTek guaranteed that your android, no matter which type, would be delivered to you, at your convenience and at no charge, on the fourth week after your purchase. You had the first three days to decide to cancel your order, if you so chose. After that, your order was locked in. It then took two and a half weeks of assembly and initial programming. Finally, you chose your delivery date some time during that last week. Scott, like many others, had picked that Friday.
He’d spent the first three days debating with himself, going back and forth between something just this side of panicking, and a surprising calm. Occasionally, there were quick, intense moments of pure excitement as he allowed himself to fully grasp the idea that, within no more than a couple of weeks, he would have the companion he’d always wanted, a girl he’d designed himself.
He counted the days, then the hours, then finally the minutes until it was too late to cancel the order. Once it had struck midnight on the third day, Scott finally, if only partially, relaxed.
He then spent the rest of his time over the next several days creatively distracting himself with little projects, like trying to find the best combination of walking and public transportation to get to his most needed spots around the city. Work wasn’t much trouble. His office building was in a busy, crowded downtown area with plenty of bus and subway stops. The grocery store and what few brick-and-mortar retail chains still existed were similarly positioned.
Other places, like his gym and his favorite burger place were not quite as accessible. In a way, he eventually thought, this might have been an advantage. He didn’t exactly need the burgers, and a little extra exercise on the way to and from the gym couldn’t hurt.
Once his routes were figured out, after he’d determined just how much earlier he needed to get up before work (only another twenty minutes, not bad), Scott again found himself with nothing to occupy his mind enough to distract him from the upcoming big day. He was having trouble concentrating at work, and had even had his supervisor politely, but firmly tell him to get his head in the game. He promised he would, and tried. He really did. It mostly worked.
***
Scott had requested the big day off, and his boss almost seemed eager for him to take it, apparently hoping that the extra rest would help Scott clear up whatever issues he was having. Scott even managed to duck out of work ten minutes early the day before, unnoticed. The anticipation, the build-up, it was all becoming too much. By that night, he was ready to pop. Sleep didn’t come until late into the night, and even then it was restless and not undisturbed.
There was no set time for the delivery, part of the reason that Scott had requested the entire day off. By noon he hadn’t eaten, showered, shaved, anything. He was watching TV when it occurred to him that he must look awful, still dressed in boxers and a robe, and finally decided that a shower might be in order. If nothing else, he didn’t exactly relish the idea of the delivery guy catching him in little more than his skivvies. The android would at least wait until he’d put on clothes.
Scott was just turning the shower faucet when there was a knock at the door.
Still in nothing but underwear and the faded blue robe, he headed to the front door, at least taking the time to cinch and tie the belt around his waist.
The delivery man was short, stout, with a developing beer gut and scruff of beard that probably hadn’t seen a razor in three or four days. He stood behind and to the side of what would best be described as a large crate that stood almost four feet tall, and three wide on each side. It was made of a damage-resistant plastic, instead of wood, and seemed to have latches instead of nails keeping it closed.
“You mister Scott… Anderson?” the delivery man asked, checking his electronic clipboard to confirm the name.
“Yes,” Scott said, nodding. “Yes that’s me.” His stomach was suddenly fluttering.
“Alright. Sign here,” the shorter man directed, handing the clipboard over. Scott signed using an attached electronic stylus, then handed it back.
“What you got in here, buddy?” the delivery man asked, “Rocks?”
It sounded like it was supposed to be a joke, so Scott continued as if it was. “Yeah, that’s exactly it. My grandmother left them to me, god rest her soul. Her dying wish was that they be left to someone who would appreciate them.”
He was met with a level, no bullshit look. “Huh. Alright then. Well, have a good day then.” The delivery man started off, then paused, calling back, “Enjoy your rocks.”
Scott, ignoring the departing man, immediately began looking the crate over, trying to figure out how he would get it into the apartment, and realizing that he hadn’t even asked for help with it. Then again, the shorter man had not only managed to get it up to the apartment, but hadn’t even used a dolly. A quick check on the back of the crate showed two small wheels at the bottom and a set of handles toward the top. It apparently was its own dolly.
With a little effort and some creative maneuvering, Scott got the large, heavy crate inside, shutting the door behind him as soon as possible. He gave it a quick thought, then locked the door, including the deadbolt, then went about the work of opening his package.
The crate was made like a clamshell, in that it seemed to have two more or less equal halves, one forming the back and bottom, the other half making up the front and top. There were several latches on either side, running down the seam between the two halves, and each was opened with a quick but determined application of force. He braced himself then, standing in front of the crate, hands on either side of the front part, ready to pull it up and off.
He breathed, chest rising and falling slowly, intentionally forcing the slower breath. “Alright, here we go,” Scott muttered as he pulled the front of the clamshell toward himself.
As he caught his first look at it, Scott had a sudden, and rather powerful sense of déjà vu. The android sitting inside the crate was familiar, remarkably so. The lines of her face, curve of her jaw, the shape of her lips. He knew this face.
Reality dawned on him, however, as he realized that he recognized it because he had designed it. He had spent over an hour on the face, perfecting it, tweaking, adjusting. It was bound to seem familiar. On further inspection, he recognized the rest of the android’s body as well. He’d selected every shape, every curve, even every minor freckle. It was perfect, an exact recreation of what he had selected. He had to take a minute.
After taking his minute and recovering, Scott was able to look a little more objectively. The android was just as he had ordered: dirty blonde hair, streaked with the occasional mild brunette lowlight. This had seemed to be an uncommon choice; most preferred either straight up blonde or brunette. Scott had leaned toward the middle, wanting the best of both if he could. The eyelids were closed, although he had no doubt that they’d perfectly created the exact shade of green he’d selected. The only way to be sure, though, would be to turn it on.
There were no obvious buttons, switches, controls, levers, keyholes or other forms of technology on the android’s body. It had been made to perfectly simulate a female body, and so what little technical interfaces existed were well-hidden. He was finding himself at a loss as to how to turn it on, when his eyes finally found the piece of paper sitting on the android’s lap. It read, in large, all-capital letters: “TO ACTIVATE YOUR NEW ANDROID, PRESS AND HOLD THE ACTIVATION BUTTON BEHIND THE LEFT EAR.” This was accompanied by a drawing of the back of an ear, with a cartoon finger pressing what appeared to be a tiny lump. Scott reached behind the left ear, pushing blonde hair out of his way, noticing just how real it felt.
Somewhere above the beginning of the earlobe, hidden behind the crescent of the ear, his fingertips found a bump, small enough that his first though was that he’d found a pimple. Of course, that wasn’t possible in synthetic flesh, and so he pressed gently, feeling the gentle click of a switch. He held his finger there for a few seconds, before letting it up.
There was no sound, not at first, not until the android took its first breath. The chest, naked, breasts firm and moderately large, rose once, fell, rose again, then dropped into a steady rhythm. Scott backed away, watching, fascinated and, he would later admit to himself, a little scared. He would come to think of this moment as the time that he brought a life into the world. Sure, it wasn’t a true birth, but it wasn’t too far off either.
After a few seconds, the android’s eyes fluttered open, and Scott was initially dismayed to discover that they were not green but were, in fact, a luminescent blue. This quickly faded, though, apparently just part of the startup. In no more than a minute, the initial glowing had stopped, and the color shifted to the shade he’d selected. He was just nodding to himself, accepting the color, when the eyes shifted suddenly, focused on him.
Scott jumped, slightly, and found that he had been tense the entire time, muscles wound up, ready for action if he called upon them. He tried to force himself to relax, and finally sat on the couch, forcing himself to relax.
The android didn’t take its eyes from him the entire time, even as it started to stand. Scott couldn’t help but watch, his eyes drawn to the immaculate, if artificial, female form that emerged from the crate.
It stood right at five foot six inches, with that blonde-and-brunette hair falling in soft curls that were stretched more into waves, ending three inches below the shoulders. Its figure was immaculate, almost inhumanly so, with high, firm breasts that were just on the larger side. Small, pink nipples poked nearly straight forward and began to harden, apparently reacting to the apartment’s cool air. Its stomach was flat and, while not muscular, was still toned and gave the impression of athleticism. The body was hairless, including on and around the thick outer lips of its vagina. Scott had intentionally ordered them that way, preferring the way that larger vulva hid the inner lips. Finally, the legs were long, shapely, again hinting at an athletic leaning, possibly a runner or even a dancer.
Scott was just taking the legs in, when it spoke.
“Hello,” it said, its voice a perfect copy of the one he’d selected when ordering. “Thank you for your purchase. I am a Mark Four Companion Bot, a sub-type of the Duchess line of household service androids, and equipped with fetish modifications.” There was a pause, and it was again looking at Scott, its face impassive. “Are you my owner?”
That threw Scott for a moment. He’d never owned anything like this, and the sudden realization that he did was a little… unsettling.
“Um… yes,” he finally pushed out of his vocal cords. “Yes, I suppose I am.”
“Very well,” the android replied, punctuating it with a quick, polite nod. “In what way shall I address you?”
“Pardon?” Scott asked. Again he was caught off guard by this.
“How shall I address you? By default, I will call you ‘sir’, but will address you by any name you would like.”
“Oh,” Scott said, nodding. “Um… well my name is Scott. I don’t need you… no, I don’t want you to call me ‘sir’, so ‘Scott’ is fine.”
The android nodded again. “Very well, Scott. What will my name be?”
Scott said nothing for a moment. This… this had not occurred to him at all, for some reason. He realized that he hadn’t considered the android’s name at all. “You um… you don’t have a name?”
“No, Scott. We do not come pre-programmed with names. This allows our owners to give us either a name, or a designation as needed. Would you like to name me?” There was something almost… sexual about that question, although Scott couldn’t exactly explain what. It didn’t seem as though it was intended in any way other than what was on its face, and yet he could swear the undertone was there. Maybe he was putting it there himself.
“To be honest,” he replied, rubbing his palm over his chin, “I hadn’t really thought about it. Like, not at all. I guess I just assumed you’d have a name.” He shrugged as he said this.
“While I do not have a name assigned, I am able to randomly choose one, if you would prefer.”
“Yeah,” Scott said, jumping at this option. “Yeah that would be good. Something, I don’t know, not too sexy sounding, like Veronica, and nothing slutty like Crystal. Just, you know, a nice name.”
The android nodded. It was the first non-verbal response that it had given. “This will take a moment,” it explained as its eyes grew distant, seeming to focus on a spot somewhere behind Scott and his couch. That lasted only a few seconds, though, and its eyes quickly refocused on him. “I have chosen a name, however if you do not like it, I will choose another.”
“OK, fine. What’ve you got?”
“I have chosen the name Molly. It matches the criteria you laid out, it is also a standard name without being overly common. Is it to your liking?”
The name instantly struck a chord in Scott’s mind. It was, in fact, very much to his liking, and he said so.
“Yes,” he agreed, nodding, “Yes I like that very much. You’ll be Molly.”
“Excellent,” Molly replied, and Scott could swear that there was just the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of its mouth. It was then that he realized that he’d been thinking of the android as an “it” the entire time. But with a name now, “it” wasn’t really appropriate anymore. It took only a little mental effort to get himself to lean toward thinking of Molly as a “she”.
“I am ready for the next part of the setup,” Molly continued. She had shifted her body weight slightly. It was an almost imperceptible change, and yet something even as small as that made her seem real. “How will I be used?” she asked, suddenly shattering the illusion that she was actually human.
“Um… I’m sorry?” Scott asked. It was a straight-forward question, especially from a machine that was built and programmed to, in some form or another, serve a human. He realized that, for a brief moment, he had forgotten that she was an android.
“How will I be used? What jobs or responsibilities will you assign to me? Considering I am a Companion Bot, I believe it is safe to assume that I will be fulfilling a sexual role for you. However, in addition to sex, I can be utilized for cleaning, cooking, household chores, shopping, household accounting…”
Scott held up a hand to stop her, and she trailed off. “I would like you to cook, and clean. And… yes, sex will be involved.”
He said this last hesitantly, almost embarrassed, but it didn’t seem to faze Molly at all. “I understand. As I have been equipped with several fetish modifications, I also believe that it is safe to assume that I will be expected to perform certain non-standard sex acts. Would you like to discuss the exact fetishes and acts you would like?” Again, the question was asked almost flatly, without any indication of judgement or even opinion. But why would there be? She was an android.
“Um… actually no, not at the moment. I think, um… well to be honest again, this is a little er… strange for me. I don’t want to start making it even stranger. Maybe we could discuss that later?”
“Of course, Scott,” Molly agreed, nodding once. “I am here for you, and so I want this to be as comfortable a process as possible. To that end, there is one more thing to set up. As a Companion Bot, I am equipped with an adaptable personality simulator. This means that, over time, if you would like, I can adjust and adapt a realistic personality that will mesh with your own, making our interactions more fluid. Would you like to activate that mode?”
It was this last feature that made GenTek’s Companion Bots the best-selling androids on the market. Beyond the near-perfect physical imitation of the human form, the Companion Bots could, over time, mold themselves into a perfect companion to their owner, in whatever type of relationship the owner wanted. This was also the feature that sealed the deal for Scott.
“Yes, absolutely. I want that feature turned on as soon as possible.”
“Of course. I can actually turn it on now, however, it will still take time for the personality to be generated, adapted and fine-tuned.”
“Right,” Scott said, nodding again. “Ok sure, about how long?”
“Typically,” Molly replied, her body weight having again shifted, so that now her hip was slightly cocked to the side, “initial creation and application are possible within about two weeks. Final adjustments can take a month or more.”
This wasn’t bad, not at all. So she’d be a little stilted for a couple of weeks, but then… then who knew? “Perfect, that’ll work fine. Definitely turn that on then.”
“It has already been done,” Molly announced. She turned back to the crate, bending slightly and lifting the seat on which she had been sitting, revealing a storage compartment beneath.
“One last thing before we are done. I will need to check any accessories that were shipped with me, and show you how my charging system works.” She started removing white boxes that, at first, appeared to be unmarked. On further inspection, though, Scott could see small barcode labels. Molly would look at each for a second, as if reading (and he supposed that that was exactly what she was doing) and then set it aside.
She stopped on one in particular, and turned back to Scott. “I see you have purchased the male genitalia package. Is this one of the fetishes you wish to explore with me?”
Scott could feel the blood flushing his cheeks and forehead. “I… um… well…” he stammered.
“There is no need to be embarrassed, Scott. I am programmed to be accepting and accommodating, as much as possible, to all sexual fetishes. And, actually, this specific one is not even that uncommon. It is the entire reason that my model was engineered with swappable genitalia.”
“I um… yeah I know. It’s just that… as a guy…” He trailed off.
“It is a common misconception that an attraction to a woman with a penis is a sign of homosexuality, which itself is nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed over. However, masculine pride still tends to dictate that such a fetish is in some way wrong. I can assure you, though, that, statistically, this particular kink is rather common.”
Scott said nothing, although he did nod and breathe deeply, letting it out slowly. “Yeah. That’s… I guess that’s a big part of why I um… bought you. It might be more common that most people think, but most people still think that it’s weird. I’ve never really met a real woman who was um… into it. Plus, the only way to do it with a real person would be with a guy who’s had a sex change, and that’s not really what I’m after, you know?” He wasn’t looking at her, but rather at a spot on the wall behind her, as she had done to him earlier. “If I wanted to fuck a guy, I would fuck a guy. But that isn’t what I want.”
Molly was nodding, trying to express her understanding. “A man who has had a sex change, and a woman who happens to have a penis are two different things, psychologically, if not physically. The fetishes are related, but not the same. I do understand that. I would be happy to fulfill that fantasy for you if you would like. In fact, I can swap parts out right now if you would like.”
“Ah, no. Not yet anyway. Like I said a little while ago, this is already kind of strange for me. I think I’d like to just, you know, get used to the idea of having you around first.”
“Of course, Scott,” she said politely, setting the white box down with the others. She did a quick inventory of the various packages, boxes and bottles, the latter containing synthetic versions of various fluids that she would need in order to properly function.
“Then, if you’d like, we can go over my charging function, and then we are done.”
“Yeah, that would be good,” Scott said, again looking back to her, wiping his palm down his face.
“Alright. Generally speaking, I can handle all charging needs by myself. I do not sleep, exactly, although I can simulate it if you would like. I also do not eat, at least not for energy. I can consume food, and again I will do so if you want me to. Instead, I have an internal battery which lasts up to four days, depending on activity. After that time, I have to recharge.” She held up a white elastic belt, then wrapped it around her waist, buckling it with a plastic clip just over her bellybutton.
There was a long cord, also white, which dangled from her left hip. She took it, and went to the nearest power outlet, plugging the cord in. “I can charge from a standard outlet. If fully drained, it will take just over five hours for my batteries to completely charge. Generally, I will charge myself once the battery reaches fifteen percent. However, in the event that I am unable to do so myself, you will need to fit the belt to me like this,” she pointed to the belt, “and then plug me in.”
Scott watched, and thought that perhaps she was being a little too thorough with this demonstration, but then came to the conclusion that it was, literally, vitally important to her. He didn’t interrupt.
“Power, plus certain fluids, are really all that I require to function. If you’d like, I can even take charge of ordering my consumable supplies.” She unbuckled the belt and returned it to its box. “For now, I am stocked on supplies for a month, and have a full charge. You could say that I am ready to go.”
It looked like the orientation, or meeting, or whatever this was, was over, and that was a good thing. Scott really had wanted that shower.
“Great,” he said, standing. The belt of his robe had come untied at some point, and it hung slightly open. “I was actually about to get into the shower just as… well just as you got here, I guess. So if you don’t mind I’m just going to head in,” he jerked a thumb toward his bedroom door, and the bathroom beyond. “I’ll only be a few minutes.”
He turned to leave, but Molly stopped him. “Scott,” she said, taking a step in his direction. “If you would like, I can accompany you.” Her tone was still matter-of-fact, only presenting options. Still, he found that he did indeed want the company, artificial as it may be.
“Alright,” he agreed, nodding. “Yeah that would be nice, actually.”
“Of course,” she said, following him into the bedroom.
***
She had asked him to set the water how he liked it, then placed her hand into the stream, memorizing the exact temperature and force of the stream. “If you would like, from now on I can start your shower for you,” she offered.
Scott had just hung his robe up on the hook behind the door, and stood only in his boxers. “That, uh, yeah I think that would be nice, thanks.” He was again a little self-conscious as he found her eyes on his body.
Truth be told, Scott had little to be self-conscious about. He was tall, just over six feet. Like Molly, his body was athletic, if not exactly muscular. He too looked if he could have been a runner, and in fact, he spent most of his gym time on a treadmill, watching projected videos of a run through the woods. Plus, she was an android, and he knew that she wouldn’t have judged him regardless of what his physical appearance was. Still, he felt like he was on display.
“If you are ready to get in, you should remove your boxers. Unless you prefer to bathe in them.”
Again, no judgement, no expectation. Just a statement.
“No,” Scott said, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of the underwear. “No I don’t bathe in them. I… ugh… OK.” With a quick movement, he pushed them down enough that they fell to the floor. With two steps, he was out of them, and totally nude.
Molly actually did, quickly, take in Scott’s body, not so much for sexual appraisal, but more just to familiarize herself with it. He stood a good half foot taller than she was, and, like her, had an athletic build. He was well-hung. Not enormous, but just to the longer side of average. It was the girth that really set his manhood apart.
What stood out most, however, was the apparent lack of hair on his body. On further inspection, however, it became apparent that he wasn’t actually hairless. Instead, most of Scott’s body hair was extremely light, and very fine, so that he seemed almost entirely smooth.
“You shave your pubic hair,” Molly observed, her eyes still focused at his waist.
“Oh, uh, yeah I do.” He unconsciously tried to cover his genitals with his hands. “Well, I try to, but I’m not all that good at it. You can probably tell that.”
Molly checked again, and was able to see tiny patches that he’d missed the last time he’d shaved. “If you would like, I can shave you,” she offered. “It could be another one of my jobs.”
“I think I’d like that,” Scott said without hesitation, a fact that surprised even himself. “Yeah, that would be good.”
“After the shower, then,” Molly agreed with another quick nod.
“Right.” Scott moved toward her, then into the shower stall, squeezing to the side so she had room to get in herself.
Molly closed the glass shower door behind her, then took the bar of soap, running it under the shower spray before beginning to lather it between her hands. She motioned for Scott to turn around, then slowly started running her hands over his broad back, letting the soap and water do their jobs.
She swirled her fingers over his skin, not missing an inch and even lightly massaging as she went. As she approached his waist, Scott expected her hands to divert back up, or around, but instead then continued lower, across his ass. He hadn’t been expecting that, and clenched reflexively, then relaxed. Molly stopped in response, but then continued once he was OK.
Her hands slid down his legs, one then the other, then back up, again over his ass cheeks and up his back. Once they reached his shoulders, she asked him to turn around.
Scott did, facing her. She didn’t look up at him, but instead concentrated on the job at hand, soaping his chest and neck, then lower. His stomach muscles fluttered nervously as her fingers tickled over them, and then even more in anticipation as they continued. He tried to control his breathing as the fingertips slipped over his pubic region, and he could feel the slight resistance of the stubble as it caught against her skin.
Agonizing seconds later, her hands cupped his balls and cock, slowly applying soap and washing probably longer than was strictly necessary. He began to harden.
But before it could go farther, Molly set the soap down and rinsed her hands in the spray. Scott was about to ask why she had stopped, when she picked up the bottle of shampoo and poured a glob into her hand. Without prompting, he leaned his head back under the showerhead, wetting his hair. Once done, Molly reached up, starting to massage the shampoo into his scalp.
Because of his height, in order to reach his entire head, she had to move closer, so that his growing erection pressed against her lower stomach. She felt warm, and real against his cock. Apparently, that organ at least, couldn’t tell the difference.
“I um…” Scott started, “I think I’m going to need you to… take care of that…”
“Of course, Scott,” Molly replied, her voice having taken on a softer, almost floaty tone. “But I should finish first.” He wasn’t sure if she was intentionally teasing him, or just following a set of instructions. Either way, Scott found himself deliciously frustrated.
It didn’t take much longer for the shower to be done. Molly rinsed his hair and body, then told him to get a towel and to lie on the bed. A minute after he did so, she came out of the bathroom, razor in hand.
“Put the towel down, then lie on it and spread your legs,” she instructed. She was still nude, her hair damp but at least towel-dry. Wet like it was, it had gone from a medium blonde with darker brunette streaks to an almost uniform brunette. Scott found that he approved of that color as well.
He did as instructed then, placing the towel in his spot, then lay down on it, spreading his legs, exposing himself to her. His cock was still erect, a flagpole rising from his body.
Molly crawled onto the bed, positioning herself between his legs, pushing them apart a little more to get a better angle. She inspected for a moment, tilting her head this way and that, noting all of the spots he’d missed last time, and also looking for any areas that might give her problems. Once satisfied, she pressed a tiny button on the handle of the razor, and a dull orange beam of light appeared where the blade would have been.
Very gently, even though this particular wavelength of laser light could not cut skin, Molly began to drag the razor across Scott’s skin. There was no need for shave gel or foam, no danger of nicks or razor burn. On top of that, the laser cut far closer than a bladed razor ever could, owing to the fact that it slightly singed the hair, rather than simply cutting. The remaining hair strand actually dissolved into the follicle slightly, so that no hair remained at the surface at all. When she was finished, Scott’s pubic region was as smooth as if he’d been waxed, and would stay that way for at least a couple of days.
“I believe you are done,” she announced as she took the last swipe, then checked again just to make sure. “Yes, done. Would you like to check?” He did, and reached down, carefully and thoughtfully examining the entire area, around the shaft, between it and his balls, even his scrotum itself. Everything was perfectly smooth.
“That’s really good,” he said approvingly. “But it did absolutely nothing for my erection.”
“Of course not,” Molly agreed, turning the laser off and setting the razor aside. “That is what my mouth is for.” Scott would later wonder if this was the beginning of the personality starting to assert itself, or if Companion Bots simply came with certain phrases to use during sex. In the end, he decided it made little difference.
Before he could react, Molly had lowered herself to his cock, very gently kissing the head, before swirling her tongue over and around it. Scott let out a little moan, then tried to prop himself up on the pillows so he could watch. That wound up proving too cumbersome under the circumstances, and he gave up, lying back and giving himself over to the pleasure of having someone else pay attention to his cock.
Molly’s lips parted then, and she took just the head into her mouth, gently sucking while her hand wrapped around the thick shaft. Scott’s erection firmed up at her touch, and his balls pulled up tight. He probably wouldn’t last long, but he was determined to enjoy this for a long as possible.
That was, until she pushed forward, suddenly taking almost half his length in one movement. He could feel the head pressing against her throat, and found his toes involuntarily curling. “Oh… god…” he muttered as she still pressed farther, inch by inch taking his hard cock into her mouth.
The head popped into her throat, and still she pushed more, until her nose touched his bare skin at the base of his shaft. She took it all with only a little effort, then slowly backed up, allowing him to come free of her mouth until the head popped out. With no hesitation, she lowered herself again, this time not stopping until she had completely engulfed him.
This time, once at the base, she began to suck hard, working throat muscles around the first few inches of him and swirling her tongue around the base. Scott was not going to make it much longer.
She pulled back again, this time stopping half way, then slid down again, starting a rhythm now. Once her nose touched him, she backed up. Once the head moved from her throat to the back of her mouth, she pressed forward. As she sped up, little moaning sounds came from somewhere in her chest, especially when he was halfway out of her.
It was the moans that finally did it. After only a few seconds of the incredible sounds, Scott’s balls clenched. His cock bucked and shot a thick streamer of cum into the back of Molly’s mouth. She swallowed and continued her motions, milking him for as much as he could give her, which was not a small amount.
Scott’s toes again curled and his eyes clenched shut as the orgasm took over. He lost count of how many times he actually came into Molly’s mouth and throat, not that he was really trying, and eventually lost all conscious thought, just for a second or two, right at the peak of orgasm.
Molly’s mouth rode him through the whole thing, stopping any movement, but just holding his shaft inside. She swallowed every drop he gave her, and once he was finished, licked him clean.
Scott’s cock was going flaccid, something unusual for him. Normally, he was good for at least two orgasms, occasionally three but that was kind of rare. That is, unless the first one was especially mind-blowing. If that happened, he was done. This was one of those times.
Molly could tell that he was finished, for a while anyway, and she moved from between his legs, sliding up until her head was on the pillow next to him. “Was that good, Scott? We hadn’t discussed any specifics on what you would like, or if there were any techniques you preferred, so I was forced to improvise…”
Scott shushed her. “Molly. That was… um… god that was great. I don’t think… no, I know. I’ve never had a blowjob like that.”
“I am glad you enjoyed it. I was surprised by the amount that you ejaculated. Is that normal for you?”
He wasn’t sure if this was an attempt at sexy pillow talk or not. If so, it needed work. A lot of work. “Um, I don’t know how much it was, so I guess I couldn’t really say.”
“Eight milliliters,” she replied, matter-of-factly. “That is almost twice the amount for the average male.”
“Oh,” Scott, replied, not expecting an answer so precise. “I don’t think it’s always that much, no. But I’ve been told that I cum a lot, so, I don’t know.”
“I can keep track,” Molly offered. “And then determine an average amount of ejaculate you produce. I can even note exactly what act we are doing at the time to try to work out which…”
“Um, no,” Scott cut her off, a little firmly. “That really won’t be necessary. We’ll just say that I cum a lot and that’s good enough.”
“Are you sure?” Molly began to protest. “It is really no extra work to determine…”
“Really, no it’s OK.”
Molly nodded, understanding. “You cum a lot, and that’s good enough.”
Neither of them said anything for several minutes, Scott looking up at the ceiling, Molly looking at him. She was observing, learning, constantly writing new rules to adapt herself to him, to become what he wanted, what he bought her for. It was now her mission to adjust her artificial personality to both be compatible with his, and also be as believable as possible. It would take time, but it would happen.
Scott shifted then, his body turning toward her. He was becoming erect again.
“So,” he asked, mouth quirking up slightly. “What else can you do?”