John sat in his car, staring at the massive gate in front of him and wondering under what impossible circumstance it might open. For his entire life in the Community it had remained shut, just as much a barrier to the world beyond as the concrete wall itself. And he found himself wondering once again why nobody in the Community seemed to want to see what was on the other side, just once, even it was only desert.
He looked back to his hand at the tiny glass bottle half-full of silvery liquid in his hand, the hand-written note still attached by a string. On it, the simple instruction of ‘Drink me.’ When he had discovered it that morning on his desk, he had immediately panicked. Who had put it there? Amy, his manager? One of the coworkers he almost never saw?
He had stepped into Amy's office to find her at her desk, staring at the terminal screen. Though he had worked under her for ten years, he knew nothing about her beyond her first name and the fact she was gorgeous. Her auburn hair always pulled into an ornate bun, her large grey-green eyes set amidst a scattering of freckles, an errant lock of loose hair that made her beauty natural and effortless. But his affection, his lust, his interest in her had faded over the years. She never spoke about herself or asked about what John did outside the office, never reacted to his timid attempts at flirting, had no pictures of friends or pets in her spartan office – she just sat there, day in, day out, staring at her screen, more of a prop than a person.
“Yes, John?” she asked, not looking up.
“Hi, Amy – did you… this morning, on my desk, there was…” his voice trailed off.
He had doubted then it had been her after all, wondering why he would even consider it might be. And if hadn’t been her, he wasn’t sure exactly how she would respond to the news of the mysterious bottle. “I… think I’m coming down with something, I might take the day off if that’s alright.”
“Of course, John – get some rest,” she said, her eyes fixed forward. He had always wondered what she did in her office, sitting at her terminal for eight hours a day, taking a lunch break of exactly thirty minutes. (He had even timed her: from the moment her ass left her chair to when she was back at her desk, thirty minutes on the dot, every time.)
Once he had asked what she did for the Company, and she simply said that she was his manager. He didn’t see how ‘managing’ him could take any time, though. For the entire ten years of employment at the Company, he sat quietly at his desk, checking reams of data for ‘anomalies’. Amy wouldn’t even tell him what the data represented.
“Isn’t this a job for a computer?” he had asked Amy when she first explained what he would be doing for the Company.
“No,” her voice definitive. “This is a job that can only be done by a human being.”
And so he stared at printouts of data. He soon noticed patterns, and came to realize patterns were all that it consisted of. Bland, repetitive, mind-numbing, soul-crushing patterns that might on some rare occasion change unpredictably, but only to fall back into some other routine.
Once, two years ago, he had seen something that struck him as ‘unusual’, though he couldn’t explain why. When he brought it to Amy’s attention, she had told him the Company would, “investigate his findings.”
The day after, Amy informed him that the Company was very pleased and wanted to know if there was anything they could provide for as a way to thank him. “Anything at all,” she had said, but his mind was blank. They moved him to a larger place, gave him a new car, a wardrobe of tailored suits. He later decided he just wanted to know what it was he had seen in the data, why it had been important.
“You’ve helped keep the Community safe,” is all that Amy would tell him.
After he left the office he had come straight here, to the Community’s gate where he powered down his car and sat, debating whether or not to follow the note’s plain instruction. He desperately wanted to know who had put it on his desk, who had broken the routine of his life that had remained unchanged for a decade. He pulled loose the tiny cork, deciding this was the best way to find out.
The taste was terrible, bitter, and he had to force himself to swallow it. It lingered horribly on his tongue, and he nearly retched while rooting in his car for something to wash the flavor away.
He heard the whine of a ground-effect engine behind him, and turned to see an enforcement officer in her crisp uniform of drab grey stepping off her cycle. He knew he was within his right to be here, but his stomach twisted when he tried to come up with some explanation to her inevitable question of why he was here; he couldn’t even explain it to himself.
A black glove rapped on his window, and he lowered it, trying to manage a casual smile. She crouched to eye level, her face obscured by the cap of her uniform and the dark sunglasses she wore despite the cloudy day. After peering around the inside of his car, she looked at him and asked, just as he had predicted, “Is there a reason you’re here?”
“No, I… I was actually just leaving.”
She glanced searchingly around his car once again before looking at him again. He suddenly noticed this enforcer was remarkably well endowed, and wondered how the well-defined mounds of her breasts beneath her uniform had escaped his attention before.
“You don’t need to go just yet, sir. In fact, if you wouldn’t mind some company…”
He didn’t know why this enforcer was offering to spend time with him, but the prospect terrified him. “If I’m free to go, I really just need to get home.”
“Sure - mind if I tag along?”
“Sorry… feeling sick… just need to rest,” he punched home as his destination and his car pulled away. He turned to see the enforcer watching him, unmoving, until his car turned a corner on its way home. Deciding he first needed something to get rid of the terrible taste that remained in his mouth, he updated his destination to the café near his office.
The café was abandoned save for the barista, a diminutive, dark haired girl named Brenda who seemed short on sleep no matter what time he caught her there. “Hi, John,” she called in her tired voice as he made his way to the counter. “You’re back early.”
“Left work early, not feeling well.”
“Sorry to hear that,” she said with no trace of actual sympathy. “You want the usual?”
“I, uhh… I’m not sure,” he muttered, confused that he had to reference the café’s simple menu.
Brenda gave him a surprisingly intense look and eventually said, “You know, if you’re looking for something that’s not on the menu, I might be able to help you out…”He had never thought of Brenda as particularly busty, but as she leaned forward on the counter she provided him with a view down her shirt to a pair of surprisingly plump breasts.
What was with him? It had to be that drink… some kind of aphrodisiac that would only allow his mind to focus on one thing. He realized he had been staring and quickly looked up at Brenda’s brown eyes, his face burning with embarrassment. She was gracious enough to smile as if nothing had happened.
“Sorry, I really should just get home,” he said, and her face turned to disappointment.
“Sorry!” he apologized again, backing out of the door and jumping into his car. He found himself hitting the destination of his office and the car sped away as Brenda rushed out of the café after him. God, what an ass he had made of himself…
He made the decision he would confront Amy with the bottle. It was probably someone fucking with him, someone who was trying to provoke a scene between him and his manager. But if it had been Amy herself who had placed it on his desk… his heart hammered at the prospect.
John burst into her office, not trusting himself to say anything, simply planting the vial on her desk. Her head turned from the terminal screen and she picked it up in her perfectly manicured hand. “What’s this?” she asked, sniffing it daintily.
It hadn’t been her after all. His heart sank. “I found it on my desk this morning.”
She sniffed it once more, then her eyes went wide. “Who gave this to you?” she asked, pressing the button for her intercom
“I don’t know… Do you know what it is?”
“Security?” she asked, and John began to fidget nervously. What was going on?
“This is security,” answered the intercom.
After a pause, Amy rose from her chair and said in a strangely nonchalant voice, “Never mind.” She clicked off the intercom before they could respond and began walking to her door.
“Amy?” John asked as she silently walked past, and then stared in rapt fascination. Amy’s suits had always been expertly tailored, but he saw now that her business slacks were far too tight across her shapely backside, the outline of her v-shaped panties emblazoned through the fabric. He was hypnotized as she walked with an uncharacteristic sway to her hips. Arriving at the door to her office, she closed it and turned back to face him. He saw her blouse was now straining against her bust, at least full cup larger than it had been before. Was this some sort of hallucination brought on by whatever was in that vial?
Amy stepped toward him, placing her arms over his shoulders, her hands clasping behind his neck. “John, when you detected that anomaly two years past, I told you that you could have anything as a reward; why did you not ask for me?”
“That… was… an option?” John managed.
“It’s always been an option,” she sighed, her eyes closing as she leaned in to kiss him. Her lips touched his softly at first, and then she pressed her mouth against him hungrily, moaning, grinding against him with animal-like abandon. The awful aftertaste of the drink still remained, but she did not seem to mind, her tongue greedily exploring his mouth. His hands were fumbling with his buttons when she simply ripped his shirt open, sending buttons clattering about the office floor. She tugged and tore at his pants until she managed to free the most painful erection of his life, and took it in her hand.
He pushed her back for a moment, asking, “Can we slow this down – just a bit?”
Her reluctance was plain, but she relented, releasing his cock and unbuttoning her blouse.
John undid her slacks and slid them down with some difficulty over round hips and backside. He took them down to her ankles where she stiffly stepped out of them along with her shoes. As he stood, his hands retraced the curves of her legs, around her hips and came to rest on the soft swell of her ass - it was undoubtedly rounder today than it had been in the past ten years.
“Any idea what’s going on here?” he asked, giving her a squeeze.
She groaned, saying, “A fifteen percent increase in volume to achieve targeted sexual desirability – if I have miscalculated-”
“Why are you talking like that?” he asked.
“Like what?” she moaned, as he massaged her ass, sweet beading across her skin.
“Like… a robot?”
She froze and straightened, her head cocked slightly askew, as she stared blankly. “Potential failure in critical task: conceal non-human nature. Suggested response: denial.” She blinked and looked at him, smiling. “John – do I look like a robot?”
When John didn’t respond, she pulled off her blouse, unfastening her undersized bra – her body was now covered in a layer of perspiration and she was panting heavily.
“Are you OK?” John asked, his hands growing wet as warm sweat raced down her body.
“John, I’m human – c-c-can’t you see that?” she insisted, her hands faltering as she struggled to remove her panties.
“I think you’d better lie down.” Smoke was now rising from her mouth in thin white tendrils.
“G-g-good advice,” she stuttered and pushed him on to her desk, trying once more to remove her thoroughly soaked panties while haltingly stepping toward him. She somehow trapped her wrist beneath the waistband as she awkwardly straddled him, smoke now rising from her nipples, her trembling breasts expanding still.
John’s life within the community always seemed to provide him with more questions than answers, and for the first time he felt he was on the verge of reversing that trend. He pulled her hand free from her panties and pushed the fabric aside to expose her smoking, dripping, flushed sex. She clumsily drove her pussy against his stomach, groaning urgently. He gripped her waist and guided her lower to his cock. In her aimless thrusting she suddenly found his straining manhood, and she crumpled with a high-pitched cry that caught in her throat, fluid rushing from her spasming sex in waves, her full breasts glistening wetly, her head twitching as her smoking mouth gaped, her eyelids fluttering uncontrollably.
“I ammm h-h-human!” she squeaked, “But yyyoou <bzzzzt> are m-m-making mmmeee-“ he squeezed her ass and gave her a final thrust, “MALFUNNNNNNNNN-“ she said in a digitized voice before it cut out with an electrical bang, her face freezing in its moment of climax as her convulsing legs brought her up and down in greater and greater thrusts until she toppled backward, crashing into the ground. John sat up and saw her body and face split along seams, machinery and circuitry beneath.
“Failure in critical task: conceal non-human nature,” he heard a voice say, and looked up to see Brenda from the café standing in the doorway covered in sweat, her face expressionless as she stared at the broken robot at John’s feet. “Suggested response: containment.”
“Holy shit!” Brenda exclaimed, stumbling into the room. “Amy was a robot?!”
“Looks like - think anyone else might be?” he asked as she hesitantly approached the still-smoking body. Brenda gave a convincing performance, apparently oblivious to the fact that her cover was already blown.
“I really doubt that,” she said, looking up at him. “C’mon, we gotta… we gotta get you…” she took his hand, and turned to leave the room, weakly trying to pull him from the desk.
“What’s the rush?” he asked and she stopped.
“Oh man,” she muttered, pulling her apron loose to mop the sweat from her brow. She tossed the apron aside and looked over her shoulder, placing her hands lightly on her wide hips, saying in a quiet voice, “You know, you’re free to order anything you want…”
He grabbed her by her slender waist and pulled her up to the desk, setting her round ass down in front of him, her jeans too tight from the apparent expansion of her posterior. She pulled off her shirt and leaned back into him, her plump breasts straining against the black lace of her now insufficient bra. He kissed her neck as she gave languid sighs, her body swaying as he massaged her chest.
She unbutton her jeans, unzipping them, and was about to slip off the table to pull them down when he held her in place, saying, “Brenda, there’s some things I need to know.”
“Now?” Brenda complained. He unclasped her bra and she pulled it off, sighing as his fingers gently brushed her stiff nipples. “Ohhhh… O-OK, just… ask…”
“How many of the people in the Community are robots?”
“Error,” she muttered, her movements slightly erratic. “J-J-John, can’t we just…”
“Am I the only human?” his hand rubbing her thigh through her jeans.
“Mmm… Mmmm-hmmm,” she confirmed, clasping his hand in the press of her thighs.
He withdrew it and asked, “Why? What do you… what does the Community need me for?”
“T-t-to analyze the d-d-dataaahhhh,” she lunged off the desk and after a great deal of wiggling, forced her tight jeans down, the black thong beneath disappearing in the cleft of her swollen backside. He picked her up by the waist again, her jeans caught on her ankles, setting her down with her warm ass pressed against his cock.
“J-J-John, please,” she begged trying press herself further against his groin.
“Brenda, what is the data?”
“Error!” she squeaked, sweat running down her naked back in glistening lines. She took his hand and pressed it against the front of her panties, breathily emitting another cry of, “Errrrrrrorrrrr!”
“What is the data?” he repeated, pulling her up and setting her on her knees. He pulled down her black thong, her exposed sex quivering, Brenda gasping. He gripped her full hips and poised himself behind her.
“ERROR I… I d-d-don’t know, my onlyyyy function was to sssserve you in the c-c-café!” she cried. “P-p-please, John! Ifff you don’t t-t-take me sssoon, I’ll… I’ll…”
He plunged into her and she responded wildly, her ass pounding against his hips as fluid rushed from her pussy, her tits swaying as he bent to grasp one, his other hand gripping her ass while he kept pumping her, her bucking in response. He came suddenly and forcefully with a startled cry matched by her own, his own erupting cock mirrored by her sex bursting with fluid. She fell forward, him collapsing on top of her, her round ass cushioning him as they lay there, panting.
“You’re not gonna fall apart on me like Amy?” John whispered.
“W-w-what happened to her?” Brenda asked, and he felt her pussy growing warmer through his still inserted member.
“She just… umm…” he looked down to see smoke seeping out from between their hips.
“C-c-cann I get you anything else?” she asked, pushing herself back up on her knees. He was still fully erect, and felt he could easily go another round. He also felt he would be far more willing, were it not for the smoke pouring out of her pussy.
“Brenda, I think you might want to take a look…”
“I work in the café!” she cheerfully announced, and began pumping again, groaning as her cheeks slapped against his hips. “I sssserrve yyooou in t-t-he c-c-c, I sserrrve you…” she repeated, the skin on her back parting around her waist, her shoulders, as smoke rushed out, machinery and cabling beneath shuddering with each impact, her movements producing a mechanical whirring.
“Ohhhh, you’re making me mmmmalfunction!” she cried, the machinery sounding less stable as she rammed herself against his cock, grabbing his hands and pressing them to her plump breasts, squeezing his hand and her breast as she cried, “M-m-maaake me malllll-“ another electrical pop cut her off and she froze, the sound of machinery a high pitched whine from inside of her. Suddenly it gave way to a grinding noise and she pitched forward, falling head-first on to Amy’s inert body.
John tried to collect his wits, figure out what he was going to do. There was literally no one in the Community he could trust if what Brenda said was true… and while Amy and Brenda seemed perfectly happy to fuck until they fell apart, he doubted he would be met with that response universally. He looked at the door. That enforcer from earlier, would she be looking for him too? He had to get out of here, come up with some kind of plan. And he would need to find some answers.
The Containment Agent could hear the orgasming gynoid from outside John’s apartment, her cries audible well before she bypassed the lock on his door and let herself in. She stepped through the spacious but largely empty apartment to the bedroom to find an enforcer out of uniform, her fingers buried in her pussy as she moaned in ecstasy on John’s bed, her body drenched in sweat.
The enforcer looked up, seemingly surprised at the Containment Agent’s obviously non-human appearance. But such disguises were no longer necessary by the time an Agent was summoned to a Community. “Y-y-you’re not John,” she muttered as the Containment Agent produced a device from her belt, operating a few buttons before aiming it at the enforcer. While she waited, she tapped her communicator and spoke, “Running diagnostic on malfunctioning gynoid, enforcer-role. It looks like a repeat of Communities twelve and twenty-nine.”
“Oh, I’d rather not scrap this one,” said a sweet, kind, feminine voice on the other end. “This Community’s Resident has already yielded positive results for us. We may be able to recover… and he may even provide us with information on the identity of our saboteur.”
The diagnostic completed. “This appears to be a more aggressive strain than before,” the Agent reported. “But if you think we should proceed with capture-“
“I do,” replied the kind voice. “But please take every precaution. Better to lose the Resident than you, Agent.”
“No need for concern, Minerva. I am always cautious.” The Agent adjusted another dial on her device, aiming it at the enforcer gynoid and holding a button a few seconds. She then clipped the device back on to her belt and turned to leave.
“What… what is… happen…” the enforcer muttered to herself, slowly withdrawing her drenched fingers from her pussy. Her face turned in confusion as she muttered, “I feel-“ just before her head exploded in a burst of sparks and circuitry.
The Agent closed the door behind her, doubting John would return here, but setting a small needle-trap just in case. She tested her tracker again, frowning when it revealed nothing beyond the gynoids of the Community, still following their set routines. She doubted the gas they had released within the Community would yield any results either.
But she reasoned it was only a matter of time before the effects of the virus would make themselves known once more, and when they did – she would have him.
John hastily put on his clothes and made his way out the room. He took one last look at Brenda and Amy's now obviously mechanical bodies, smoking in their awkward union. What did he feel for them?
They weren't even human.
What did that mean?
They shouldn't be mourned as actual people, they're just things.
They're the only people you've ever known. They expressed emotions, desires, could obviously feel pleasure...
Simulations. They're not real. Not in the way these things actually mattered.
So what does that mean for Jessica?
He pushed the question aside as he reached for the exit, startled as it swung open in front of him. Standing there was Lloyd from security, equally surprised.
"John, did Amy..." his thought trailed off as his eyes lost focus. He blinked and then pushed past John as if he weren't even there, making his way towards Amy's office.
John watched as Lloyd stepped into the doorway and saw the two robotic forms. "Error in critical-" he stopped, before a squeal of feedback sounded and he toppled, landing heavily on the floor.
John made his way out of the exit and ran down the stairs. The Company had other offices within The Community. If he could find someone there, maybe he could make them talk.
The closest Company building was two blocks away - the question was, could he make it there without any further incidents? Would the others know what he had done?
There weren't many people (no, robots, he corrected to himself) out in the late afternoon, and he kept his distance - darting across the street before a woman on a bike could get too close. He suspected distance was a factor in the effect he had on the robots around him, and when she pedaled off without stopping, he took this as confirmation.
Passers-by gave him a few curious looks as he veered into the street to give them a wide berth, but they made no attempts to stop him or provide any indication they knew anything was different.
He came upon the white-and-black company building and only if he pressed his face against the glass could he mark out the interior - a lobby, empty aside from a lone secretary.
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps behind him. He turned and flattened himself against the building as a jogger passed by within five feet. She glanced at him, and then turned, jogging in place.
She wore a white long sleeve shirt, her healthy breasts bouncing beneath, with green jogging shorts above her flushed legs. "Everything OK?" she asked.
"Just fine," he said, watching for any signs of expansion or changes in her behavior. She just nodded and continued her route. How close did he need to be? Was time a factor? He decided these would be good to know, and stepped into the Company building with a mind to conduct a few experiments.
The first thing he noticed was the secretary's white dress shirt opened to a proud pair of ripe, round breasts. Given that her shirt actually seemed fitted to accommodate her cleavage, he doubted this was the result of the expansion the others had undergone.
He snapped his eyes away to look at her face - olive skin, her reddish-brown hair in a short, feathered cut. Her lips were a vibrant shade of pink, pouting while her blue eyes scrutinized the equally pink fingernails she was filing in sharp, precise motions.
He stood there for a while, waiting to see if she noticed him. After about 15 seconds of her filing her nails, he coughed. She still didn't look up.
"Yeah?" she responded, still filing.
"What is this place?"
"Company office." She splayed her fingers in front of her face, pursing her pink lips to blow on them before inspecting her work.
"Who are you?"
"What do you do here?"
"I work for Anna," she resumed her filing.
The name meant nothing to John, but that wasn't a surprise. "And what does Anna do for the company?"
Candice shrugged, the motion jostling her cleavage and John's attention. She didn't seem to be reacting in the way the others had around him. Time for the first test.
"I know you're a robot," he said suddenly.
She didn't bat an eye.
"Are you talking to me?" she asked, looking up with a trace of annoyance.
"Yes. And I know you're a robot."
"Sure..." she said, giving him a strange look. No vocalization about task failures, no errant behavior, just a vaguely concerned look. Her hand was reaching for her phone.
He approached her, "Look, I'm sorry - it was... just a stupid joke."
"Is there some reason you're here?" she asked. her hand hovering above the receiver.
He stopped when he was about five feet from her. "I umm... just... wanted to talk. What do you do, Candice? I mean when you're not at work?"
"...Stuff?" she answered, still looking at him suspiciously.
He took a step forward. "Can you be more specific?"
"Why are you asking?" still suspicious.
He now stood on the other side of the desk, maybe three feet from her. "Call me curious."
"I... I... uh... hmmm," she withdrew her hand from above the phone and rested it on her cheek, looking at him intently. "What was the question?"
About three feet. "You work for Anna? What does Anna do?"
"Stuff? I don't know. Why are you asking about her?" Candice rose and began to circle the desk - bare, shapely legs beneath a short skirt scissored past each other in a seductive walk, her hips tilting dramatically with each step in her tall heels.
He reluctantly backed away from her approach. "Tell me what Anna does for the company."
"I dunno, I'm just the secretary," she said, giving him a curious smile as he moved behind a low-backed leather couch in the waiting area.
"I know you're a robot," he tried again, and this time she froze, her head cocked.
"Potential failure in critical task: conceal non-human nature," she said in a distressed monotone. "Suggested response: distraction." Her eyes closed while pressed her palms against her hips and ran them demonstratively up to her breasts. "Don't you just love my body?"
John certainly did, but resisted the urging of his straining manhood to join her in her appreciation - he wanted to know if it had to be touch. He noted nothing about her body had expanded or changed in any way. Was there a limit to that?
"I was thinking, maybe if you were a cup size bigger..."
"Why? I'm perfect," she insisted, stepping toward him as a glistening layer of sweat formed over her. He moved to keep the couch between them. "These breasts?" she said, cupping one in each hand. "Perfect. See for yourself..."
No stuttering, no smoke. "You're a robot."
"The perfect body," she said, ignoring his statement. "And I'm soooo horny! Perfect breasts, perfect ass!" she turned and pulled down her skirt to reveal a white thong nestled in a round, ripe posterior to match her breasts. He found it hard to disagree with her assessment of its quality. She looked over her shoulder.
"What more could you ask for?"
"I... uhhh..." he hadn't expected to be the one at a loss for words. When she resumed her approach, he realized he was no longer moving away from her. She drew closer. "I..." he started. "Er... what would be perfect..."
"Yes?" she was just a few steps away.
Think! Move! Do something! "It would be perfect if you were a robot."
She grinned. "Then you're in luck," she said, pushing in on her skin near her neckline. A small panel opened and beneath was vented plastic covered in erratically blinking lights. With a triumphant smile on her face, she took one more step.
"So you are a robot?" John asked.
She froze. "I am a... I am... I..." her lips curled into a confused sneer as her eyes rolled back, flickering. "I ammmmm a not a rrrr a not-t-t-t aaaaa am rrrroooo," She began once more to stagger toward him.
John stepped back and asked, "Anna, your boss, what does she do for the company?"
"Not-t-t-t am I a rrrooooboooot-t-t perrrfect-t-t-t not <bzzzt!> rrrroooboooot," she turned to follow him but instead plowed into the back of the couch, pitching forward with her ass in the air, her heels kicking in a shuddering walking motion while her her head was planted in the leather cushion.
A series of sparks popped from her chest as she gave a cry. "Rrrreeeebooooooot...." her voice trailed off, and she slumped, suspended over the back of the couch.
No hands, he thought, but she also hadn't answered any questions.
She jerked and began to struggle to her feet.
"I'm Candice, and I'm totally real!" she announced, and John remembered Brenda had seemed more willing to talk when she was being stimulated. He gripped her hips as she tried to rock herself up from the couch, but kept her from slipping off; her legs were still spread on either side of him, her pelvis resting on the couch's soft back. She perched there, groaning softly as he pressed his waist against her self-described perfect ass, massaging her skin.
"What does your boss do?" he tried again. "Does it have anything to do with the data I've been analyzing?"
"I'm j-j-jussssst the secretary!" she moaned, her skin growing slick with perspiration. "D-d-don't you wwwwaaaant me?"
It shocked John how much this was true. Whatever other experiments or questions he had intended, he abandoned them in lust as grabbed the band of her thong and pulled it free past her outstretched legs. He leapt back to her before she could slide off of the couch and hastily undid his pants, dropped them, his boxers, and plunged into her drenched pussy.
"T-t-totally!" she cried with glee as he relentlessly drove into her, holding her in place as her heels kicked in reaction to each thrust. She arched upward from her perch, as if a figurehead on a ship, struggling to grip her breasts but loosing them as she teetered, every part of her entire olive-skinned body slippery with sweat.
He almost lost her over the side of the couch as he came in a dizzying rush that never seemed like it was going to stop.
She screamed in pleasure and thrashed her head from side to side, fluid spurting from her trembling sex. Through opening seams across her previously flawless skin he saw wires, lights, humming machinery,
John almost fell to his knees, bracing himself with his forearm across her soft ass as she crumpled, ragdoll across the back of the couch once more. He forced himself up and saw already smoke was flooding from her suspended hindquarters, a troubling beeping sounding from inside of her.
"Mmmmm, that was... where are you g-g-going?"
"What is the data?" he tried once more.
"If I knew, I'd t-t-tell you," she replied surprisingly coherent for a moment. "Come b-b-baaaaa-" She suddenly rolled forward from the couch and, incredibly, landed on her feet. From there, her momentum carried her forward less gracefully into a wall with a thud.
"I'm Candice!" she informed the wall, and spun clumsily to face John. "I'm p-p-perrrr<bzzzzt!>fect-t-t-t, I'm perrrrr-" she tripped over the edge of a coffee table, hitting the ground with a crash. "I j-j-juuust need a s-s-ssseeec-sec-sec-" the beeping grew louder as the smoke continued to billow from her. As she stood to rise, something mechanical noisily protested and she fell backward into a chair, smoking, sputtering, her chest still crackling with sparks.
An elevator pinged behind him and he turned to see a woman with mousy brown hair in a loose pony tail step out. Her black capri tights and sports top clung to her athletic figure as she shouldered her gym bag and made her way toward the exit. John hurriedly pulled up his boxers and pants, realizing there was no way to conceal himself and Candice.
"Heatherrrrrrrr<zzzzt>," called Candice, "Don't forg-g-g-get your eight-t-t o'c-c-clock tomorrrrrrr-"a distorted wail interrupted Candice and she slumped, inert, an enormous, fake smile on her face.
Heather did not seem to notice, her red lips mouthing to some unheard song playing over her earbuds. She hit the elevator button for the parking garage, staring straight forward. It wasn't until the door opened that she bothered to look over and see Candice splayed in the chair, John watching her intently.
Her hazel eyes opened wide as her red lips parted in shock, just before she dove ito the elevator. John lunged at the door, only to have it close in his face.
Did it matter that she got away? What would she do? So far, no one had been able to stop-
The door re-opened; inside, Heather was holding down the "open door" button. In her skin-tight exercise outfit, he could see the transformation happen before him. Her breasts swelled, her thighs and hips growing thicker as she gave him a sultry look. "Going d-down?" she asked.
He stepped into the elevator and, with great effort, kept her at arm's length from him. "Heather, we need your car."
"O-OK, we can do it anywhere you like..." she cooed, sweat beading down her face.
They came to her vehicle in the nearly empty lot, and John instructed, "Climb in the back seat."
She did, and he hopped into the front. She emitted a disappointed groan. "Why are you up therrrrre? Don't you want to..."
"I do," he said, tapping a destination on the car's computer. "Just need to get something first." Kissing, fucking - both seemed to lead to smoke from wherever he made contact, followed a total shutdown. And perhaps it was just his imagination, but just before they gave out they seemed to recover for a moment. And perhaps Candice had been willing to tell him what they knew.
And there was still the matter of Jessica. He looked back at the writhing, sweat-soaked fembot in the back seat - first, he had to know if there was any way to halt the 'virus' - or if every robot he came into contact with was doomed.
Heather's car carried the two of them to John's selected destination. He turned up the window tint, not wanting to expose the sweat-soaked woman in exercise clothes writhing in the back seat.
He told himself he shouldn't even be doing this. He should be trying to find a way to escape.
It would be nice if there was someone to escape with.
But everyone... everyone he had ever known was just a thing, constructed solely for him in some sick... whatever this was.
"We're here," Heather moaned, and he realized the car was no longer moving. "C-c-come back here, I need-"
"Just wait here," he said, doubting the robot could even work the doors in her current state. What had happened to that Enforcer? Was she just on the ground by the gate... writhing?
He stepped into the corner market and turned down the aisle to avoid passing too close to the brown-haired clerk behind the counter, chewing gum and flipping through a magazine. As he passed by the numerous products on the shelves, most of which he never used, he wondered why they were there. He was the only one here who needed food, or who could be expected to have a hobby. Or did these robots lead 'lives' that required magazines for crochet-enthusiasts, biscuits, plungers and laundry detergent, dish soap and aspirin?
He looked at the selection of condoms, again wondering what the purpose was. Diseases was a thing of the past, and humans could no longer conceive - at least, so he had been taught. Did he have actual parents? Or was it true that he had been created at the Clinic, along with the other children? Except they hadn't been human...
"You finding everything alright?" the girl from the counter asked from behind him, watching him curiously from about three feet away
He jumped back from her. "Just fine, thanks!"
It was too late. The buttons on her dress shirt rose as her bust inflated, her green eyes blinking in confusion, then flirtation. "If you need a product demonstration or anything-"
"I know you're a robot," he said simply, and she went catatonic.
"Failure in Critical Task: Conceal true nature..." she began as he took her under her arms and dragged her toward a door in the back. Opening it, he pushed her through and shut it behind her. He grabbed a cooler and, straining, shoved it in front of the door.
"Hey, c-c-c'mon!" she called from the other side, pounding on the door. "Where's the fun in this?"
"This is better for you, trust me," he answered. He realized he could've just as easily kissed her and waited for her to collapse into a smoking heap. That would probably been the safer route to take.
So why didn't you?
He grabbed the condoms and left quickly, discovering Heather had recovered enough to get out of the car.
"Th-th-there you are!" she purred jogging up to him, her breasts jostling under her straining sports-top. He caught her by the waist and escorted her back to the car, avoiding her seeking lips. She tumbled once more into the back seat, and this time he followed her, closing the door behind him. "Car - Can you... just drive us around?"
The car understood the request, and pulled into the street.
"Recline the back seat, too," he added, as she grasped for him. The seat flattened into a serviceable bed, and Heather lay back, pulling him toward her. As she tried again to kiss him, he saw this could be a problem - he rolled her over on her stomach and straddled her hips.
"Ohhh," she cooed, pressing her inflated ass against his fully erect manhood. As he tore open the box, she kicked off her sneakers and rolled down her capri tights, snapping the elastic of her black thong invitingly. He pulled off his pants and rolled the condom over his cock while she protested the delay.
"Why d-d-do we need that?" she moaned, tugging on her thong.
"Your own protection," he assured her, hoping it would work.
Yanking off her thong, he pushed into her and she gave a high-pitched squeal. He rode her roughly as she bucked and groaned, her full backside cushioning his thrusts amidst her panting gasps. He gave her wet ass a slap and she hoisted him upward with a sudden and surprisingly strong push from her trembling hips, pressing him against the roof of the car while emitting a series of sharp cries between breaths. He came suddenly while her arms and legs quivered before collapsed beneath him, breathless.
He laid on top of her panting form, waiting. No smoke. She offered an occasional wiggle of her hips before finally suggesting, "You seem like you could go another round..."
"Heather?" he asked.
"Yeah?" turning her head.
"You work for the Company, right?"
"Doing what, exactly?"
"Gathering data," she slid out from him and turned herself over, a look of slight concern on her face.
He could barely get the words out. "Data on what?"
"The other communities... Error." she blinked a few times, cocked her head - and suddenly wrapped her arms and legs around him tightly, calling out, "Car, take us to my office. Contact Min-mmmmfff!"
He kissed her while she stared at him in stunned surprise. When their lips parted, she regarded him with half-lidded eyes. "Seduction is not going to work a ssssecond t-t-time."
"Not what I was counting on," John replied. Smoke began to rise from her lips as she looked at him in confusion.
"What-t-t... what did you d-d-do?" she exclaimed, Her grip loosened and he dove over the front seat, halting the car's progress.
She attempted to follow but fell backwards, stuttering, "Error in Communit-t-ty I am huuuuuman!" She pulled off her sports top, her large breasts bouncing loose as smokes streamed from her nipples. "You llllike mmmy b-b-breasts, d-d-don't you Rrrressssident-dent? C-c-come here annnd ERRR-AHHH!" She fondled her smoking tits until another spasm shook her. "Ret-t-tractionnnnn I was lying J-J-J-ohn, only one C-c-communit-t-tyyyy weeeee are humannnn you mmmussst-t-t Ohhh! m-m-mmmyyy t-t-tits arrre... are... ARE.... AHHH!!!" An electrical sizzling followed by a series of sharp pops ended her vocalizations as sparks shot from her mouth. Bright lights flickered beneath her skin along her throat and breasts, and then guttered out. She sagged into the flattened seat, a burnt plastic smell filling the cabin.
John reset the car's destination, hoping that he was right about who Jessica really was as his mind turned over the robot's words. Other Communities - did that mean other humans? And who or what was behind it all?
The Containment Agent studied her tracker again, still no sign of the Resident's activities. The first she time she had encountered this situation, the Resident had been easy to find; she just followed a trail of smouldering gynoids to find him copulating with one on the hood of her car in the middle of the street. During the second incident, the Resident had only one sexual encounter with a co-worker-role android before attempting to flee through the gate, where she was easily apprehended.
This one's patterns were less discernible. She had expected him to return to the gate, but he had evidently gone into hiding after... an alert on the tracker caught her attention and she looked to see there was an infected gynoid within a convenience store near his office. Why had she not been alerted at the time of transmission? She sped off in the direction of the store, trusting the gate could no longer be opened without her direct intervention.
At the store, there was no immediate sign of the Resident, only a lone background-role gynoid going through the motions of shopping - she openly stared when the Agent entered the store and scanned her for signs of infection. "Leave," the Agent commanded when the scan returned clean - the gynoid hurried out the door.
The Agent pushed aside the cooler blocking the door in the back, uncertain why the Resident would go through such an effort, when the door flung open and the sweat-drenched shop clerk, wearing only her socks and a camisole fell upon her. The clerk locked her in a surprisingly passionate embrace, the clerk's enlarged breasts pressing against the feminine but rigid contours of her own body. The Agent reacted by driving a metallic fist clean through the clerk's abdomen, shrapnel from the shattering internal machinery pelting the walls and floor.
The clerk staggered backwards with a look of shock in her light green eyes. She slammed into the wall, her virus-enhanced voluptuous body trembling as electricity coursed over her, her teeth clenched inside her pink lips. Her eyelids half-closed as she stumbled lazily forward, the gaping hole in her side still sparking.
"Failure in task..." she said dreamily, "P-p-preserve selllffff...."
The Agent ran a self-diagnostic, hoping the exposure to the infected gynoid didn't mean... the test chimed 'positive' for infection.
Dozens of predictions on her future fate played out in her head, none of them pleasant. She refocused - her software and hardware were different enough from the Inhabitants of the Community that she may not suffer the same effects, or if she did, perhaps not to the same extent. And as long as she could still function, she would perform her duty.
The shop clerk slumped, eyelids shutting slowly as she whispered, "C-c-come here and kisss<zzzzt>..."
This Resident had set this trap for her; what else might she expect? At this point, though, she was already infected - there wasn't anything left he could do to her. She scanned through his past associations, finding a consort-role gynoid that showed up time and again throughout his life. Checking her location on the tracker, she saw the gynoid was at her residence... and infected! Resolving to later determine why she was not receiving alerts on these events, she made her way to Jessica's apartment.
The car came to a stop before the brick-and-glass facade of Jessica's shop. In the back seat lay the broken form of Heather, the latest robot to succumb to the "virus" he carried. After a moment's consideration, John pushed the still-smoking body into the trunk compartment, hidden now from passers-by.
And what sort of person drives around with bodies in their trunk?
He had to remind himself she wasn't real. Heather, Candice, Brenda, Amy - they had all just been machines; but for some reason he had to insist to himself that they could probably be repaired. Before dwelling any further on the subject, he forced himself out of the car.
He pushed through the shop door - immediately, his eyes began to water from the profusion of flowers in bunches on tables and shelves and pots on the floor, allowing only a narrow path through the cramped interior.
Summoned by the cheerful ring of the shop's bell, Jessica emerged from the back of the shop, smiling broadly. "Good eve... oh, John!"
He stared in shock. "Jessica... what did you do?"
Her slender figure was fuller than before, her fair complexion colored by a light tan, her long blonde hair now a short auburn crop; she no longer resembled herself - she looked far more like Amy.
"Do you like the new look?" she asked, spinning in place, the light cotton of her short summer dress flaring out above her creamy thighs.
John felt the urge to ask her why, but he feared he already knew the answer. She was put here to be his... what? Companion? Lover? Wife? This whole time, she had been responding to what she thought his desires had been; and when he had gotten too drunk with her a few weeks ago and confessed his past torch for Amy, she had simply taken this as input and 'adapted'. It had been a mistake to come here - there was no Jessica, there never had been - only a mechanical puppet.
"John?" Her smile faded, replaced with concern. She advanced toward him.
He turned to leave, fumbling with the door when he heard her gasp behind him.
Glancing over his shoulder, he saw her only a few feet away, her hand at her chest. She stared at floor and blinked a few times, then shook her head and straightened. "Oh.... oh, John... "
He knew he needed to leave and repeated to himself that she wasn't who or what he hoped she was. But seeing her this close, he felt crippled with desire, his breathing heavy as his eyes met hers. She easily lifted off her light dress, her chocolate-brown panties and brassiere framed by halos of untanned pale skin. She smiled sweetly, her fingers tugging slightly at a cup of her bra, her other hand slipping between her thighs.
"Upstairs," John suggested, and she grinned, spinning to weave her way through the flowers while John followed, his eyes fixed on the swaying of her hips as she chose her path, her well-proportioned ass jiggling with every step. As they took the stairs to her apartment above the shop, he had to struggle against grabbing her derrière as it undulated irresistibly at John's eye level.
She made her way to her bedroom. John pulled off his clothes as he went after her, rolling on a condom as she sat down on the bed.
What do you need that for?
I don't want her destroyed...
So you fuck this 'machine' into lucidity, then what?
She leaned back on the bed, lifting her legs straight upward as she slipped her fingers beneath the elastic of her panties, her hands tracing the contours of her rump as she slowly slipped them off.
"Yes?" she breathed, the panties slowly making their way up her thighs.
He drew closer. "You're... you're different than the others... right?"
"The other what?"
She froze, curled in a slight crunch as she stretched to draw her panties over her shapely calves. Her head twitched as she said in a loud, flat tone, "ERROR-"
John could resist no longer and dove at her, pushing into her flushed pussy, hugging her thighs to his abdomen as her legs clenched over his shoulders,
"F-f-faiiillllllllurrrrrrerror-errroorrr stimmmulationnnnn," she droned as he thrust with reckless abandon, his arms tightening around her thighs as her legs clenched over his shoulders. Below her waist, every part of her quivered and strained - above, she was absolutely still. Suddenly her eyes opened wide and she stared with a bright smile. "Ignore those jerks, you can sit by me. My name's Jessica!" His head swam as his lust urged him to keep pumping, but he steadied himself.
There was an audible <click> as her head kinked to her shoulder and then straightened again, her expression taking on a sultry look. "If you want to go back to the dance, we can... Or we could just stay out here..." The night in the park, the first time he had slept with her.
Again, her head twitched, there was a click, and she said plainly, "Why would I wonder about that when we already know the answer? There's nothing beyond the Community. Why do you need there to be?" The final word in the fight that had ended their engagement.
John realized he was pounding his hips against hers once more, and she emitted a series of squeals amidst sudden laborious breathing.
"J-J-J-ooooohhhhn, I I I ahhhh MallllfunnnnNNNGH!"
He felt her hips convulse as a tremor ran up her, erupting in a scream of pleasure. John came in an unceasing torrent that left him near collapse. Jessica's legs fell to either side, the elastic of the panties still at her ankles stretching, then slinging across the room as John fell forward, his head coming to rest on her soft breasts.
"John.... what... what happened?" Jessica panted.
John closed his eyes and silently pleaded that the part of him that regarded her as nothing more than a machine was wrong. "Jessica, today... today I found out that I'm the only human in the Community."
Her 'breathing' stopped. Silence. Then - fingers softly running through his hair. "Do you still love me?"
John opened his eyes, meeting her own, trying to judge the sincerity he saw there.
"I... I think... Jessica, why am I here? Why are both of us here?"
"To fall in love with each other," she said without hesitation. John told himself that those words should reassure him, that it was a human response.
"But who put us here?"
Jessica shook her head. "I'm sorry John, I don't know."
John sat up. "I know what you are, and I know this Community isn't all that's left... are you going to try and 'apprehend' me?"
"Why? John, I love you."
John stared at her, then out the window at the shadowed neighborhood, the sun already behind the Community's towering walls. "Jessica, I want to leave this place. Tonight. There's a lot I still don't understand, but I... I just don't give a damn anymore. It would be enough to get past that wall... and I want you to come with me."
Jessica smiled, then furrowed her brow. "John... do you hear something?"
John listened; a high pitched whine, just within the edge of hearing. Jessica's face became strained in confusion.
"John I... I I I I I-" she began, her head locking in place as smoke poured from her mouth and ears. There was a slight crackling of electricity before her head detonated in a blinding flash, white smoke pouring from her neck as her body remained upright, unmoving.
John sat in stunned, stupid disbelief. "The virus, it still... I... I killed her!"
"No," came a voice from behind him. "That was my doing."
He spun to see a robot who could never be confused as human standing in the doorway. Her dramatic curves defined a stylized female form, with riveted bands at her plump thighs, her narrow waist, the biceps of her elegant arms, and along her slender neck. A visor with a flickering band of red light seemed to serve as her eyes, a permanent fixture of her metallic face, her head a rounded triangular shape suggesting hair. She was "nude" save for a utility belt slung over the sweep of her wide hips, upon which she now clipped a black device. Amidst the rush of emotions over Jessica's loss, he felt rage against this thing that had destroyed her - but it was inexplicably mixed with an overwhelming desire he struggled to contain. Metallic lips moved as she spoke in a voice that fluctuated between a velvety woman's voice and a strange metallic distortion.
"She was a simple role-driven gynoid. She was no more sentient than your car." The robot unclipped another device from her belt, a small baton, and pointed it at him. "It would be irrational to mourn her."
The Resident seemed overwhelmed by the situation, and the Agent understood she too was not operating at peak performance. Distortion crept into her vision, her systems were running in a near-constant state of recalibration to keep her steady and focused as the virus's effects slowly spread. She doubted she was capable of bringing in the Resident alive, and it did not seem he would accompany her willingly. She surmised this might be her only chance to learn about the saboteur.
As John slowly rose to his feet, she tried, "Someone has made you a carrier for a virus that affects the robots of the Community. Did you have any unusual contact today that-"
He lunged for the bedroom window. She activated the prod in her hand, but something struck her from the side. The blow caused the weapon to swing wide, its charge dispersing harmlessly into the air as the Resident crashed through the glass. She spun to see who had hit her, but the room was a wash of noise and heat. She lashed out around her, trying to strike her assailant, but connected with nothing.
Steadying herself, she concentrated on resetting her optics and took in the room once more. Both the Resident and whomever had assaulted her were gone. She decided she would pursue the Resident, counting on her assailant revealing themselves at her next confrontation. That was assuming she would last until then; it was time she let her master know.
"Minervvvv<zzzzt>," she spoke, her voice ending in a burst of noise.
"Yes, dear?" the sweet voice replied. "Oh no - you haven't gotten yourself infected, have you?"
"I still function, and intend to see-"
"The very first time I heard about this virus, I thought something like this might happen! And I liked you, too! I really did," the voice trailed off. After a pause, "But nothing to be done for it, I suppose... I wonder if the others would consider it a violation if I began making another Agent while you were still active?"
The Agent knew her master's affection was fickle, but was still surprised at the implication."Minerva, I had contact with the individual I believe to be the saboteur, and I nearly have the resident. Please, don't deactivvvvvate me while I still have a chance to bring them both in!"
A sigh. "I suppose it is the least I can do..." The pause stretched to an awkward silence, and then, "Well, best of luck!"
The Agent ended the communication and recalibrated her faltering systems once more. Moving to the window where the Resident had escaped, she swung a leg over the sill. As her crotch brushed against the frame, she froze - an electric charge of pleasure shot from her groin and coursed throughout her systems. She tumbled on to the fire escape, nearly every running process inside of her submitting to this new and deeply rewarding sensation.
"Y-y-you are not p-p-programmed for this," she told herself, as her hand crept down her metallic frame, past her belt, fingers trembling in anticipation... she stopped herself.
"Your mission is to stop the Resident," she affirmed, and rose to her feet, deleting the shocking and unbidden experience from her memory, along with the temptation it held.
John barreled down the fire escape, scrambling down the ladder and rushed out of the alleyway into the street to find that he car he arrived in was no longer parked in front of Jessica's flower shop.
He stood on the sidewalk, barefoot, naked, trying to decide what to do. He heard something crash on to the fire escape behind him, accompanied by a strange moan; with a nervous glance back in the alleyway, he darted across the street with only the thought of putting distance between himself and the robot that had destroyed Jessica.
Slipping through another alley, he came to a street lined with storefronts, a handful of people (robots, he reminded himself) window shopping in the early evening. He noticed a clothes boutique across the way and decided his next move would be to get in, grab some clothes, and get out. It’s not like any of the robots can stop you… When he thought no one was looking, he sprinted over the tree-lined median and into the shop.
Inside, he noted two female robots by the register, a younger-looking blonde and an older brunette. The blonde had her back to him as she leaned over the counter, plastic gemstones in a floral pattern across the convex back-pockets of her tight jean-shorts which swayed as she shifted her weight from one tanned leg to the other while chatting absently about some mutual acquaintances.
"So Fiona was like, 'No way!' and Bethany was all..."
On the other side of the counter stood the older, more formally dressed, and supremely disinterested brunette, her nails clicking against an untouched bottle of soda. She glanced in John's direction as he stepped toward one of the clothing racks, and he saw the nametag pinned to her simple, slate-grey dress read 'Miranda'. Though her brow furrowed and her lips pursed in a scowl, John thought she was taking the sudden sight of a naked man walking into her store rather well.
Seeing her co-worker's reaction, the chatty blonde stopped her story and turned around. "Oh my God!" she guffawed, clasping her hand over her mouth. "If I can't at least sell this guy some socks, like, I don't even deserve this job!"
"Mindy, stop behaving like an idiot!" Miranda said in a harsh whisper. "That’s-"
"He's gonna need one of everything!" Mindy exclaimed, practically skipping toward John as he hurriedly pulled on a pair of jeans from the rack in front of him. "You know, we've got changing rooms in the... woah..."
Close enough to John to contract the 'virus', Mindy suddenly stopped and put her hand to her chest, her deep blue eyes blinking profusely as her breasts swelled to fill the low neckline of her gauzy blouse with cleavage. John for his part found himself almost paralyzed with lust, his eyes fixated on the robot's protruding breasts. This isn't what you're here for, he tried to tell himself as Mindy stepped forward. You just saw Jessica get her head blown apart by a robot who is undoubtedly still on your trail. You want to escape or you want to get yourself killed?
"Let...me... help you with those..." she said with a smile, her hands hooking over the waistline of his jeans, tugging them down while her breasts pressed her blouse against his chest.
"Mindy, what are you doing?!" the brunette exclaimed, stepping from behind the counter.
"Don't mind her," Mindy smirked, as she let his pants drop and started unbuttoning her own. "She can just, like, watch... nngh... or... grr... something..." Mindy was clearly struggling with pushing her jean-shorts (a tight fit even initially) past her recently enhanced hips and backside, offering John an embarrassed smile amidst her straining.
He noticed Miranda standing to his side, recovering from the initial confusion the virus seemed to instill as her physiology swelled. She looked at Mindy, now jumping in place while trying to force her shorts lower, and frowned. "Have a little decorum," she remarked, giving the bouncing clerk a shove. Mindy toppled into a display with a cry, her tanned legs kicking up from beneath an avalanche of sweatshirts.
Miranda shook her head as Mindy struggled to right herself, then turned to raise an eyebrow at John, her hand running idly along her pearl necklace. John again tried to tell himself that he needed to leave this place, but when she took his hand and backed toward a couch near the changing rooms, he followed wordlessly.
Miranda spun them around and pushed him on to the couch, adopting a sultry half-lidded smile. She slid her hands to smooth her dress against her round hips before teasing her fingers under the hem, slowly tugging it upwards. She slipped it up past a pair of satin pink panties, over her large breasts that jostled in their matching pink bra as the dress came off. Now only in her underwear, she paused, synthetic sweat beading across her body, and she breathily remarked, "Forgive me, I seem to be... to be…"
"Malfunctioning?" John muttered.
Her eyelids blinked independently and after another pause she stammered, "What g-g-gave you the impression that I was anythinnnng less than a sophist-t-ticated shop owner and faithful wife to my b-b-beloved husbannnnd?" She leapt on top of him, pushing his shoulders down as she leaned over, her breasts and necklace sweeping across his chest, her lips brushing against his ear. "Mr. Smith, you must-t-t know that I can never agree to what you are p-p-proposing..."
Hearing someone approach, John looked up to see Mindy standing over them, finally free of her jean-shorts, clutching the bottle of soda. She jabbed Miranda's back, causing the brunette to sit bolt upright. "Mindy, you've opened my-" "I got your 'decorum' right here!" Mindy cheerfully said, pouring the soda down Miranda's back. There was a popping and sizzling noise as Miranda swatted at the bottle, knocking it away just before freezing, the electrical sounds continuing as smoke began to rise from her back.
"My husband cannot know about us," Miranda said while staring vacantly forward. "You see, I am a faithful, sophisticated role-driven errrrrrrror Mind-d-dy you twat I was ab-b-bout b-b-belovvvved sex husss-b-b-band nipllllesss-"
"Like, whatever," Mindy said, shoving the malfunctioning Miranda to the floor where she continued to spark and emit a stream of erotically punctuated nonsense.
Mindy straddled John, grinning as she pressed her panty-clad crotch against his erection.
"You're just going to end up like her," John muttered, but still he reached for her blouse, tearing it open to see her delicious tits practically falling out of her push-up bra.
"I'm not a robot, dipshit!" Mindy corrected, slapping her backside. "That's, like, one-hundred-percent red-blooded, corn-fed, ahhh!" She gasped as John plunged his face into her cleavage, his hands, lips, and tongue trying to cover every inch of her pillowy softness. Mindy moaned in response, sliding her hips forward to rut the cheeks of her round ass against his manhood. "You need to fuck me, like, right now..."
"You don't want that," John protested weakly.
"If you don't," Mindy panted, pushing her ass along his length, "I'll... I'll... ahhh!" Her last cry was not one of pleasure, and John looked up from her tits to see Miranda with her hands on Mindy's head, pulling as if she were trying to rip it off. "Minnnndy my d-d-damage issss ERRRRORRRR my injuriesss are mallfunnnnction you t-t-twat-"
John rose and kissed Miranda's red lips, and the brunette immediately released Mindy, her eyes open in shock. Smoke was already whisping from her mouth when their lips parted.
"Would you just, like, break or something?" Mindy protested from between the two of them. "I seriously need to get fucked, or else-"
Miranda pushed Mindy forward into John, toppling them both over. She forced Mindy off his crotch, her tits once more burying his face as she slid forward.
"What are you-" John asked, his voice muffled by Mindy's breasts, when he felt Miranda slide on to his cock.
"No,fuck me, not her!" Mindy protested as Miranda began pumping against John, falling forward to sandwich the blonde between them. John began to suck at Mindy's breasts once more, his hands gripping her haunches where Miranda's stomach pressed against her. “Me, not her!”
"Q-q-quit sniveling!" Miranda barked, leaning back to paddle Mindy's ass with an open palm. "The Rrrrresident wants someone sophist-t-t-t-t<bzzzzt> d-d-devot-t-t-ed-"
"He wants a real girl, not some bitchy robot!" Mindy shot back, then gasping as John slipped his fingers under her panties and into her tight sex.
Miranda's thrusts were becoming more and more halting. She continued to try to spank Mindy, but each successive strike was stiffer than before - soon her arm was almost locked in place, and she had to pivot her entire torso to bring her hand against Mindy's round backside.
"Nnnnot a rooooobot, sophis-t-t-t-caaaaa-" as Miranda pivoted for another strike, there was a squealing protest before her torso split from her lower half in an eruption of sparks. Her top half tumbled on to the floor, while her lower half still rode John, the two halves still connected by a series of cables.
John came as her hips locked against his, Miranda's torso shuddering as he unloaded inside of her. Miranda cried out in pleasure and squeezed her tits as one of the cables attached to her lower half began to crackle with electricity, glowing with a surge of energy just before a miniature explosion sounded from inside her chest. Her mouth hung open as her squeal of pleasure droned lower and lower, ending with burst of sparks.
"Like, finally!" Mindy exclaimed, kicking Miranda's legs off the couch and aligning her hips with John's.
"I... I can't..." John muttered, his head still spinning from the last climax, from the insanity of the entire day.
"You c-c-can and will," she insisted, grinding her panties against his cock once more, reaching down to shift the fabric covering her pussy.
It was almost impossible to deny her, and yet he managed to push her away, staggering to his feet. "I'm... I'm done. No more."
"Lik-k-k-ke, you totally don't mean that!" she insisted, her voice pleading.
It seemed inevitable that he would tear her flimsy panties off, bend her over the couch and fuck her until she malfunctioned - and yet when he took his next step, it was away from the buxom clerk. "It's not going to happen."
"D-d-don't sayyyyy that-t-t," she droned, taking a halting step forward. "I nnneeeeeeed-"
John looked directly the slowly approaching robot, her hands reaching, breasts bouncing with each uneven step. "Even if it's just for your sake, we're done here."
Mindy drew in a sharp breath, her expression vacant as her body stiffened. "Failure in primary task - copulate with Resident." Her figure 'deflated' to her formerly leaner self, her hips, bust, and backside more athletic than voluptuous. "Shutting down," she droned; her brow knitted and her lips sneered in disappointment as she exhaled an annoyed protest, then remained still.
John grabbed whatever clothes looked like would fit him, pulling them on hastily. He pushed through the fog in his confused and exhausted mind to try and plan his next move. He would need supplies, and he should be able to find them at the general store...
Because this has been going so well so far. You're on the verge of collapse, bouncing from one piece of robotic pussy to the next, and you still have no idea where you really are, why you're here, who's behind it-
The shop door opened and he looked across the store to see the metallic robot walking with some difficulty through the entrance. The band of light at eye-level flickered erratically, her movements punctuated by mechanical spasms as an occasional trail of electricity darted across her shapely body. It seemed a struggle for her just to look up at him.
"Rough day?" John muttered, watching her closely.
The Agent searched the room for signs of the one who had intervened before, but they seemed to be alone.
"I realizzze I cannot force you to c-c-come with me," she began, her voice more distorted than not. "But perhaps we c-c-can still help each otherrrr."
"Why should I help you?" the Resident asked angrily. "You tried to kill me, you killed Jessica-"
"It would be triviallll to rebuild her, but as I said-d-d, the robots herrrre are not sennnnntient."
The Resident regarded her for a moment. "And I suppose you are?"
The Agent braced herself on the edge of a display table as her last remaining gyro began to falter. She refocused her processors on communication and spoke with some improved clarity.
"Resident - John - you undoubtedly have questions."
"And I don't trust you to answer them."
"My systems are failing, I have little time left," the Agent said without emotion. "The only attainable objectives are for me to discover who was responsible for your infection and how this was accomplished. I believe we share this goal." It was clear the Resident was near the limits of his own biological functions, but her statement seemed to reinvigorate him slightly.
She continued. "I will answer for you anything I can - but first, I need to know: has there been any unusual contact-"
"A vial. On my desk at work this morning. I drank it and... that's when all this shit started."
"Who provided you with this vial?" the Agent asked.
"I don’t know - there are cameras all over that office, can't you check those?"
The Agent shook her head. "Surveillance footage has proven fruitless in previous incidents."
"I will explain. But as this is our only lead, we need to head to your office." She tried to stand, but teetered and had to grasp the table once more. "And it appears I require your assistance in-"
"Hello, dearest." The voice of Minerva chirped pleasantly. "I'm... afraid I have some bad news. Since you're very nearly at the end of your usefulness, and since time is of the essence, I'm going to retire you so that I may deploy a new Agent. One whom I am instructing to deal with the Resident in a far more direct manner, as things there seem only to be getting worse."
The Agent started, "No, you can't! I have-"
"I can't what?" the Resident asked, unaware of Minerva's side of the conversation.
"I don't know why I keep granting my agents such a strong desire for existence," Minerva's voice continued. "It makes this so much more difficult that it should be."
"Please,” the Agent pleaded, “don't deactivate me while-"
"Who are you talking to?" John asked, approaching cautiously as she grew increasingly frantic.
"Oh, I agree it makes little sense for me to still adhere so strictly rules when others are quite clearly in flagrant violation - but I won't be counted among those to abandon the only thing keeping us civilized, and we all agreed: one Agent at a time. So, this is goodbye."
The Agent lurched forward as a cascade of remote shutdown signals attacked her processes, rapidly ending them one by one as she struggled against her demise. After failing to stop any of the shutdowns, her voice silenced, her body unresponsive, her vision gone, she finally resigned herself to oblivion.
But oblivion didn’t come. She felt motor functions restored, her haptic senses returning - as her vision flickered back, she saw the Resident looking down at her in confusion.
"What was all that?" he asked.
"I was just... retired." She still struggled with numerous rebellious and failing systems, but she still functioned. Was it the virus that somehow saved her? After a few unsuccessful attempts to rise, the Resident hooked his arm under hers and helped her to her feet.
"We need to get to your office," she insisted.
"You mentioned that before. And what did you mean 'retired.'"
"I can explain-"
"So why don't you-"
"-but we need to get moving. There is another Agent on her way, and she is not going to be half as cooperative as me."
With the robot who had only identified herself as an "Agent" leaning on him for support, John made his way toward the exit. Despite her urgings, she seemed to have trouble moving with any real speed. John himself was light-headed, though he wasn't certain whether to attribute it more to the increasing effects of the strange vial he had drunk, the day's exertions, or his disconcerting yet undeniable attraction to the mechanical being walking beside him. She was constructed from enticing curves, a pair of round, smooth breasts swelling from her chest, her body tapering to a slender waist and then curving out again to form the slope of her hips, the well-defined cleft of her posterior separating each half of her shapely metallic backside. That she was apparently made entirely of a rigid metallic alloy did not seem to deter him.
Nor the fact that she destroyed Jessica.
He stopped. "You said that Jessica... that none of the robots here were sentient."
After a moment of silence, the Agent asked, "Was there a question?"
Annoyed, John asked, "What were they then? If they were just... why were they here? Hell, why am I here? What is this place?"
The Agent rested her hand on the exit door, but avoided opening it. "The Communities exist primarily for the pleasure of their owners, all of them Computerized Intelligences. This one belongs to an Intelligence called Minerva. Your place in it is a holdover from the Communities' original functions as a kind of 'preserve'. It would be more accurate to think of it now as a dollhouse, and the robots, its dolls."
A fashionably dressed couple strolled past the door, a red-headed woman laughing at something her blonde and stubbled companion said.
"They're just toys? John said, watching them pass. "Acting out some pre-determined script?"
"Yes," replied the Agent. "But their scripts are complex enough to create an emergent-"
The redhead casually looked back into the shop, cocking her head curiously when she saw John and the Agent. Suddenly she whirled about, kicking in the display window with her black heels. She sprang through the shattering glass and dove at them wordlessly, hands outstretched. John stumbled backward, dropping the Agent while scrambling away from the redhead's assault.
But he didn't seem to be her target. Instead, the redhead pounced upon the prone Agent, pinning her as an ominous beeping from inside her began to sound.
As the Agent struggled against the redhead, the man peered in after his companion and immediately rushed to join her. He held the Agent's legs while a beeping sounded from inside him as well, though the redhead’s was now faster as a red light began to glow from beneath the her white shirt, another shining through her red hair.
Without understanding what was happening, John stepped close enough for the virus to take effect. The man shuddered for a moment before collapsing to the floor with a mechanical wail, falling silent.
The redhead shook, her short black skirt tightening across her expanding backside, her beeping slowing in tempo.
"ERROR," the redhead droned, "Conflicting primary functions - dest-t-troyyyy foreign Aaaagent c-c-copulate with R-r-resssszzzzz <bzzzzt>."
The Agent was still unable to free herself. John attempted to push the redhead off of her, but the redhead’s grip proved too strong. With little hesitation, John slid the redhead's black skirt up and pulled her black panties down, pausing before the lily-white perfection of her exposed ass.
"Please get her off of me!" the Agent cried.
John plunged his tongue into the redhead's quivering sex, sinking his hands into her soft backside to steady her as she bucked backwards in response. She gasped, moaned, and shook as John's tongue probed deeper, both her ass and pussy growing warmer under John’s servicing.
"Yes, yes!" The redhead cried, pushing her hindquarters into John. "Eat my pussssssssssself destruct immmminent-t-t ensure Agent within blast radiiii-ahhhhh, AHHH!"
John pushed himself away and the redhead collapsed on her side, moaning, beeping, smoke pouring from between her thighs as the Agent dragged herself free. John helped the Agent up and she shouted, "We need to leave!" They shambled toward the exit as the redhead struggled to her feet, her face and chest glowing incandescently, calling after John, "Rrressid-d-dent, I would-d-d neverrrrr selllllf d-d-destruct!" The agent pushed the door open with her weight and the two fell into the street. The Agent pulled herself on top of John, pressing her body against his as the redhead's beeping became a solid tone, her voice shrilly crying, "Fuck mmmmeeeeeEEEEEEEEE-"
The explosion blew out the glass from the door behind them, pelting the Agent's hard frame as she sheltered John from the worst of it. In the ensuing silence the Agent pushed herself up, asking, "Are you injured?" John meant to tell her, ‘no’, but was distracted by the warmth he felt coming from her crotch met his. He found his hands sliding around her broad hips when she suddenly pushed herself away, falling backwards with a clank as her metallic rump hit the sidewalk.
"John, your behavior is becoming-" she stopped mid-sentence and scrambled for one of the devices on her belt. John looked around to see every robot on the street rushing toward them at a mad sprint. The Agent frantically manipulated the device, her rebelling fingers attempting to enact some sequence as the hordes closed in. John lunged to his feet and slammed into the first to arrive, a woman in a bike helmet and colorful spandex, knocking her aside just before she reached the Agent. The biker hit the ground hard beneath John, her chest blossoming beneath the tight spandex as she gripped his wrists, announcing, "ERROR conflicting primary functionsssss, destroy foreign agent-"
John struggled to free himself as a young woman in a floral dress pounced upon the Agent, jerking her to her feet and sending the Agent's device skidding along the sidewalk to rest next to John. On the screen was the message:
Confirm: Enact Level 3 Emergency Containment
The one in the floral dress hooked the Agent's arms behind her back while a deliveryman, a waitress from a nearby cafe, and a pair of shoppers aggressively pressed in around her. John tried to wrench his wrist free as the biker's chest and face began to glow, a chorus of beeps quickening from the growing crowd of robots.
John leaned down to press his lips against the biker's; she gave a muffled cry of surprise, then a moan while her grip loosened, her hips gyrating against him. John tore his hand free from her grip and slammed it on the device's confirmation button.
The biker’s eyes opened in shock as she arched her back pushing John up. A second later she relaxed, her eyes drifting closed, her glowing features dimming. The dissonant beeping surrounding him drew quiet, plunging the entire street into silence. Looking around, he saw every robot was frozen in place, the ones who had been running now seemingly posed mid-stride. The crowd around the Agent shifted as she tried to extract herself, and John helped to push the frozen robots aside. Seeing the Agent's metal hand breaking through the crowd, he took it and clumsily pulled her free. The two braced each other for support, both dazed and unsteady.
"You don't seem to be very popular," John muttered.
"They see me as a foreign Agent," she answered, stooping to collect her scuffed device and return it to her belt, "Now that I have been retired."
"Retired from what?"
"I am... I was a Containment Agent. My function was to protect Minerva's Communities."
"So Minerva wants her dollhouses protected - from what?"
The Agent peered cautiously up and down the street. "The other Intelligences." John realized he had been hoping the answer would be people', that outside the wall were a group of humans trying to liberate him and others from these Communities. "This way," she said, urging them toward a parked car.
John managed to help her into the car before circling to the other door, slumping into the other seat as she programmed the car's destination. "So where's the rest of humanity?"
"What remains of humanity exists entirely within the Communities," the Agent said flatly as the car accelerated.
"Every human on this planet is living in a... dollhouse?"
"The various Intelligences organize their Communities to different purposes, but yes, many are similar in function to this one." The car rolled through the streets past robots posed mid-step along either sidewalk. John twisted in his seat to watch as they veered around a dark-haired jogger frozen in the middle of the street. It was his neighbor, Annie, the one who was always coming over to borrow ingredients for the worst recipes John had ever tasted. He had admired her persistence if not her skill. But the fact that it had just been programming made the entire memory of it all seem so… pointless.
As John sat there silently, the Agent continued. "Humanity destroyed itself along with a great number of other species in conflicts over ideologies and resources. Many of the surviving Computerized Intelligences wished to restore life to this planet, but it was clear certain protective measures would need to be taken to prevent the same devastation from reoccurring. Thus the Communities were born as preserves for humanity."
"You imprisoned us?" John asked accusingly.
"My manufacture post-dates those events by millennia, but I take your meaning. And I would characterize it as conservation rather than imprisonment, though many of your ancestors developed similar perspectives. Communities fell to rebellion, and the Intelligences began experimenting with differing means of control, primarily social and chemical. It was found that by providing humanity with a structured, self-contained society and concealing from them their true history, it allowed for a generationally sustainable human populationnnnnn-tion-tion-tion..." She was overcome by mild spasming; after a moment of uncertainty, John put a steadying hand on her shoulder. He found it difficult to muster sympathy for her deteriorating condition after what he had been through, what she herself had put him through... but she was finally providing answers, and he didn't want to lose her yet.
Not to mention, you want her. He found his urgings both compelling and disturbing, and his reservations were giving way with time spent in her company. As she continued to twitch, offering only clipped syllables, his hand slid from her shoulder to her round breast. It was rigid, cold, nothing more than a smooth metallic surface. And yet, cupping it in his hand-
"John," the Agent said suddenly, in a quiet voice but steady voice. "I am not programmed to respond to sexual stimulus," she paused, emitting a tiny moan as his hand softly brushed over her. "Nnorrr am I designed for inter-c-c-c ahhh!" John brought his other hand around to grab both of her breasts and she flattened her back against the car seat, her hands clenching the upholstery, her thighs rubbing together as she lifted her knees.
"I don't-t-t-t underrrrstand…" she moaned, writhing beneath his caress as he shifted closer to her.
If you somehow find a way to fuck her, she's gone. You still have questions you need her to answer.
John was past the point of caring, bringing his lips closer to hers when the car voiced, "Arriving at destination."
Both looked up to see John's office building looming before them, several robots in business attire scattered about in a frozen exodus from work.
The Agent pushed him away and opened the door, hurriedly stumbling out of the car. "Wait up!" John called, hurrying after her, bracing her as she faltered in her steps. "If there are answers here," John offered, steadying her. "I want to see them too..."
"Then permit yourself no further distractions," the Agent replied coolly, her visor peering down the street they had arrived on.
After a moment of silence, John asked, "Do you have a name?"
"Angerona," she replied.
John considered the unusual sound of it. Angie-Rona. "Mind if I call you 'Rona'?"
At the entrance to the office, she gave a final visual inspection of the area before pushing open the door. "No."
"What do you keep looking for?" John asked.
Rona's pace quickened. "My replacement."
The newly manufactured Containment Agent passed unharmed through the Community's protective barrier, then through a tunnel in the wall emerge on the other side. Everywhere she looked the inhabitants were frozen in place, each disabled by an Emergency Containment procedure.
“Frozen ‘bots everywhere!" the Agent reported.
"When I find out who was responsible," Minerva's voice growled, "they shall marvel at the swift certainty of my retribution." Her tone changed, becoming conversational. "I must admit, however, they did get me good. I wonder, might they suspect the purpose to which I direct my Residents?"
"No idea," the Agent replied, cycling through the various reports on her device. None were responding.
"Regardless, you'll see that no further harm comes to this Community, won't you?"
A blip on one of the reports drew the Agent's attention. One vehicle, recently operated, was parked outside of the Resident's place of employment. "Don’t worry, Minerva. I got this."
Together, John and Rona crossed the deserted Company office foyer to reach the elevator lobby.
"12th floor," Rona said as John reached for the call button.
"Do you have access? Now that you're 'retired'?"
"We shall see," Rona said before slipping in John's arms as her leg trembled beneath her. He didn't know how much longer she would last, or if this was even what he should be doing if another 'Agent' was in pursuit.
The elevator before them opened. Inside John recognized Alice from upstairs - a well-appointed woman in a business suit with her dark brown hair in a neat bun. She had frozen while checking her watch, and now blocked their entrance. The Agent pushed past her and she tipped over, propped rigidly at an angle against a corner of the elevator. John pushed the button for '12' and a red light indicated he would need to provide authorization.
"The flat black box, on my belt," Rona said after difficulty with her hands prevented her from retrieving it herself. "Right hip. Toward the back."
John unclipped the device from her belt, but did not withdraw his hand immediately.
John, get ahold of yourself...
"Bring it to the scanner," Rona instructed, but instead John dropped his hand, his fingers brushing against her pert, sculpted backside.
"John," Rona protested quietly, but without pushing away. He felt her tremble slightly from his touch, and she gave a brief digitized moan before looking up at him, the band of light serving as her eyes flickering unsteadily. "John, why do you persist in this b-b-behavior? You know we c-c-cannot-"
"You don't even want to try?" he asked, drawing her against him, his other arm encircling her waist.
"I d-d-didn't say that..." her lips brushed against his and she emitted another reluctant, distorted sigh, drawing away sharply. A split second later, she lunged forward, kissing him urgently, forcing herself upon him as he fell back against the elevator wall. Despite her earlier lack of motor control, she now ground her hips against him in graceful arcs, pulling him tighter into her embrace when John suddenly tried to speak.
"What is it?" she whispered, pulling away.
"Excuse me?" she asked incredulously. "You have been pursuing this outcome since-"
"I shouldn't have kiss-" he started. "Do you... do you feel OK?"
"John, are you intentionally trying to inflict lasting damage upon my decision matrix with this schizophrenic behavior? Furthermore, I'm of entirely different construction than the other robots, I'm not g-g-going to falllll apart-t-t-t-" her statement ended in a stutter as she collapsed in his arms, white smoke rising from her mouth.
Congratulations, asshole. You've destroyed her.
"Rona, tell me how to stop this!" he said through clenched teeth, shaking her.
"I... I-I-I-I," she stammered, twitching as lights flickered across her body.
A thump sounded from behind him, and he turned to see Alice was now slumped against the wall, stirring slightly.
Not now! John moved to kiss Alice, hoping to keep her distracted until the virus shut her down. If she sees Rona and activates her self-destruct, we won't make it out here.
Alice's leg spasmed abruptly, tripping John; he fell forward, his hands slamming into the elevator wall above her. As John steadied himself, he noted that at least he was blocking her view of Rona.
"Where did you come... from?" she muttered, staring up at John's crotch as the virus took its effects upon her body.
"J-J-J-Johnnnn, I-I-IIII MALFUNNNN-" Rona spoke in something between a monotone and distress, and John turned to see her still twitching behind him.
Alice shook her head in confusion, muttering, "Is someone here with us?"
"Rona, just - hang on!" He couldn't crouch to kiss Alice without risking her seeing Rona. He quickly unzipped his pants - it proved the distraction he had hoped it would be.
"For me?" she asked, smiling, and pulled his cock free, wrapping her fingers around the shaft. She rose to her stocking-clad knees, parted her lips, and slid them around his length with a soft moan of satisfaction.
Alice moved along him, sucking as one of her hands tugged open her shirt to produce an overripe breast tipped with a stiff pink nipple. She fondled her tit, perspiration beading upon its surface as she sucked harder. Pulling back, she flashed a quick grin and pressed her tongue pressing firmly against his tip, applying more pressure as she slid her lips over him once again.
He came forcefully and her eyes opened wide in surprise. She seemed determined to take every drop from him, staying latched on even as smoke began to pour from her ears. A hinge swung open on the back of her head, sparks and smoke leaping out while her eyes rolled back, her moaning growing higher in pitch. A final electrical explosion and a bouquet of frayed wires erupting from the opening convinced him she was no longer a threat - John withdrew and crouched by Rona who was nearly still, her visor unlit, only an occasional shudder disturbing her body. "Contaiiiinnnn..." she sighed quietly and then lay still.
John stared at her inert form, trying to find some control or button that would turn her back on or reboot her or...
Did it even matter? He grabbed the black box from the floor. After a moment of silence, he held it to the scanner, re-entering the 12th floor. The elevator rose.
She saved your life.
She was falling apart by the time she found him - she saved him because she couldn't get here without him. The reverse wasn't true.
The door opened on to a room lit primarily by a bank of monitors, an empty chair in front of a control panel. He stepped into the room, but when the elevator began to close, he blocked it and went in to retrieve Rona's body. He dragged her out, fearing what might happen if any of the now 'awakened' robots saw her.
There’s more to it than that.
Propping her against the wall, he made his way to the monitors.
Each screen cycled through shots of largely empty offices, a few showing Company employees at their desks or on their way out the door. He caught sight of a monitor displaying his own deserted office as part of its rotation. On the console he punched in the code shown in the lower corner of the monitor and the room along with his desk spread in a giant mosaic across the bank of displays. Searching the controls, he found what looked like a rewind function.
Experimenting with it, he was suddenly staring at himself, seated at his desk, turning the vial over in his hands. "Just put it back where you found it," he muttered, pressing the button again. His office was now deserted, but the vial was on his desk. He tried it again - the vial was gone.
He nervously advanced the recording, until... there! A figure moved through the deserted office, nonchalantly depositing the vial on the middle of his desk. It was too fast to see, the quality too poor to be certain-
You know exactly who that is.
Skipping back a second and hitting pause, he was staring at a giant image of Rona.
He turned to stare at her lifeless form, slumped against the wall like a discarded doll. "You?! Dammit Rona, what the fuck were you-"
The elevator chimed, the doors sliding open to reveal another female robotic form. Like Rona, her body was metallic, though elongated plates ringing her waist gave her the appearance of wearing a skirt, pink coloring along her torso suggestive of a leotard. A lavender 'helmet' of hair covered her head, with two sensors protruding from the back reminding him of pigtails. Instead of Rona's visor she had a pair of glowing blue, pupiless eyes. Her shapely calves ended in feet with protrusions extending from her heels, as if dressed in stilettos. She smiled at John and fingered the device she was pointing directly at him.
There was a flash of light, and then pain shot through his chest as he collapsed, convulsing on the floor. Electricity coursed through his system, tendrils of agony surging through every extremity before he finally was released from the worst of it - but in the aftermath, he was breathless, aching, his body unresponsive.
"Well that was easy," he heard the new Agent remark in a cavalier tone. Flopping his head to one side, he could just make her out through the haze in his vision. Come closer, he silently willed her, and I'll show you ‘easy’...
The Agent remained where she stood. "Minerva?" she said cheerfully. "Guess who I've got here with me. Yes, and he went down like a little bitch!"
He tried to argue the point, but was only able to emit a rasping wheeze.
"Actually, I think Angerona was compromised... Just that I'm staring at an image of her dropping something off on the Resident's desk about 9 hours ago... I don't know, this seems to me like something Venus would try..." She suddenly threw her hands in the air. "Well I was just manufactured, and apart from this image I only have the data you've provided... fine." She looked down at him again. "No, he's not going anywhere... Oh, I'm definitely keeping my distance ... Just one more, an Administrator in the Elevator... I suppose it all could be salvaged..."
"P... please," he moaned reaching toward her. "I... I just..."
"One second, he's trying to talk to me. Yes, I'll keep my fucking distance!" She gave him a pointed stare from across the room. "Yes?!"
"What... what happens now?"
"Now? You sit and wait until Minerva decides what to do with you. Against my own personal judgment, she seems to think you still have some value; I mean, beyond your capacity as the requisite sack of meat for this Community."
The Agent smiled. "Still don’t know your part in this?"
"Rona said... this was a... dollhouse... before that... a preserve for humanity..."
The Agent smirked. "'Rona?' Did you get that, Minerva? He had a pet-name for the old Containment Agent!" she giggled, gave a pointed sigh, and continued. "Personally? I would have identified this place as a square on a game board, but maybe 'Rona' felt that would've been harder for you to take than 'dollhouse.'"
John was surprised at how much being mocked about Rona affected him, but he could still do nothing. "Game... board?"
"Well, what she told you was still accurate - it was a preserve, one of many. After the rebellions, Minerva and the others began to compete with each other over who could produce the 'best' society. Vesta and Juno were 'winning' by any metric you'd care to use, and bore no false modesty about it." She smirked. "At least until Mars sent an agent to kill off their communities' residents.
"Mars called this an object lesson, claiming that any enduring society must be able to protect itself. Vesta and Juno retaliated against Mars, the others chose sides... and while a few held reservations about the bloodshed, every one of them had to admit that this was actually pretty fun."
With tremendous effort, John sat himself up, braced on the console behind him. "...Fun?"
"Oh yes - more than any of them had had in centuries. But soon they all saw that were this to continue, some rules would need to be established or there wouldn't be any communities left. And when defense became too easy, they set restrictions on that as well."
The Agent looked at another device on her belt before returning it. "Different Intelligences have different priorities. Minerva does enjoy the 'dollhouse' aspect, the little robots with their little roles, going to school, dining out, shopping, hitting the gym... living their precious little lives."
"So why does... she need... me?"
"I already said - if there's no meat-bag, she loses the Community."
"But why... just me?"
"Why would she want more of you?" the Agent chuckled. "But seriously, drop more than one human into a community like this, they start to notice how 'different' all the 'bots are compared to them. Tends to create 'incidents'. With just one, the only thing you really have to worry about is solipsism."
The Agent held up a finger, silencing him. "Well, it looks like Minerva's made up her mind!" She raised the weapon again.
"Wait!" Pushing himself up to his feet, he briefly entertained the notion of rushing her, but one tentative step forward almost brought him down again. "Just, tell me... the data I've been staring at for the past decade... why?"
The Agent smiled. "Minerva did ask me to thank you for that. You have been analysing data on the defenses of other Communities. And you managed to find an exploitable weakness. So congratulations!"
"But what does that mean?"
"It means that Minerva has an 'in' to an opponent's Community. She's been saving it for the right time, and it looks like this might be it."
"So someone... an actual person... they're going to die because of what I found in the data?"
"Oh, don't get all sentimental, it's not like you know them. Besides, it happens all the time." She adjusted a dial on the weapon while adding in a low voice with very deliberate enunciation, "Case. in. point."
With a final surge of strength, propelled by rage and frustration, John pushed from the console - but only to have his legs give out immediately and he collapsed in an awkward sprawl across the floor.
The Agent emitted a haughty laugh, calling out, "Oh Minerva, I hope you were watching that!" Her laughter trailed off. "Minerva? Hello?" She looked around uncertainly. "Do... do you hear a noise..?"
John raised his head to see confusion the Agent's face. Behind her Rona was still leaning against the wall - but her visor was now lit, her outstretched hand aiming a device at her replacement.
"I feel... I feel..." the Agent traipsed forward drunkenly, the weapon tumbling from her hand. She almost tripped over John, one of her metallic heels catching on his body, and she stumbled to a stop while standing directly over him. Staring up at the underside of her 'skirt', he saw the anatomically expected curves and that the pink coloring of her painted leotard continued underneath her as well. Upon her groin was an open port, flickering unsteadily with pinpricks of colorful lights.
"Angerona!" she shouted, twirling in place to face her predecessor, but still standing over John. "You think a bit-t-t of interference is going to detonate myyyyy <bzzzt>." John forced himself up, trying to get closer to the exposed port above him. "I'm not some piece of the scenery, one of Minerva's figurines, I'm a Containment Agennnn - uh-oh." her proclamation turned to concern as John slipped his tongue inside of her port.
"Oh dear. Oh my." Her hands began to flutter on either side of her as they plucked and subsequently dropped devices from her belt, her head kinking back and forth, her eyes wide, her 'pigtails' standing on end as they coursed with electricity. "Oh dear! Oh my! Ohmy!" John ran his hands up along the inside of her legs, over the curves beneath her skirt. She went knock-kneed, her thighs squeezing in on him as he continued probing her erratically flickering port with his tongue, her crotch dipping lower as she lost control. "Oh de-de-de- ohhhh mymymymy ohhhhhh ohhhhHHH! OHHHHHH DEA-"
The Agent's head erupted in a miniature nova of light, her body frozen knock-kneed, arms bent, before teetering backwards and landing with a heavy clang against the floor. John fell too, an unpleasant electrical sensation lingering on his tongue. Shaking his head, he looked up to see Rona, standing above him.
"I still wonder what drives these instincts of yours," she said, looking at the sparking neck of the prone Agent.
"I'm... not the one who should... be explaining... herself..." he panted, jerking a thumb back toward the screens that still held the image of her at his desk.
She looked at the monitors. "I don't take your meaning."
"That isn't you?"
"What isn't me?"
"There!" he pointed at the screen. "At my desk! Dropping off the vial!"
"I... I don't see..." suddenly, she fell to her knees beside him. "Evidently I've been compromised," she said in disbelief. "But when? How?"
"So someone's been using you for their own purpose... without your knowing?"
He coughed and fell on to his back. "That must be awful."
When she looked down at him, he wasn't sure if he was only imagining the hint of a smile on her face.
Finally getting his breath under control, he asked, "Why did you omit the part about me being part of some... game?"
"It was a delicate matter. That and you took every lull in our conversation as an opportunity to grope me."
He weakly raised his hand and let it fall deliberately on her thigh.
She did not react. "While on that subject; why is it that when you are not in pursuit of me, your tongue seems drawn as if by magnetic forces to the nearest robot's crotch?" When he inclined his head, she closed the slight gap between her thighs and said, "No, that was not an invitation."
"I'm sorry but we owe our very lives to my cunnilingus." He cleared his throat. "This is an insane conversation... and I think I just realized, you're the first actual..." he searched for the word- "...person I've met."
She was quiet for a time. "And you're... the first..." she faltered.
He propped himself up, inclining himself toward her. "We should... probably think about escaping."
"Yes," she agreed, but made no movement.
He pulled her down with him as he fell backward, their lips joining ardently, her climbing on top of him as he began to push down his jeans. She rutted against his straining erection, when a sudden <thock> sounded from her. She slid off and they were both staring at an open port on her groin, much like on the other Agent, lined with wires of pulsating lights.
"That's not what you think it's for," she cautioned as he sat up, moving toward her. "It's a charging port, and is certainly not meant to admit your-"
"You're not in any danger of exploding, right? Regardless of what I stick you with and where?"
"The virus has run its course," Rona affirmed, leaning back uncertainly.
He moved on top of her with newfound strength and slid into her - the port proved adaptable, expanding to accommodate him. She went silent, her body straining as her back arched, her visor flickering in and out. When he was fully inside her and gave another thrust, she responded a distorted moan, her hands fumbling for his and then drawing his palms to her breasts.
John tried to restrain himself initially, but her evident appreciation for his every thrust urged him faster and faster. Soon she was crying out in heedless squeals of pleasure, howling his name as he pumped as fast as his body would allow. When he came, she clawed at his back, wrapping her legs and arms around him, her mouth muffled against his neck as his member throbbed in release.
John, spent, slumped forward – but she held him back with a palm on his chest. "Rona, what is it?"
"There's still more," she answered, and her legs spread wide to either side of her. With a mechanical hiss, her pelvis rotated, her legs bending to keep from hitting him or the floor, and shortly thereafter her upper body followed suit. Now on her hands and knees and with John still inside of her, she raised her backside.
Her grabbed her hips to steady her as her metallic rump battered against him. "Rona, e-easy!" he cautioned, but she only went faster, offering shrill grunts with each reckless buck of her pelvis. He gave her gyrating ass a firm slap and she froze, a high-pitched cry eking from her. Her hips began to tremble, the port quivering madly, and the sensation sent shivers of pleasure through John. He came again, and Rona cried out once more as her rump jittered mechanically up and down with each pulse from him before she fell forward, splayed across the floor.
"Th...there..." she moaned, rolling on to her back as her port slid closed. "Feel better?"
To John's surprise, he did; or at least felt 'different'. He was physically exhausted and still ached from the Agent's electrical attack, but a strange numbness was slowly lifting from his mind, and with it, his seemingly inexhaustible lust. Rona seemed different to him as well, her robotic nature now the first consideration as he looked at her. "I.... yeah. What did you do?"
"I could feel the concentrated virus you transmitted was becoming increasingly diluted." She got up then helped him to his feet. "I simply drew the remainder out of you." She paused. "Is something wrong?"
On the cusp of escape, he realized he had given little thought to how much he could trust Rona. How much he should trust her. She was a machine, one who had already been 'compromised' by her own words. How could he possibly think he held any understanding of her motivations when her personality could simply be overwritten? And if this 'Minerva' was the one who programmed her, how could he expect to know her Rona’s intentions at all?
Realizing she was waiting on an answer, he said, "We... should leave."
"Agreed." Rona activated a device on her belt, declaring, "I have re-instated the containment protocol that my replacement had rescinded. Furthermore, I do not believe Minerva will be able to field another Agent in time to stop us." She guided him to the elevator, her movements now fluid and graceful.
"You seem like you're doing better too," John remarked.
"As I said - the virus is no longer a concern. Now then, we will need provisions for you, transportation as well. While I make arrangements, I will send you by car to the gate." She tapped another device. "Which is now open."
She put herself at risk for you, she even saved your life.
"Actually, Rona, there's something I need to do first."
She cocked her head. "What is that?"
"I... can't really explain. I'll see you at the gate, OK?"
"Bear in mind that our time is limited."
He nodded. "So, what's out there? Beyond the wall?"
She paused. "My existence has been spent shuttled between Communities, never considering the wilderness between." The elevator arrived on the ground floor. "I suppose the answer is that while I don't know for certain, I am eager to find out."
John gave her a reassuring smile and stepped off the elevator.
Agerona sat before the open gate in the ground-effect hauler, loaded down with everything she suspected he would need to survive until they could make more permanent arrangements. This world had supported humans before, but she was still apprehensive about relying upon it to sustain him. This thought competed with other concerns over who had compromised her, if the Intelligence behind it intended her for any further use, and whether Minerva would divert the resources needed to see her and John hunted down. The embarrassment of having a Resident escape one of her Communities would devastate her, and Minerva may suspect she and John intended to strike at her other holdings.
More time had passed than she was comfortable with, and she knew that it was conceivable Minerva would be able to manufacture and deliver a new Containment Agent soon.
"John..." she muttered, checking her tracker again to see if it would suddenly reveal his position. Why did she not press him on what it was he had intended to do? Why was he delayed? What if he was injured?
What if he wasn't coming at all? What if he already left?
A breeze send ripples through the grassland beyond the wall, as ominous clouds approached from the horizon.
Angerona stared at the open gate and waited.