A Stay At Hotel Automata
A Stay At Hotel Automata
Based on characters and situations created by Uncom
Rick had heard of this particular five-star hotel in the city thanks to many positive reviews on websites like Trivago and Expedia. Having come to the city to visit the relatives of several lost high school friends, he was looking for a place where he could relax for a week well away from sobbing mothers and children, where he could be at peace while he took time to absorb what happened. While he had grown distant from the deceased over the couple of decades, he did remember happier times with those who fell victim to the latest social explosion that seemed to dominate news media his whole life.
Ever since the great viral outbreaks in the early part of the Third Millennium, social interactions between normal people had been forced to evolve in directions that caused as much emotional harm in places as it protected people's lives. The advance of various types of AI technology — spurred on by the sex industry around the turn of the millennium, naturally — saw one solution to dealing with social isolation rise: Humanoid androids and gynoids who could be programmed to serve as lovers, friends and caretakers who could fill the gap left behind by normal humans as people sought to distance themselves from each other to ensure that when the next version of COVID-19 cropped out of somewhere, people would survive and thrive.
Even more so, as demand forced prices down and pushed programming technology further, even a social recluse like him could seek out a wonderful gynoid to be his companion in the twilight of his years.
Such was out of his particular price range, though.
Living on government disability wasn't very lucrative, unfortunately.
At least his friends' relatives pitched in to ensure Rick would have a place to relax away from the oncoming funerals and wakes.
That was something at least...
"Here, sir. Let me help you."
Perking on hearing that friendly voice, Rick looked over his shoulder as a smiling blonde woman in what appeared to be a standard business suit came up to him from the direction of a restaurant. "Yes, that was something of a climb up that hill," he commented as she moved to slide in behind his motorized wheelchair, lifting the two travel bags off the cargo handles. "I should have checked ahead if you had this sort of thing, then hired a taxi rather than use public transit to get here."
She gave him a sympathetic smile as she easily handled the bags, both of which were quite heavy. Her grey eyes were under reading glasses, though he was quick to see they weren't corrective devices. Her uniform — the name tag over her breast pocket had the hotel's logo stylistically added on one side, the name itself read ANNE — was too racy for a proper businesswoman, which definitely hinted that she was one of this particular location's considerable staff of gynoid workers.
That had attracted Rick to this location.
Dealing with social distancing in a hotel with organic staff...!
"Well, lesson learned if there's a next time," he commented as he guided the chair up the handicapped entrance to the main doors, Anne — no doubt, one of the hotel's team of concierge staff — keeping up with him easily. "I'm just visiting to be with relatives of friends who died in that last big riot on the coast." As her look instantly shifted to sympathy, he shrugged. "Doubt I'll ever come back here in the future — not on my current income — but your establishment has earned a tonne of good press on the Net, so I was happy to select it as my place away from the funerals and wakes for the rest of the week."
She nodded in understanding. "You must be Mr. Thomas then," she affirmed as she opened the doors for him to wheel through. "We've been expecting you, sir. Your room's all ready. Single bed with full accessibility." Her eyes flicked down to his right leg, which ended in a prosthetic; he had lost that limb due to type II diabetes a decade before. "You should have no issues."
"And you just demonstrated why I chose this location," he quipped.
She giggled as they made their way to the front desk, currently manned by a lovely dark-skinned woman with bowl-cut black hair and dark brown eyes. Unlike Anne, she was dressed in a very racy black-and-white vest over a very short form-fitting black skirt, thigh-highs covering very shapely legs. Noting the uniform of the desk clerk — her tag read TAMARA — Rick's eyes arched. "Some issues with clothing?" he absently asked.
"The manager prefers to save as much money as possible, so such frivolities simply aren't seen as necessary," Tamara declared as she gazed directly at Anne, both their eyes flashing. "Welcome, Mr. Thomas. We've been expecting you," she announced, now all business. "Your room's been paid for, covering the next week. Meals are included; the menu will be on the desk. Feel free to order anytime. Snacks and drinks are available in the room, both hot and cold."
"Angela!" Anne called out.
Footfalls heralded the approach of one of the maids. Looking like a brunette version of Anne with brown eyes, her uniform was a white-and-black fetish-like affair that showed off LOTS of tantalizing skin underneath; the skirt was not even crotch-length and opaque, she had on thong panties underneath — the crotch itself was deftly covered by a black petticoat pocket, fortunately — and her considerable breasts seemed to threaten to spill out of her black vest top; the demi-cape she wore over her shoulders wouldn't come anywhere close to allowing her a chance to try to be modest.
"Yes, Anne?" Angela asked.
"This is Mr. Thomas. He'll be staying in Room 49," Tamara announced.
A polite nod twitched the maid's head as the concierge handed over the bags before she turned, offering her hand. "Please feel free to call upon any of us if you need assistance, Mr. Thomas."
"I'll do that, Anne," he vowed as he took her hand, then brought it over to allow him to give her a courtly kiss,
He didn't notice all three gynoids jolting as their eyes went wide on such an odd greeting...
"What was the meaning of your kissing Anne's hand?"
Rick blinked as he followed Angela down a hallway on the main floor towards the end of one wing of the hotel complex. "Before I answer that, can I ask a question in return?" At the maid's automatic nod, he sighed. "You were an intimate companion gynoid before you came to work here, weren't you?"
A curious look crossed Angela's face as they came to their destination. "I've never heard a sexbot be called that in public before outside a laboratory or a construction facility," she confessed as they stopped before the door to Room 49, her white-gloved hand touching the security pad by the doorway to unlock the suite.
"Well, I'm rather old fashioned and polite that way," he noted as she waved him in. "That was a form of formal greetings back in the old days before social distancing became the vogue worldwide and people such as yourself became popular. Over a century ago, it was seen as the proper way to greet a lady. Just because Anne is a gynoid doesn't mean I shouldn't be polite to her."
The maid hummed as she came in after him, then moved to place the bags on the single queen-sized bed before she unzipped one to unpack. "I never encountered that sort of thing when I served in the brothel with the others before my friends and I — Tamara was one of them — were replaced and made surplus," she explained as he moved his chair over so he could scan the menu. "Then again, I was never required to research cultural history. I was a..." Here, she smiled as she gazed on him, her eyes twinkling as she switched to his particular turn of phrase. "An intimate companion android."
"At least you're still active and 'alive' in your own way, as are the others," he noted. "That Oriental girl dressed like you who came down the elevator before we boarded it. Same group?"
"Tara? Yes, she was," she affirmed. "Is there anything you'd want for supper?"
"I'd like the chicken-and-shrimp poutine with the five cheese mixed blend," he declared as he gave her a hopeful look. "Nothing to drink, please. I'm sure your fridge is stocked up..."
A knock echoed from the doorway. "Excuse me," Angela stated as she walked over to open the door, then she stepped back as a woman in a white sleeveless turtleneck sweater and a dark skirt came in. Appearing to be the maid's older sister complete with glasses, she styled her dark hair in a bun at the back of her head. She also had a friendly smile on her face that was too perfect in its own way. "Good evening, Susan," the maid declared. "I'm just getting Mr. Thomas settled in for the night."
"I can see that, Angela. Please continue," the newcomer noted as she walked over, offering her hand.
Susan was also quick to stiffen as Rick greeted her as he did the concierge earlier. "A delight to meet you," he noted. "It's odd for the hotel manager to come down and look in on a single customer."
Surprise crossed her face as a noticeable blush slowly appeared on her cheeks. "Um...given the expense that went to ensure you enjoyed a comfortable stay with us, Mr. Thomas, it was only being polite," Susan declared as she absently stroked the hand he kissed with her other as she added, "Even if I'm personally linked to the hotel's security networks to ensure all is well."
"Well, it's more than appreciated, Susan," he noted. "The reviews of this particular hotel for the last year or so I read before making my decision often credits you personally as the main factor in making guests' stay here quite comfortable even for the overnighters." As her blush deepened at that comment, he then felt a yawn escape him. "Damn! Travel lag..."
"Do you still wish supper, Mr. Thomas?" Angela wondered.
"Please! It might keep me awake while I catch up on messages."
"I'll leave you to your supper then," Susan noted as she turned to leave. "If there are issues, please ask any of us for assistance."
With that, the manager quickly retreated. He hummed as the maid continued to unpack his bags. "Is she alright, Angela?" he then asked. "I know she was shown publicly as the wife of the president of Uncomsys before she was exposed as a gynoid due to that issue with that one hacker that got into all your programming like he did, but she didn't seem all that together."
A reassuring smile answered him. "She performs her functions perfectly as the manager, Mr. Thomas," Angela assured him. "While we haven't been in regular contact with technicians from Uncomsys since the trial, there has been no issues that came to potentially harm our guests. In effect, what happened when our programming supervisor was caught hacking into our basic programming ultimately drove Susan to perform her functions even better than before."
A hum escaped him...
Soon enough, dinner was brought to the suite by one of the cooks. Unlike Angela and other staff he had seen to date, Crystal wasn't dressed in fetish wear; even if she appeared quite young for a "chef", she didn't display any skin beyond which was practical. After thanking her for the delivery, the maid moved to serve everything before she prepared a cola with ice; as Rick was allergic to alcohol, there would be no beer or wine served. Enjoying the mix of chicken, shrimp, french fries and five separate types of cheese, he scanned his laptop to get local transit information for when he needed to be at the first funeral, which was thankfully late the following morning; this time, he would use a taxi.
"Is there anything else you need from me, Mr. Thomas?" she then asked.
He gave her a smile. "Just to call me 'Rick' please," he stated. "I hear 'Mr. Thomas' and I'm looking around for a father I never knew." At her curious look, he added, "He divorced my mother when I was a baby. She raised me almost all alone save for the help of her own mother."
"I'm sorry to hear that, Rick," she noted before she turned to walk out, "Well, I have to recharge and prepare for night duties. Please excuse me..."
She caught herself as he offered his hand, then smiled as she removed her glove. After a courtly kiss, Angela felt her own cheeks heat. "Very enjoyable," she commented before she bowed politely to him, then she moved to walk out of the room.
His eyebrow arched, then he began tapping on his laptop, moving to scan various social media lines concerning the hotel's past interaction with a rather TOO adventurous programming supervisor...
Having turned in late that evening, Rick nodded off right away; he always had issues with sleeping and took pills to help him enjoy a good night's rest with all his other medication. A good dream fell over him, where he found himself actually marrying Angela of all people, then they went to their honeymoon.
His eyes fluttered open as a very warm feeling encompassed his manhood — which hadn't got any sort of realistic exercise other than masturbation for quite some time — before the VERY comfortable feeling of warm and definitely FEMALE bodies sans any clothes surged up from his legs. As his hand reached for the night light to turn it on, he then found a beaming concierge kneeling down beside the bed, a look of pure, raw yearning on her face. "Good morning, Rick," she said before leaning in.
Naturally, his reply was cut off by quite wet lips now caressing his own while Anne moved to slide her aroused breasts all over his naked chest; he normally slept in boxers. As a hand swept the quilt that had been covering him away to reveal totally nude Angela straddling his lower left leg, the equally nude Anne slid herself deftly onto his lower abdomen, her hands rubbing his rather hairy chest. "Is he ready, Angela?" the blonde sensually asked as he felt his own mind start to haze from the HEAVY input pouring into his mind from his groin.
"Oh, he'll be ready soon, Anne," the brunette maid meowed as she reached up with one hand to gently play with the concierge's own opening, making her gasp. "Good! You're lubricated enough..."
His protest effectively fell on deft ears as the gynoid on his stomach moved to shift herself down. Thinking briefly that it was good that modern materials made sure that someone like Anne or Angela would weigh actually less than an organic woman their size, Rick then hissed as he felt a fingertip vibrate at the right point to make his cock surge to a level he hadn't experienced in years. As it dawned on him that somehow, the former sexbot still retained her full load of intimacy programming, Anne then gasped as she felt his wet tip touch the folds of her labia. "Ooh...such a BIG man...!" the blonde meowed as she shifted slightly before deftly impaling herself right on his joy machine.
Rick croaked at the warmth of her love box overcame him again before he jolted as Angela shifted off his leg to move to lay beside him. While Anne's internal systems began a rhythmic shifting of the musculature in her vagina to keep him stimulated without he having to move, the maid gave him a wet kiss of her own. "Just relax, Rick," she then meowed. "Let Anne and I do everything..."
As her lips once more devoured his, Rick shuddered as he wondered what the heck he did to cause THIS sort of reaction...
In room 49, Rick's eyes opened as he quickly sensed two very warm and nude female bodies gently entwined with his own. With both gynoids' hands gently pushing against the back of his throat to ensure he wouldn't accidentally choke on his tongue in a bout of sleep apnea, he was quite comfortable...not to mention somewhat erect, which caught him off guard; it had been YEARS since he had enjoyed a bout of "morning wood".
While both Anne and Angela were breathing normally in simulated sleep — such was done to help regulate internal heat at all times save when they were totally shut down for maintenance or recharging — the fact that they had done THAT with him not a few hours early had left the man simply speechless. He HAD read over the small guide book to the hotel sent to him with his reservation notices. He also had read over the reviews, none of which ever indicated that the staff would do something like actually have sex with a guest; even if most were provocatively dressed in fetish wear of one sort or another, girls like Angela behaved with perfect polite professionalism. So why...?
He looked left to see a smiling Anne there gazing at him. "Um...not that I don't mind what you two did..." Here, a wry smile crossed his face even if he gave her an amused look. "Well, no one realistically would ever mind that, I guess...but what on Earth made you two do what you did last night?"
"You activated my intimacy programming with that kiss," she answered in a matter of fact manner.
Grateful that AIs would always react to straight questions of that nature, he then gave her a worried look. "Shouldn't that have been taken out of you when you were recommissioned to work here, Anne?"
"It was reinstalled by our former programming supervisor."
Rick blinked again. "And it wasn't taken out when he was jailed?"
"No, it was not."
Both instantly looked at Angela, whose voice was now stuttering in a quite harsh lock-step. Instantly, the concierge was on her feet, walking around the bed to place herself behind the maid, she shifting the quilt to insert her finger into the other woman's butt. That made Angela's body freeze as her eyes glowed a faint red, matching that from Anne. "Battery status?" the latter asked.
"Pri-ma-ry...bat-te-ry...charge...six...per-cent..." the former declared.
"Deactivate primary systems."
Angela then went totally limp against Rick's body. As Anne turned to locate the maid's clothes — they were folded on a guest chair nearby, as were her own — Rick then sighed. "Once you get yourself and Angela dressed, I'll help you get her to wherever she recharges herself, Anne."
Surprise crossed the blonde's face. "That's not necessary, Rick..."
"Well, if a simple courtly kiss could cause a mini-orgy, I feel responsible."
That made Anne instantly blush at his genuine show of concern...