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Subject: {ASSM} RP: the Michael Collins Anthology (ASFR, ScFi, act, rom, adv) [4/26]
Date: Wed,  4 Jul 2001 09:10:05 -0400
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4. Help

     Michael was definitely in a predicament, now.

     For a machine that has no digestive system, no urinary tract, how
     could he be expected to give urine for a urinalysis which would
     prove that he wasn't consuming drugs?

     Michael couldn't help it, aware now of some of his abilities, that
     he was more productive than his human colleagues.

     He did have a plan, though, but the more he thought about it, the
     more disgusted he became.

     ------------------------------------------------------------------

He and Arnie both entered his house, and Michael set his keys down on the
counter in his kitchen. He leaned back against the sink counter and watched
Arnie get settled.

``Wassup, dude!'' he asked, plopping himself down at the bar in the kitchen.

``Do you do any drugs?'' Michael asked him. ``I mean any. Are you also on
any prescription medications?''

``No, man! I only act high,'' he said. ``I'm not on any drugs either.''

``Good,'' he told him. Michael could tell he wasn't lying - his face
twitched slightly when he's lying and he can't control it.

``Drink this,'' he told him; handing him a glass of water that he had just
poured. ``Drink it fast.''

Arnie finished the glass in a few seconds and set it back down on the bar.
``What was that all about?'' he genuinely asked.

``Shut up and drink,'' Michael said, giving Arnie yet another glass, as he
filled the one he just finished back up.

This process ensued for the next 20 or so minutes. As Arnie started to slow
down, Michael urged him to go faster.

``Be right back, need to take a piss,'' he told him after he finished the
35th glass.

``Sit down!'' Michael yelled. ``You aren't going anywhere!'' he told him.
Arnie could tell he was serious.

After about the 15th glass from the second round; Arnie got up.

``Dude, I have got to take a piss or I'm going to burst!'' he yelled.

Michael handed him an empty gallon milk jug. ``Go in here,'' he told him.

``You're not serious,'' he asked.

He shoved the jug at him. ``Relieve yourself in there.''

Arnie knew he didn't have much choice and went into the bathroom, with the
jug in hand. Several minutes later, an audible sigh was heard. He opened the
door and handed Michael a half-filled jug of light yellow urine.

``Is that all?'' he asked him. ``You drank 4.375 gallons of water earlier.
There should be more.''

``Mike, the human body absorbs some water,'' he said. ``I'll have to go
again, soon, I'm sure.''

Michael capped the jug and put it into the garage.

He and Arnie went into the living room and watched some TV.

Sure enough, 12 minutes later, Arnie said he had to go, again.

He got the jug out of the garage, and handed it to him in the bathroom.
Michael stood there, waiting for him to proceed draining his bladder.

``Aren't you going to leave?'' he asked me.

``No, this is fascinating.''

Arnie took the jug abruptly from him and turned his back. A steady stream of
liquid could be heard pouring into the half-filled plastic container. Arnie
audibly struggled as the stream stopped. Capping the lid, he handed Michael
a now full gallon milk jug filled with his urine.

As Michael left the room to stow the container, and put the glasses in the
dish washer, more liquid could be heard streaming into the toilet from the
bathroom.

Michael went back into the living room. Several minutes later, Arnie
reappeared; his face bestowed with a sign of relief.

``You drank a clear liquid, and it comes out yellow,'' he told him. ``Why is
that?''

Visibly uncomfortable, Arnie struggled as he tried to think of the words to
say.

``Urine is waste,'' he told him. ``The water hydrate us, but also flush out
toxins and other shit out of our bodies. I guess the yellow is the other
shit. Would you mind telling me what's going on?''

Michael turned off the TV and reclined back in his chair.

``Scott wants me to take a drug test tomorrow,'' he told him.

``Ah! Yuri-nalisis,'' he replied.

``You got it.''

``So this means you're,'' he said, pausing. ``You're gonna drink it?'' he
continued slowly. ``YUCK!''

``My systems have no waste to process. Any liquid I intake gets expunged
without processing.'' I explained.

``This explains why your piss smells of stale coffee sometimes when we're in
the bathroom together,'' he recalled.

``I didn't think it was common for men to go around smelling the piss of
their bathroom patrons,'' he said jeeringly.

``It's not!'' Arnie said, defending himself. ``It's just that yours is
strong sometimes. This explains it.''

Arnie stayed for a few more minutes and then left to go home. Shortly
afterwards, Julie's car pulled up in the driveway.

``Mike?'' she said concerned, as she entered the kitchen.

``In here hon.''

``Is anything wrong,'' she asked. ``You're home awful early.''

``Nope, finished up early at work. How was your day?''

``Same old bullshit,'' she said, fixing herself a glass of water. ``Fine,''
she said, getting some ice out of the freezer.

``Could you fix me a glass as well,'' Michael asked her; still in the
kitchen.

Julie walked into the living room to join him, two glasses of water in hand.
She handed one to him, as she took the other and sat down on the couch.

Michael poured the entire glass into his mouth and ingested it.

Shortly after setting the glass back down, green text appeared, seemingly in
mid air. The text read:

                          FLUID RESERVOIR: 18% FULL

``That was weird,'' he said aloud.

``What?''

``My fluid reservoir is 18% full,''

``How do you know that,'' she asked.

``Green text flashed in mid air and told me.''

``Wild,'' she said. ``Here, have the rest of mine,'' she suggested; handing
him her glass.

Again, he poured the remaining contents of her glass into his mouth and down
his throat without swallowing.

A second or two later, the same text appeared in thin air:

                          FLUID RESERVOIR: 34% FULL

``34%'' he told her as he read the text.

``Cool!'' she said energetically; running into the kitchen with his empty
glass, filling it back up.

Michael thought this was kind of fun, too. This was something new that was
happening to him.

Eagerly he drank the water down. Julie was already back in the kitchen
filling up her glass again. He got up to be in the kitchen with her; after
all, it made no sense for her to keep running back and forth.

``54%'' he read the status message aloud.

She began to hand him another glass when he motioned for her to stop.

Michael reached over to the sink to grab the spray hose; turned on the
faucet, and put the hose in his mouth.

Shortly thereafter, red text appeared in front of him:

                          FLUID RESERVOIR: 95% FULL

``This is different,'' he told her. ``The text is red, now; and it says
95%.''

``What happens when you reach 100?'' she genuinely asked.

``I'm not sure.''

She handed Michael the still full glass of water she was holding, and he
attempted to pour it down his throat. I say attempted, because he only got
about 33% of it down; the rest spilled out of his mouth.

Michael was laughing, and tried to talk; as still more liquid was spilling
out of his mouth, but he could only mouth the words; nothing was heard.

Just then, flashing red text appeared in front of him:

                     FLUID RESERVOIR: FULL - EXPUNGE NOW

He walked to the bathroom, and motioned for Julie to follow. Michael
unzipped his pants, and aimed his cock into the bowl. Strangely, he didn't
have any urge to go to the bathroom. A small pump started inside his torso,
and a strong, steady stream of water flowed out of him.

A few seconds later, he found he was able to talk, and started to explain to
her what just happened, while he was still pouring more and more fluid into
the toilet.

``Too wild,'' she said. Leaving the bathroom to let him finish.

A moment later he finished, and flushed the toilet. Walking back into the
living room, he found Julie had relocated herself to his chair; so he laid
down on the couch.

``2.4 liters,'' he told her. ``2.4 liters is how much I expunged.''

``Awesome! You could put out a small fire with that,'' she said, giggling.

``Actually, I think it was 2 liters; and the other .4 came from the
overflow.''

``Makes sense,'' she said, flipping the TV to the news.

Michael picked up the copy of Al Gore's book about the environment and
started flipping through the pages. Julie watched the news for a little
more, then got up to go to the kitchen to fix some dinner.

``Would you like me to fix you anything,'' she asked.

``No thanks,'' he responded. After all, he didn't really need food - and it
would just be a waste of money.

She fixed herself some chicken, and came into the living room to eat it.

``Jules, do you think I'm a freak?'' he asked from behind the pages of the
book.

``Of course not,'' she scolded. ``You're you!''

``But I'm not even human,'' he continued.

``Mike,'' she said, putting her plate down and walking over to climb on top
of him. ``You don't need to be human to be human,'' she said. ``I just wish
I could see what you see; feel what you feel.''

``You don't want to be like me,'' he told her, brushing her hair away from
her face.

``I don't; you're right,'' she said, ``but I do want to understand you a
little more.''

``Be right back,'' he said; as he gently pushed her aside and got up.

Michael walked downstairs to the basement to his box of junk. Somewhere in
there he knew he had a 25' AV cable.

While rummaging around for about 5 minutes, he found the cable he was
looking for and ran back up the stairs. Julie was sitting back in his chair,
finishing her supper. He opened the entertainment center and connected one
end of the AV cables to the jacks on the VCR.

Next, he took his shirt off as he went to go lay back down on the couch.
While reclined, he opened his chest like he had done before, and connected
the cables to the three jacks in his chest.

``What are you doing?'' Julie asked him, finishing up her supper.

``We're both about to find out,'' he replied. ``I noticed these last night
while I was looking at myself in the mirror - three female RCA jacks. One
yellow, one red, and one white. About the only thing I can think of is that
they're AV jacks.'' he said. ``Now, whether they're input or output we're
about to find out.''

``Turn the TV to VIDEO 1,'' he asked her, as he finished hooking up the
cables to his chest.

Julie changed the channel on the television. As soon as it was tuned, they
both heard an awful screech. In a reflex action, Michael cupped his hands
over his ears.

``Turn the volume down,'' he yelled, as she hit the mute button.

``What was that,'' she asked.

``Feedback,'' he replied. ``Everything I am hearing and seeing is being
broadcasted to the TV now.''

Julie lowered the volume on the remote, and depressed the mute button again.

``What are all those boxes,'' she asked, looking at the minimized screens
superimposed over the border of the picture.

``Status screens, different cameras.''

``Show me one,'' she asked politely.

Michael formed the thought of bringing the infra-red camera into full view,
and there on the television it maximized filling the entire picture.

Of course, it also filled his field of view, too. He turned to his left to
look at Julie; which he could tell she was still watching the television,
but she was waving her hands at him.

``Cool!'' she said. ``You're a walking TV studio.''

``That's not the best part,'' he told her as he turned everything normal
again.

Michael replayed the last 30 seconds, and Julie saw an instant replay of
herself on the television.

``Wow!'' she said enthusiastically. ``You're a walking VCR, too! Home
movies!''

They both chuckled.

``How come the picture's so fuzzy,'' she asked.

Michael had noticed that, too, while he was trying to remember back. ``My
guess it's because of the compression my 'memories' are stored in. It's a
lossy compression.''

``How far back can you go?'' she asked.

``Far enough,'' he said.

Michael set the time index to August 7th, 1997, at 6:21PM.

Appearing on the screen, was a close-up shot of Julie, as he was approaching
her to ask her about the guavas at the grocery store in California.

``Awww,'' she said aloud. ``Look at my hair! You mean you were videotaping
the whole thing,'' she asked; tones of discontent forming in her voice.

``Jules, I didn't realize I was doing it at the time,'' he explained.
``These are my memories.''

They watched part of their two hour exchange for a bit. She got a little
upset when he had to minimize the replay window just a tad. After all, he
did want to look at her too, while they were watching the home movies.

``Show me something a little more fun,'' she asked.

Michael changed the time index to December 31, 1999, 11:55PM.

``Ooh!'' she said. ``I like this!''

He replayed the last five minutes of his memories of 1999. She was getting
visibly turned on watching their last fuck of the 20th century.

As Michael's systems crashed when his internal clock turned over to January
1, 2000, what was recorded immediately looked strange.

The last frame froze, and line by line of it began to invert. Two-hundred
double vertical lines changed in a matter of a second, like some window
shade was randomly being pulled down. As the entire image became inverted,
three hundred random horizontal lines were mirrored with their opposite
positions, flipping the entire image horizontally. As this processed
finished, the entire image seemed to zoom-in. The picture became more
pixelated as the magnification increased, to where there was just one giant
cyan colored block on the screen and then that block faded to black.

Julie got up as the screen went black and laid on top of him again. She
picked up the AV cable in her hand and followed the length of cable up to
his chest. Gently she grabbed each cable and pulled it out of the jacks.

``Stay here,'' she said, getting off of him.

She walked downstairs and came back a few minutes later with her tool case
in her hand.

``Woah,'' he said; putting his hands up to stop her as she approached him.
``What are you planning on doing with that?''

``I want to remove your chest,'' she said. ``I'd like to fuck you with your
chest off this time.''

Michael was apprehensive to say the least, and mulled over her proposition
for a moment or two.

``I'm not going to hurt you,'' she said. ``Do you trust me?''

``There we go again with the trust questions,'' he thought to himself.

He conceded reluctantly, and Julie got a small screwdriver out of her pouch.
With great care, she removed the 16 screws attaching his chest plates to the
four hinges and set them down on the coffee table. There were two flat
ribbon cables coming out of him, connecting to each chest plate.

She removed the ribbon cables and set the covers aside.

Michael felt extremely vulnerable.

She reached down to unbutton his pants and slowly slid his zipper down. She
pulled off his shoes and forced down his pants as he arched up to help her
get them down. Next, she then took his hand and pulled him up.

He stood up in front of her and put his arms around her waist. Julie's head
was at the same height as his now exposed chest and she rested hers in it.

Next, she reached down to take his briefs in her hands and pulled them down.

``Awww,'' she said, cupping his balls in her hand. ``Where's Mr. Happy?''

``At your service,'' he said, grinning. In a short instant, his cock became
fully erect, at his command. The speed of its erection caused it to slap her
belly. Giggling, she took a step back.

She turned around to stand in front of him and he placed his hands on her
breasts, massaging them. Julie ran her right hand up his thigh and grabbed
his balls in her hand. Walking away from him, his balls in her hand, he had
no choice but to follow.

She led him up the stairs to their bedroom where she pushed him down onto
the bed.

``You never did explain to me how you made my cock bigger,'' he reminded
her.

``Hydraulics,'' she gladly explained. ``Your programming menu, there are
limits set for the hydraulics in your cock, All I did was change the
parameters.''

``How big can it get,'' he said, stroking his cock in his right hand.

She got down to lay beside him, and ran her hands under his balls.

``I stopped at 12 inches,'' she explained. ``It looked like your skin would
rip.''

``Twelve inches,'' he said softly. ``Wow!''

``So, I gave you an extra 3. You're right at ten inches right now.''

Julie let her other hand traverse across his body. One thing he noticed was
that he couldn't feel anything in his chest. He saw she was gliding her
fingers over components and switches; but he couldn't feel her hand once it
entered his chest.

This made a little bit of sense to him; apparently he had touch sensors.
Perhaps that's what the ribbon cables were connected to. Why would anyone
build a machine with touch sensors under its hood?

Just then Julie accidentally flipped a switch. Michael wasn't sure what
happened but he felt very strange. He could no longer move or talk.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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