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Subject: {ASSM} RP: the Michael Collins Anthology (ASFR, ScFi, act, rom, adv) [5/26]
Date: Wed,  4 Jul 2001 09:10:06 -0400
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5. DARPA Model 1 Prototype Combat Android

     Being an android does have some privileges. Some men yearn for the
     ability to add length and girth to those organs which define their
     manhood.

     Were it as simple for all of us to change one program parameter,
     you and I may choose to elect to become androids, as well.

     Being an android does have its limitations, however, and the fact
     that as an android our personality can possibly be controlled by a
     mere switch is more than enough to probably make us shun the idea.

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

``Who are you?'' he heard himself say. But it wasn't him!

``Stop joking, Michael,'' she said laughing.

He got up off the bed and stood to the side of it at attention. He could see
in the mirror that his cock was still at attention, too.

``Michael, what are you doing?'' she said, her voice sounding a little more
concerned.

He didn't move, and stayed facing straight ahead.

``Who is Michael, ma'am?'' he asked her.

Julie got up and stood in front of me, a look of disgust forming on her
face.

``You!'' she exclaimed.

``I am the DARPA Model 1 Prototype Combat Android,'' he said. ``Do you have
instructions for me?''

``Combat android?'' she asked.

Michael had to admit, he was wondering the same thing.

``I am programmed for multiple combat scenarios,'' he continued. ``Do you
have instructions for me?''

Julie paused for a second and stared him in the eyes. Michael just faced
forward.

A few moments later, Julie approached him. Michael stuck out his arm to hold
her at bay.

``I need to make some adjustments,'' she told him.

``Very well,'' he told her, moving his arm back to his side.

Julie reached into his chest and moved the same switch she had flipped
earlier back to its previous position. Immediately, he fell to the ground.
She tried to grab him, but he weighed too much for her.

``Thank you,'' he told her.

``Michael?''

``Yes!'' he exclaimed, getting off of the ground.

``What was that?'' she asked.

``I don't know.'' he said, embracing her. ``I guess I was built by the
military. DARPA is the Advanced Research Project Administration.''

``I like you better like this,'' she said.

``Me, too.'' he replied. ``Do you have instructions for me?'' he asked her
with a wink.

After he said this, he could tell she was scared for a brief moment, but
when she realized he was joking, by the wink, she shoved him back onto the
bed.

``I do have instructions for you, Mr. Combat Android,'' she said wryly.
``Fuck my  brains out!'' she said laughing, while climbing on top of him.

``At your service, ma'am,'' he replied.

Their marathon lovemaking sessions began. Julie spent most of her time
sitting on top of him; watching the LEDs flash inside his chest. He made a
conscious effort of looking at her: her tits, and down at her pussy riding
his cock. He wanted to savor these moments; he had something special planned
for these memories.

Julie brought him to orgasm, but as he came, he noticed something different
this time.

``SEMINAL RESERVOIR: 8%'' appeared in red text after he finished expelling
inside of her.

``I have a fucking gauge for my  cum,'' he thought to himself, somewhat
disgusted by the distraction.

Of course, this got him thinking - how much cum did he have? What was it
made of? Where did it come from?

When their lovemaking session ended, Michael walked downstairs and brought
back up his two chest plates, the screws, and the screwdriver Julie had used
earlier to remove them.

He carried them with him into the bathroom, closed the drain to the sink,
and set everything down.

Julie walked in a few moments later.

``What are you doing?'' she asked him.

``Putting myself back together,'' he told her, trying to position one of the
plates in his hand while trying to hold the screw and screwdriver in the
other.

He was having a little bit of difficulty.

``Here, let me help you!'' she said turning him around.

With sincere gentility, she carefully positioned his left chest plate
aligned with the hinges. Michael held the plate in position with his hands
as she, for a change, screwed him.

Slowly, and carefully, she turned the screwdriver clock-wise driving the 8
small screws which held his left chest in place.

She repeated the procedure again for his right chest. Julie had forgotten to
reattach the sensor cables, but he didn't mind. He stayed in the bathroom
after she left, reopened his chest, and snapped them back into place.

When he walked out, Julie was laying down in bed reading a book.

``Whacha reading?'' he asked, laying down beside her.

``Asimov's 'I, Robot'.'' she said.

``Good book,'' he replied, reaching over to kiss her.

Michael put his head down on the pillow, and laid down as if to watch TV.
Instead of watching the television, he brought up his replay window and
started rewinding his memories again.

He rewound his memories to frame zero. The time index read January 15th,
1997, 20:24 GMT. The picture was black.

``We've got audio,'' a voice could be heard saying.

``Great work Dr. Carson! What about video?'' another said.

``Gimme a sec.'' said the first.

A few moments later, the picture became pure white, followed by a rainbow
blur.

``Needs focusing,'' the first man said again.

Another moment passed. He could hear the sound of an electric screwdriver
removing something very close to his head.

``There!'' the voice said, as his face became clear. The man stooped down to
stand in front of him.

Michael could hear gears and motors turning, beeps, clicks, and other
strange noises.

``Welcome to your existence, Michael,'' the man said smiling, while looking
into his eyes.

``Doctor,'' the other man said. ``It is the Model 1 Combat Android. Not
Michael.``

``He'll always be Michael to me,'' the first man said; stepping outside the
field of view.

``I expect a full report in the morning,'' the first man said. Seconds
later, a door could be heard opening and closing.

``Don't listen to him,'' the first man said; stepping back into his field of
view. ``Would you like to see what you look like?'' he asked, maneuvering a
mirror into view.

The image that was reflected both shocked and horrified him.

Appearing in the mirror was a dull metallic skull. Wires and cables were
coming out of the top and back of it. There were no eyes, no nose. No lips,
either.

It was not a full skull, in the sense that it was solid. There were parts of
it which were devoid of metal. Michael could see the device in the mirror,
or rather him, stick out his tongue.

His tongue was a tiny cage since there was no tissue applied to any part of
his body, yet. It had very tiny wires and cables embedded within the caging.
Flexible, tiny, black plates were position at the top and sides. As the
mouth closed he noticed gears moving inside the skull.

Just then, an Air Force Lieutenant came over. ``We're done with the skull
cap, sir.'' the man said.

``What's this writing on it?'' Dr. Carson asked.

``We couldn't help but sign all our names to it. There's a Dead Head sticker
inside, but it won't bother anything.''

Michael stopped the playback and minimized the window.

Whether all of this which had happened to him these past four days was a
dream before suddenly seemed all too real, now.

``textitI really am an android,'' he thought.

Michael tried thinking back to last year at some random moment. Another
image appeared.

It was a friend of his, Jared, and he; after jogging one weekend afternoon.

There was Jared, hunched over grabbing his breath after the run. Michael was
just laying on the ground relaxing.

``You must be a superman or something,'' he told him.

``What makes you say that,'' he said; springing up.

Jared still had his hands on his legs trying to regain his strength.

``Look at you man!'' he said. ``You haven't even broken a sweat, and we just
got done running 5 miles!''

``Good genes,'' he told him.

``Must be!''

Michael didn't know why, but for some reason Jared and he didn't run much
after that. He was always too busy or something.

He looked over at Julie; she had fallen asleep. Reaching over, he turned off
the light, gave her a kiss, and laid back down.

He didn't go to sleep that night, but stayed up reflecting over his past
life. He noticed Julie experienced REM three times that night. The last
dream she had must have been good, since she had an orgasm during it.

He wondered what she was dreaming about. Would he ever dream again, too? Did
he ever dream in the first place?

He spent the rest of the night watching more and more memories replayed in
his mind; concentrating on the most earliest of ones.

Dr. Jonas Carson was the man who designed him for DARPA. He learned he was
designed as a military drone; an expendable soldier.

Congress figured they could mass-produce androids like himself for less
money than it would cost to train and support a human counterpart. An
obedient being, one who didn't question authority; or orders.

Vice-President Gore soon found out about the project, and persuaded
President Clinton to steamroller it. Gore felt the technology and money used
to develop him could be spent better helping the poor.

Michael no longer had a purpose. Dr. Carson was ordered to dismantle him but
instead of doing so, he added some new programming and escorted him out of
the building, passing him off as a visitor, on August 7th, 1997, with one
directive: Fall in love with the first woman he met.

The rest, as they say, is history.

But did he love Julie? Did he truly love her, or was he just programmed to
love her since she was the first woman he met in that grocery store?

At least he also learned what his cum was, and where it came from; so this
evening wasn't a total waste. It was a synthetic protein viscous fluid, with
gelatinous properties. There was a liter container in his lower abdomen
which contained it. Now, if only I knew where to find some more!

About this time, Julie's alarm clock went off. It was 6 o'clock a.m.

She reached over to turn off the alarm. He was laying on his side just
admiring her majestic beauty.

``Hmmm. Good morning,'' she said, reaching over to kiss him. ``Did you have
a good night?'' she asked.

``It was wonderful, thank you.''

``Wanna fuck?'' she asked.

Michael stroked her hair as he told her he couldn't. She was visibly
disappointed, but said, ``oh well,'' and got up to go to the bathroom.

He got up to go downstairs to get the morning paper which heard arrived
about 20 minutes ago.

As he got his robe on to walk downstairs, Julie walked up behind him, put
her arms around his waist, grabbed his cock and said, ``Tonight though,
right?''

``We'll see,'' Michael replied, gently moving her hand away so he could
move.

They went about their morning routines; with him reading the paper. She
fixed herself a bagel and had some coffee. When she finished eating and
getting dressed, Michael walked back upstairs to get ready.

As he came back down, he kissed her on the cheek, and walked into the
garage. He almost forgot about the urinalysis this morning as he unlocked
the car door, but quickly remembered and picked up gallon jug of Arnie's
urine in the far corner.

It took a moment for him to bring up the courage to actually remove the cap.
What he was about to do went against the core of his being, but he didn't
see where I really had a choice.

Michael lifted the jug up to his mouth and ingested approximately 16 ounces
before recapping the container and hiding it.

                          FLUID RESERVOIR: 23% FULL

...Flashed like clockwork in front of him.

``It tasted like shit,'' he thought. ``No, it tasted like piss.'' If he
could gag, he probably would've.

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