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Message-ID: <37209asstr$1026079804@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "DB_Story" <DB_Story@att.net>
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Subject: {ASSM} Jungle Bunny {DB_Story} (M/Fembot, rom, ScFi, asfr)
Date: Sun,  7 Jul 2002 18:10:04 -0400
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JUNGLE BUNNY
By DB  ( DB_Story@att.net / http://home.att.net/files/Authors/db_story/www/ )
Copyright(C) 2002 by DB.
ASSM/ASFR (M/Fembot, rom, ScFi, asfr)

(This story contains Constitutionally protected material intended for adults
over 18 years of age in the United States of America, and whatever passes
for adult status in other countries.  If you are under legal age, acting
under legal age, not allowed to view such material in your area, or easily
offended, please do not continue.  This is not for you.

(The only rights granted are to view this story.  You are not allowed to
reproduce, post, or otherwise redistribute this story without permission,
except for non-profit Usenet archiving sites.

(To purchase for publication, place on your web-site devoted to this style
of fiction, or for permission to link to my posted material, please contact
me first at the above email.)

- - -

Author's Note: This story is part of my emerging cosmology about the
evolution of robots into our near future society and the myriad ways we will
learn to interact with our creations.  Read it now, and be prepared.  For
more, visit my web-site at the above address.

A special thanks to Gorgo his excellent and much appreciated proofreading.
All remaining mistakes are mine.

- - -

I work as an independent contractor for a top tier technology company.  That
has advantages and disadvantages.

The money is excellent.  Far more than I'd make as an employee here, even
when you consider I have to buy my own health insurance and pay both halves
of the social security tax.  I get some deductions the regular folks will
never see, and I set my own hours.  Best of all, no meetings and no
performance reviews.  Technically I don't even have a boss.  If I did, I'd
be reclassified as an employee and everybody would be unhappy.

On the downside there's no job security, and in some weird ways the company
seems determined to treat contractors as less than human.  For instance, I'm
forbidden from using both the company gym and the company library.  I've
never been given a good reason why.  I am allowed to eat in the company
cafeteria however.  And I have to be extra careful to stay out of all the
restricted areas.  Why I'm considered a bigger risk to the company than an
employee taking home a third of what they're paying me makes no sense.  This
job is worth far more than any corporate secrets I might discover.
Generally I'm allowed into any area my badge will open, so I use that as my
list of what's allowed and what's not.  There used to be TV cameras all over
the ceilings to make sure nobody misbehaved.  I was told that there were so
many complaints during that time that they were all pulled out, except for
the visible ones over the entrances and exits.  I confess I haven't climbed
up to check any of the still remaining dark glass globes to see for myself,
but I do get on well with the security people because, unlike regular
employees, I have to sign in and out every day.  I know the guards better
then the W-2s do.  These guards are the ones who have confirmed to me that
the inside surveillance is gone, and I'll take them at their word.

My home is cubicle land.  At least that's what I call it.  It seems so much
like something out of Dilbert that I can't think of it any other way.  The
huge, rectangular second floor is wall-to-wall partitions, rows, and aisles
supporting hundreds of employees.  It would make for a great maze if someone
had displayed a little more imagination, but all we have is a regular grid
pattern of rows and aisles.  This room is directly above the manufacturing
floor, and is so large it takes me better than five minutes to walk its
perimeter.  Someone was smart enough to stencil coordinates high up on the
supporting columns and everyone gives directions from the nearest column.
After awhile the system becomes natural - which is a pretty unnatural
occurrence.

Built into both long sides of the building are several pairs of restrooms,
multiple break rooms, a copy center, library, stairs, freight elevators, and
the restricted labs with their own automatic doors.  I can see into these
labs since the doors are glass, but I don't even try my badge on their
doors.  I know the system logs all failed authentications and I don't what
to have to explain why I though my job involved a trip into the chemistry
lab, or any other.

Because I set my own hours, I prefer to start late and end later.  I don't
have to get up early this way, and miss the traffic both directions.  This
much is allowed of me, and after hours I am allowed to use some of the neat
adult toys - expensive scanners and large format printers - that I'll never
own at home.  Since my social life is nil at the moment, leaving late
doesn't eat into dating scenarios.

As such, I see things the regular employees miss, like the cleaning crews.
My favorite secret joke is watching the cleaning crews empty the locked
wastebaskets we are all supposed to use for confidential company materials.
After being warned about being careful with company information my first
week, I got into the habit of throwing everything except used Kleenex into
them.  This is easy to do since I'm low man on the totem pole to every
employee and they put the nearest bin in my cube.  I can't complain about
that, or a few other things that they get away with storing in my space.

Imagine my amusement the first time I stayed late and watched the cleaning
crew open each locked bin and dump it in with all the rest of the trash in
the same big dumpster they roll around every night.  Same with the little
recycle trashcans we all have.  No I didn't tell anybody about it.  That's
not part of my job.

My one habit that could get me in trouble is that I like to wander.  In the
afternoons and evenings when I have a long compile and load in progress I'll
get up and walk.  That's how I know how long it takes to walk around our
floor once.  One particular task takes three laps to complete.  I have an
excellent map in my head of the rows and aisles to stay clear of, and I
could absolutely care less about any company secrets.  I just like to walk.
Some people will naturally find that suspicious.  To avoid as much scrutiny
as possible, I vary my routes so that no one sees too much of me over any
short period of time.

This afternoon my route took me past the chemistry lab.  This is one of the
most restricted areas and even most normal employees aren't allowed inside.
You have to wear special lab coats for protection, and there are several
unpleasant warning signs on the doors cautioning of bad things inside.
That's all fine since it's not my problem.

I noticed that the sliding doors were several inches ajar.  They'd been
having troubles with them for a couple days now and I remembered that the
cleaning crew had to prop them open last night to do their job.  You'd think
a big powerful company like this one would have these things fixed in an
hour.  But so far two days had passed with no change.  Maybe they were
waiting for the necessary part to arrive.  Or maybe they were just being
lazy about it.  It wouldn't be the first time that I'd noticed that things
often took a couple weeks to get fixed properly.

I glanced in through the window and almost stumbled as I got caught between
the choice of stopping to get a better look at what I thought I just saw in
there, and keeping moving because I am not supposed to be looking in there
at all - glass or no glass.

In the end I made three different loops around different cubicle blocks to
go past the lab doors three more times as slowly as I could make my slow
walk and shortened steps take me.  I was right in what I had seen.  A
dark-skinned nude female figure lay on a wheeled table on one side of the
otherwise unoccupied lab.

- - -

I call it the chemistry lab, which it is.  It is not a mad scientist's
laboratory.  The work done here is research into new inks for printing.
Nothing clandestine.  To say that what I saw intrigued me greatly
understates my curiosity.

I couldn't do a thing however about it.  At least not now.  I had no doubt
that getting caught in there would result in instant termination.

All I could do is wait until the evening when I knew the building would be
pretty much empty by six-thirty, and then possibly get myself another look.
Needless to say, I wasn't very productive the rest of the afternoon, which
passed with the speed of molasses in the winter.

I don't take headcounts of people remaining because normally I don't care.
Tonight I did.  Even though my expedition would only take maybe five minutes
tops to see what I could see, I didn't want to be disturbed during it.

I think of the building as being empty at six-thirty, but was amazed how
many people seemed to be remaining past that time tonight.  In fact, it
wasn't until 7:45 that things finally seemed to quiet down.  This limited my
window of opportunity significantly because the cleaning crew would be
starting their rounds soon, since they always seemed to get to me by nine,
and my cube is pretty much in the middle of the area.

Finally I was ready to make my move.  If someone saw me now, that sighting
alone wouldn't be a problem.  I often worked later then this, and would have
no problem explaining these hours tonight if asked.  I just couldn't be
caught in the wrong area.

Like a human trying to imitate a cat I quietly moved through the well-known
aisles to bring me closest to the lab entrance without exposing myself to
the long wide corridor running in front of it.  I wanted to minimize my time
where anyone from either end of the building could see me.  Like a cat I
kept my ears perked and virtual whiskers out for any rustle of movement.  I
felt certain I had eyes on me from every direction and that I must have
looked as guilty as sin, but in truth nobody was there to see me.

My heart was racing as I stood just inside the closest entrance to the main
corridor.  After waiting what seemed an endless time to make sure everything
was clear, I finally stepped out and walked nonchalantly over to the door.

The sliding doors were stuck about four feet open.  They'd turned the lights
down for night, which means only about every sixth fixture was on.  That's
still plenty of light to see by.  I saw the figure over in the corner.
Someone had thrown a sheet over her.  I could only see her head, and even
that was in the shadows.

I glanced around.  Nobody was in view.  Nobody had been in view for the last
several minutes.  Nobody was likely to be in view for the next half-hour.
Besides, it was half-dark in there.  Even if someone came by, chances were
excellent they'd never notice me.  I checked the ceiling for evidence of
cameras and saw none.  I weighed the odds and then quickly stepped inside.

Once I committed I didn't waste any further time.  I moved quickly, yet
quietly, to the table.  I planed to lift the sheet, get one good look, and
then get out again.

She lay there with the sheet up to her neck, eyes closed as if sleeping.
Her black hair was straight, but kinky.  What some might call nappy.  It
went well with her rich chocolate skin.  Her facial features were African to
match her hair and skin, with prominent cheekbones and flawless complexion.
It was a beautiful, and unexpected, face for a fembot - which is what she
had to be.

It pleased me to see that someone had finally realized that beauty comes in
many forms, and that all fembots aren't stamped from only one mold - not
that I am an expert on the variety of fembots.  They are expensive machines,
beyond the reach of most individuals like myself.

The sheet covered the rest of her body.  It had a couple nice bumps in the
right places, but didn't show much.  I knew I was going to going to pick it
up and take a good look for a minute, while letting my ears do the work of
warning me of any approaching danger.

I took hold of the corner and side and started to lift.  As I did so I
brushed against her hand lying off the edge of the table.  To my surprise it
was a warm and soft as any human hand I've ever encountered.

(Okay, I've never touched a fembot before.  Just seen them in pictures and
showroom windows.  I was still startled.)

I was so surprised - I guess I had expected it to be cold and plastic - that
I dropped the sheet.  As I fumbled for the edge I encountered her hand
again.  This time to my horror, her eyes popped open, she lifted her head,
and asked:

"Are you ready for me to go to work now?"

I jumped.  I admit it.  I jumped.  I didn't know she was turned on,  For
that moment I was the classic kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"No.  No," I quickly stuttered out.  "No, we're not ready for you yet.  You
should go back the way you were."

"Okay," she said with a very human tone of resignation.  "But I don't know
why you bothered to turn me on if you aren't planning to use me."

In my mind's eye I was already halfway out of the lab and still
accelerating.  But part of me felt I ought to at least be polite enough to
answer her rather then run away first.  I've always been that way with
women, not that any seemed to appreciate it very much.  The habit however
remains ingrained.  Besides, I've been intensely curious about fembots ever
since I first heard about the first realistic models years ago, yet had
never been willing to do the necessary lying to be able to get myself into a
showroom to see one up close.  I knew I couldn't afford one, and as such
those showrooms aren't interested in my business.  They still have a rare,
expensive commodity, and are pretty picky about whom they let in.

"I didn't realize I had turned you on," I replied.  I thought that required
a control box.

"You're right," she said, now looking directly at me.  "I didn't mean that
you had turned me on.  I was speaking about the man earlier who activated
me.  And then just left me here."

In spite of my fears of discovery this was fascinating.  I had never
realized that you could just talk to a 'bot this way.  'Bots were the
current rage on sitcoms this season, but all of them were jerky and
mechanical and always getting things wrong because they literally took what
was told to them.  Even though human actors played the 'bots, you always
knew who was a 'bot and who wasn't.  It was a joke that was funny twice, and
not any more than that as far as I was concerned.

"He just left you here?" I asked.  "That doesn't make sense."

"Actually," she said in a warm contralto voice, "He told me to lie down over
here and turn myself back off."

"Didn't you do that?"

"I can't.  Turning me off requires my control box, and I'm not allowed to
use it.  But he didn't want to hear that, so I came over and pretended to be
turned off to make him happy."

"And did it?"

"I guess so.  At least as happy as he is ever going to be with me."

Intriguing as this all was, I knew I should have been getting out of here
before now.

"And then you touched my hand," she continued, "And I thought someone
finally wanted me."

"I really have to go," I told her as gently as I could.

"Oh," her face fell.  I'm amazed at how real her reactions are.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"It's okay.  It was just nice to have someone to talk to."

I felt like a heel.  To a 'bot, no less.

"I'd like to talk to you more," I told her truthfully, "But I'm really not
even supposed to be in here."

Her face brightened as she realized that I wasn't rejecting her personally.

"Is there some place else we can talk?" she asked with the simplicity of a
child - and the logic of a genius.  Such an innocent question, thrown into
such a complicated situation.

"Well, there's a conference room at the end of the hall," I said before I
could think of a good reason not to say so.  "But we'd have to wait until
later when no one else would see us."

She seemed to accept caveat at face value.

"How much later?"

I thought for a moment.  The cleaners do the conference room first, and then
work their way this direction.

"At least an hour," I said.  "You'd have to wait until the cleaners are done
with this half of the building.  They'll come through here on their way by."

"Okay," she said with a smile.  "I'll talk to you more after that."

With those words she lay back down on the table and closed her eyes, looking
again exactly like I'd found her.  I stood there waiting to say something
more, but there seemed nothing more to say.  I realized the longer I stood
here the more I risked discovery.  With one last look at her I quietly
bolted for the doors.  I didn't start to feel safe until I was three full
rows back into cubicle land.

I wasn't sure what had just happened, or what I had agreed to do.  I went
back to my desk confused.  I decided to work some more on my project and
maybe my mind would sort things out.  I actually got back into the graphic I
was preparing and soon my concentration came back and I forgot the outside
world for awhile.

About forty-five minutes later I leaned back to take a break and rest my
eyes when the phone suddenly rang.  It was her voice on the other end.

"Hello, Sam.  The janitors have finished in here.  Are you ready to go and
talk some more?"

"How did you know my name?" I asked dumbly.

"Your name badge of course."

"But how did you get my phone extension?" I continued, showing how dumb I
really can be when dealing with an attractive woman.

"The company telephone list, silly," she answered making far more sense than
I was at that moment.  "You're still going to meet me, aren't you?" she
added wistfully, in the manner of someone who has been disappointed a lot
lately.  I'm sure a real woman would have already hung up on me by now given
how lame I was being towards her.

"Uh...yes," I finally replied.

"Great!" she squealed in excitement, and I immediately looked around to see
if anyone else had heard.

"Keep it down," I cautioned.

"Okay," she said softly.

There was a pause.  I think each of us was waiting for the other to speak.
Finally she said, "Where do I meet you?"

I was tempted to come get her.  But that would be hard to explain to anyone
we did meet, unlikely as that might be this late.  Better to meet in the
conference room.

"Here's what you do," I told her.  "Come out of the lab and turn right in
the corridor.  Go straight to just before the end.  It's the last door on
your right.  It says 'Conference Room' on the plaque beside the door.  Can
you do that?"

Again I'm sure real woman would have been insulted by the insinuation that
she couldn't follow simple instructions.  This woman wasn't.

"I'll be there in three minutes," she said, followed by a click.

"Be sure you have some clothes on," I added frantically into the dead phone.

I grabbed at my phone list to find the lab number, but quickly realized the
futility of it.  She'd either come as she was, or know enough to not be so
indiscreet.  Either way, I couldn't change it now.

I decided to give her time to get there first.  If she attracted any
attention, I just wouldn't show.  And if she attracted attention and
mentioned my name...I don't know what I'd do then.

She was short enough to not show over the cubicle walls.  I'm tall enough to
easily look over myself which is normally an advantage.  Not tonight though.

I gave her those three minutes, and then three more, before I went to the
room myself.  I couldn't hear a sound in the building except for the soft
sounds of the air conditioning system, and maybe the sound of a conference
room door shutting ahead of me.

When I reached the door myself I hesitated before opening it.  I made sure I
had an excuse for being there already loaded and ready to fire to save me if
I didn't find what I expected inside.  I sure didn't want to fumble around
for some excuse at the last moment.  Then I opened the door and walked in.

Despite my fears, the only thing in there besides the chairs and tables was
a single, barefoot figure with her back to me looking out the big windows on
the far side into the night.  She was wearing a white lab coat she must have
found in there that came down below her knees.  It was by far the best
choice of an outfit she could have possibly made.

She heard me enter, turned, and with a smile on her face and joy in her
voice said, "You came!" as she quickly came over to me.

She came right up and put her arms around me, giving me a big kiss after
pulling me down to match her height.  In reflex, I took her into my arms
stiffly in return, but it was not my best hug.  I soon broke us apart
saying, "Let me insure our privacy."

I walked back over and twisted the lock on the conference room door.  There
is no way to see into this room from that side.  When I turned back she was
there waiting for me.

For the first time I actually got a good look at her.  At least as good as
the loose lab coat permitted.

As I observed already, she is an attractive dark-skinned woman that seems
atypical for a fembot.  In a way it made sense though.  When you look at her
the first thought is not of a fembot, which is probably the idea.  That
makes her all the more interesting.

Aside from her face, all I could really see is that her hands are
attractively well manicured, and so are her feet.  I could hardly ask her to
take her coat off for me, so that left little more to go on.  She seemed -
chunkier - then the slender supermodel or busty exotic dancer types I've
seen before.  The first glimpses I'd caught of her seemed to give her a very
womanly figure, but those had been so fleeting I still wasn't exactly sure
what I'd seen.

While I was sorting this out she was waiting for me to get on with it.
Finally she asked, "Are we going to talk?"

"Uh...sure," I replied.  "What would you like to talk about?"

"I'll let you choose," she said sweetly after furrowing her brow for a
moment in obvious thought.  "You have much more experience in conversations
than I do."

Except I didn't have any ideas either.  Casting frantically about I finally
came up with, "Why don't you tell me what happened to you here?"

What ever she lacked in conversational confidence she made up for in
interpersonal skills.  She pulled out a couple chairs and took my hand to
lead me to one before taking the other herself.  She then crossed her legs
easily at the knees and told me her tale.

"This is my very first assignment, so all that I remember has happened here
in the past few hours.  I was activated and prepared by my programming to be
a lab assistant.  But now I think they don't want me."

"Why?" I asked.

"Just as I was turned on, before they even initialized me, the lab manager
came over.  He took one look at me and said, 'I can't imagine what those
people are thinking.  I won't have a Jungle Bunny working in my department.'
Then he told me to go lie down back over there and shut myself off.  I did
my best to obey, but I heard them arguing over me afterwards."

"What were they saying?"

"Most of it was too far away to hear, but at one point several of them came
over to me and he said to 'cover it up while I figure out how to return it.'
They put a sheet over me and left me alone until you came in and touched
me."

Then she looked at me with big beautiful clear brown eyes and innocently
asked, "What is a 'jungle bunny'?"

I had to think for a moment on that one.  Not because I didn't know the
answer.  Instead because I was about to introduce an obvious innocent to
dark side of human nature.

"Jungle Bunny," I finally told her, "Is an ugly, unpleasant term for a
person with your lovely skin color.  It is unfair, inaccurate, and would
never be used in that sense by anyone who actually knew you and liked you."

She thought that over carefully, giving me some time to think as well.  I am
still amazed at how lifelike and personable she is.

Finally she announced, "I will just not like him either then.  But," she
added looking so directly at me that I felt she was addressing my soul, "I
like you a lot."

I smiled and reached over to squeeze her hand.  Then she asked me another
innocent question.

"Why did you come in to see me?"

I couldn't think of a good story so I told her the truth.  "I had seen you
earlier, and wanted to get a closer look.  I didn't realize what had
happened with you."

"Well I'm glad you did," she said warmly, "Or I'd still be lying there."

"I'm glad I did too," I replied warmly.

Then she asked about the world outside this building and I started telling
her about San Diego.  She seemed fascinated by this world she had yet to
experience and made the best possible audience.  Hanging on every word
asking small questions to move things along, she really seemed thirsty to
experience the world at large - even second hand.  I couldn't have hoped for
a better audience.

Finally we arrived at one of those awkward pauses when neither person knew
what to say next.  Then we both tried to speak at once.

"What else would you like to talk about?" I asked.

"Would you like to do anything more with me?" she asked.

We both laughed, although mine was a bit strained.  What I'd like to do with
her I couldn't ask of her.

That brought another pause which she broke by saying, "Well there is
something I'd like to do, at least once."

With that she stood up, moved away a several steps - and then took off her
lab coat.  She was totally nude.

- - -

My first reaction was that this is exactly what I had wanted to see from the
beginning.

My second was, is someone about to catch us at this?

My third was, do I get to touch her too?

My fourth was, can I walk closer to her without scaring her off.

These reactions all took about a second.

The reaction I hadn't come to yet was wondering how she was managing to do
all this on her own.  She made it seem so natural that this question didn't
even come to mind.

I finally got the look at her body I had craved, and I was surprised.  She
was short, probably around five-six, which I already knew, and it anything,
seemed little bit dumpy.

The fembots you see in the pictures are always lean and sleek.  Long tanned
legs in high spike heels, tight bodies, classic faces, and big weightless
boobs.

This one seemed none of those things.  Her figure was generous, with wide
hips and sturdy legs.  She looked to be a size twelve in a world expecting
size twos.  Her breasts were large, yes, but hung heavily on her chest, with
large darker nipples well situated on them.  What I could see of her
backside was generous as well.  She seemed, if anything, a fembot who had
gained an extra thirty pounds somewhere along the way, most of it in the
right places.

Her other noticeable features were the control box hanging on a slender cord
between her breasts that had been out of sight earlier and a large patch of
lush black pubic hair covering her between her legs.

You'd think these imperfections would make her less attractive, but it
actually makes her more so.  Rather than some artificial idea of feminine
perfection, she looks real.  And with a smile and personality that I would
have never expected, she's a winner.  I couldn't believe how anyone in the
lab would have rejected her for any reason at all.

I rose to my feet without thinking as she started to walk towards me.  As
she moved, her body swayed.  Her hips swayed.  Her breasts swayed. And she
tossed her head so that he hair swayed.  There was not part of this woman
not in motion.

When she came came up to me again without thinking I reached out for her
control box.  Her response was a surprise.

She hand came up and softly brushed my hand away while saying in a sultry
husky voice, "You won't need that to get what we both want out of me."

Her touch was gentle.  I could have easily overridden it and taken control
of her if I had wished.  She stopped while waiting to see what I would do.

I looked down into her clear brown eyes and saw - something - that made me
not want to do that just now.  At this magic moment we were a relationship
of equals, strange as that might sound.  We were dealing with each other as
free adults.  She had asked for my company and conversation, come on her own
to meet me, and was now offering herself to me of her own apparent choice.
Thinking about it as we stood in our tableau, I was smart enough for once to
realize that there was no way I change could anything to improve on this.

So instead of pushing her hand back and taking possession of her control box
, I slid my hand up and placed it behind her soft warm neck, pulling her in
for a kiss on her rich tender lips.  She must have liked my response since
she flowed into me and pressed herself firmly up against me.  What followed
was kind of confused and run together.

That first kiss was followed by several more steps of increasing intensity.
One or both of us got my clothes off and soon her hot body was pressed up
tightly against my bare flesh.  She encouraged me to handle her heavy
breasts, her body stiffening in pleasure every time I gently mauled her
large, willing nipples.  Before we were done her hands had roamed over and
touched every part of my body, as I did the same to hers.

Then I had myself inside her, both of us down on the floor, pumping mightily
as she cushioned me with her own plush body from the far too thin carpet.
Only once did I have to caution her to "hold it down" lest we be discovered.
Lowering her moans and sighs in no way lowered her ardor.

I easily came inside her warm, wet, soft, slick, tightness.  She clenched me
both inside her, and with her powerful arms and legs at that same moment as
we strained against each other.

Afterwards she accommodated my full weight on her own soft, strong body.  I
might have lay there all night - she was certainly willing to let me do so -
when it suddenly hit me to check the time.  It was well after ten!  I'd
never been here this late before

"I've got to go," I told her hurriedly as I started getting my clothes back
on.  "And you've got to get back as well."

She seemed in less of a hurry than I was.  Of course, she had less to put on
then I did, and less to worry about as well.

"Thank you," she said to me as she waited for me to finish.  "That was
wonderful."

Wonderful, I thought to myself.  What is she talking about?  I got all the
'wonderful' here.

"I'm the one who ought to be saying thank you," I replied frankly.

"No, really," she said, suddenly serious.  "Thank you for the opportunity to
do this once."

"This was your first time?" I asked, struggling with my pants.

"Yes," she replied regretfully.  "And my last."

I stopped struggling for a moment and looked at her.  Her face was
completely somber.

"Why?  I'd do it again with you in a moment."

She half-smiled at that, and took a small step towards me.

"After a few minutes to recover," I amended hastily.

Then she answered my previous question.

"When they initialize me to my lab assistant duties the rest of my
generalized programming will be permanently disabled."

"Including...uh...sex?"

"Yes."

I started to ask her why, but I already knew why.  Lab assistants aren't
supposed to have sex, or conversations, or whatever.  No distractions in the
workplace.  But there was nothing I could do about that.  It looked like our
first night was also going to be our last night.  It least it was a heck of
a night.

I pulled my pants the rest of the way on and then went over to hug her.  She
returned that hug so fully that soon I had my hand inside the lab coat
fondling her sexy breasts again.  She leaned against me, placing her head on
my shoulder and closing her eyes, making it clear that I could continue this
for as long as I wanted.  I wanted a long time, and knew I didn't have it.

A minute later I stopped.  She opened her eyes and straightened up again.

"I really do have to go now, or we could both be in trouble," I told her
half-truthfully.  She agreed silently by stepping away and letting me finish
dressing.

Then I carefully opened the door and peaked out.  The coast was clear.
Heck, the building was probably completely deserted except for the
occasional guard making rounds.

We made a quick hushed walk down the corridor back to the chem lab.  At the
door there was only time for another quick hug and kiss, before I was half
pushing her through it.

A sudden thought struck and I called after her, "I don't even know your
name."

"Call me JB," she replied as the lab door jerkily closed between us.

- - -

The harsh light of the next day made last night seem unreal.  After I got to
work I tried going past the lab a couple times to surreptitiously look in,
but there were several people working there and I couldn't stay.  None of
them however looked like her.  Nor was she or the table she'd been on in
view.

With no way to contact her without drawing unacceptable attention to myself
I tried to finish my task.  My concentration was decidedly lacking.  Then
near two-thirty my phone rang.  It was JB.

"Everyone's on break," she said quickly in a hushed voice.

"What's happening?" I whispered back, not wanting to waste words.

"Too much to tell now," she replied.  "Can you meet me in the conference
room same time tonight?"

"I'll be there."

- - -

Actually I got there first this time.  I wanted to make sure the room was
still clear of any problems.  And frankly I was too antsy to sit in my
cubicle any longer.

After what seemed forever - although the wall clock confirmed that my
wristwatch had not stopped - JB slipped through the door, locking it behind
her.

Like longtime devoted lovers we rushed into each other's arms for a long
clinch.  I could swear that she was actually shaking.

At length we broke apart and sat down together knee to knee, holding hands,
to talk.

JB told me what had happened in the lab that day.  Apparently much debate
swirled around her as she lay in her simulation of a deactivated state.  It
was amazing how much controversy she was causing just lying there.

"And in the end," she said wrapping up her story, "Even though everyone else
wants to keep me and put me to work, our manager insisted that I be shipped
to the Singapore division.  'They'll know what to do with her kind,' he told
the rest of them."

"And no one could sway him?" I asked, amazed that such a dinosaur would
still be allowed to run a department.

"Apparently not.  They're supposed to prepare me for shipping tomorrow."

"Not wasting any time, I see."

"No," she replied, and then fell silent.

I had hoped that JB would be kept, and that somehow we could keep our
relationship going.  Farfetched, certainly, but it didn't seem any more
unreasonable than all the rest of what had happened in the last day or so.

And that brought me to the question that had been gnawing at me since
yesterday.

"How do you do it?" I asked.

"What do you mean?" she asked back, surprised at the change in direction of
our conversation.

"How do you manage to come out of the lab, meet me here, hold a great
conversation, and then make fantastic love to me without me giving you a
single command.  You seem to be making your own choices here.  Looking out
for your own welfare."

"I don't know," she replied.  "I just do it."

She stopped talking and seemed to think hard on it, before adding, "Maybe it
is because I haven't been initialized.  I'm supposed to do the defined job.
I have programming specific to that task.  But it hasn't been activated, so
my general programming is still running.  But that programming is not
complete either, because I was never supposed to actually run on it.  There
is enough to get me up and operating in the general sense, but I'm kind of
making up the rest for myself as I go along."

"Do you like doing that?" I asked, intrigued by her ability to understand
herself that well, all things considered.

Again she seemed to think hard before eventually giving the simple answer
of, "Yes.  I do."

I was about to explore this amazing topic further with her when she sadly
added, "This will all end for me anyway when they ship me to Singapore."

"Why?" I blurted out.

"They'll have to reprogram me for my tasks there.  Even if I was to do the
same thing, they'd still have to change my language which means a full
reprogramming.  I'm sure when I wake up there I will be exactly what I was
supposed to be from the beginning."

"Will you remember this - and me?" I asked.

"No," she replied in a way that made us both sad.  "You'll have to remember
it all for both of us."

I couldn't think of anything more to say after that.  Apparently neither
could she.

I rose from my seat and lifted her hands to bring her to her feet too.   I
kissed her tenderly, then removed her lab coat with her tacit consent.  She
helped undress me and our lovemaking that followed was nothing like the
night before.  It was slow and tender, with lots of kissing from her lips to
her neck and ears, down to her breasts and nipples, and back up to her lips
again.  When I was finally ready, she put her hand down and guided me inside
her in the most welcoming gesture a woman can make to a man.

Afterwards I wanted to cry.  Not because it was bad.  Because it was so
good, and was our last time.  I think she would have cried herself, if a
'bot could.

I stayed late with her.  To hell with what the guards would think.  We
talked softly about small things, and I told her what a very special, unique
person she was to me.  We finally walked back to the lab only because there
seemed nothing more to say.

Our final kiss was soft and tender.

"Keep me informed of what's happening," I said as the doors closed between
us again.

- - -

My sleep that night was fitful at best.  I dreamed of somehow rescuing her
in many different ways.  I was hardly rested at all come morning.

It was on the drive in where I had my epiphany that laid out a rescue plan
in mind-boggling detail.  I had to pull over to the side of the freeway and
stop for a couple minutes to sort it all out before I could safely resume
driving.  If everything came together perfectly it might even work.

- - -

It was agony waiting for her to call.  Wondering if she even would be able
to call.  All it took was someone to really shut her down and this would all
fail.  I needed her help to pull it off.

I took lunch at my desk so as not to not miss any attempted call.  She got
through to me at one-fifteen.

"What's the situation?" I asked quickly.

"They are going to try and ship me out today.  They've already sent for my
shipping crate from storage."

"Is it there yet?"

"No."

"Good.  We need to be sure can't have you ready to go before four-thirty."

"Why?"

"That's when shipping closes down for the night after the last truck
pickup."  I had run into this deadline in the past here when I had to get
something out.

"If you're there too early, you might be shipped out today before I can get
to you.  Can you delay them at all?"

"They were doing some lab results entry on the computer that has to be
finished today.  I can scramble that up a bit so that they have to redo it."

"Sounds good.  Just don't get caught."

"Will this really work?" she asked.

"It should," I replied.  "All Singapore likely knows is that they're getting
an unexpected and unwanted robot from here.  And that's what they will get.
It's unlikely anyone will ever ask any questions."

"Got to run," she said suddenly followed by a click on the line.

I fretted all afternoon.  This wasn't stealing.  They didn't even want her.
The only reason they were shipping JB to Singapore instead of the dump is
that it is easier in this company to get the paperwork done for shipping to
Singapore.  We do it all the time.  A company joke is that we should just
ship all our trash to Singapore, since it would be easier and cheaper than
having it collected and disposed of here.

I didn't hear from JB again.  That could be good, or bad.  Afternoon finally
reached evening, but people seemed to be leaving with agonizing slowness.
It seemed forever before the building was clear enough for me to check.  But
when I looked in the lab there was no JB - and no shipping box.  This meant
one of two things.  Either she was out of sight in the lab, or they had
gotten her packed and sent to shipping.

The lab door was still broken.  But tonight it was broken shut.  I couldn't
get in.

I waited for the cleaning crew who finally came along and opened it.  I
ducked in muttering that I had forgotten to check something.  They don't
really care, and may not have even understood my comment.  Security is not
their problem.  But no box, and no JB.

Shipping was my only other alternative.  Fortunately not only is it a less
sensitive area, but also one that is cleaned last so that they can wheel out
the dumpsters to the loading dock for removal.  Of course that meant I had
to wait for the entire building to be finished first.

Tonight though they were quick.  They opened shipping at 8:45, and I was in
by 8:46.  The person-sized box was easy to locate, and gave me plenty of
room to hide behind it.  No one was looking for anything special and the
cleaning crew was through and closed up again in ten minutes.  Then I looked
until I found a big screwdriver and pried open the box.

JB stood there, eyes closed, naked in the formfitting foam padding.  Knowing
her now for the personality she is, she is more beautiful than any other
woman I know.  Even standing there frozen and lifeless I might have just
stared at her for a long time, except that there was work to do.

I spoke her name and touched her hand, but she didn't respond.  I even
squeezed her nipple and stroked her face without response.  They must have
finally shut her off properly.

The control box remained around her neck.  I took it for the first time and
pressed the DE/ACTIVATE button.

All the breathing and little automatic movements we never notice in a person
until they're not there started one by one.  Although it seemed a long time,
only a few seconds passed before JB opened her eyes and focused on me.

Then she stepped out of the crate and stood, legs apart, waiting.

"Activation complete," she announced in an even tone of voice.  "Are you
ready for me to start my duties?"

I might have said "Yes," if I hadn't known about her situation.  "Yes,"
would have been the very wrong answer.

"No," I replied firmly.  "Do not start any predefined duties or tasks."

"Then I'll just have to keep on being your lover," she said in a much more
lively voice and a sudden big grin as she threw herself into my arms.

Nice as that was, we still had a lot to do.  Our hug was, of necessity, a
brief one.

I quickly located a cart (Shipping always has several) and took it to the
door.  I told her what she needed to do while I was gone, and to listen for
my knock.  All business now, she nodded once and held the door for me.

In my wanderings over the months I knew a couple places where old unwanted
equipment goes to die.  Every company has a place, or several, like it.  The
unwanted equipment would be worth tens of thousands of dollars if anyone
could figure out how to use it again.  Nobody ever does and amazing things
accumulate.  I'd made a couple trips to this one over the months to get
parts for a big printer I wanted to get working in our department.  Now I
needed something else.

The wheels on the cart squeaked and squealed horribly as I rolled it down
the hall.  All carts seem to do this, but tonight it seemed to announce to
everyone in the building that something was up.  I kept telling myself that
no one ever notices these sounds because they happen all the time, but it
sure was loud to me.

Then it was down the big freight elevator, which is a slower and more
complicated operation then a passenger elevator would be.  Except we don't
have any passenger elevators here.  Then the long trip across the deserted
production floor.  The graveyard of forgotten equipment was actually in a
room off a corridor between this building and the next.

When I got there I almost didn't find what I was looking for.  Not that it
had been moved, only that my memory was slightly faulty.  But tucked away in
the corner was an old male robot form that looked to have been here for
several years.  Nothing like the complexity of the current models, but it
meets the minimum requirement of a robot and was probably quite a sensation
in its day.

I struggled to get him on the cart.  JB's assistance would have really been
helpful here, but I hadn't brought her because I didn't want to expose her
to anyone else who might come along.  No one had, but I couldn't have known
that in advance.

Finally I got it on the cart and covered by a tarp that was also discarded
there.  The trip back seemed endless, with the wheels squealing even more
than before.

A knock, then two more at the door got JB to open it for me.  She helped me
get it inside.

Interestingly, she showed no curiosity at all about the old robot body I had
retrieved.  She had retrieved her lab coat and some slippers from somewhere
and donned them.  She spent the rest of the time waiting for me to return by
rearranging the foam padding into the general shape I had described to her.

Together we put the male 'bot in and she made some last minute packing
adjustments.  Fortunately when it comes to shipping 'bots a
one-size-fits-all box is standard.  She even found a place to stuff in the
tarp I'd used (probably where she had hidden the lab coat ahead of time) so
that I didn't have to return or hide it.  I know enough not to leave behind
anything that could cause questions.

All this seemed to take forever, but in reality only a few minutes had
passed before we were ready to close up the crate again.

I was getting ready to pick up the front of the crate with her help and bolt
it shut when she paused, as if a moment of confusion struck her.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"I think so," was her uncertain reply.

"Then what is it?" I asked, my anxiety going through the roof that something
was going wrong here at the last moment.

"There was just some confusion about what I am supposed to be doing," she
said.

"Is it past now?"

I think she wanted to say yes, but it came out as, "Not really."

That stopped me cold.  Without her full cooperation this wasn't going to
work.  Not that she'd get in trouble - except that they'd probably wipe her
mind.  I was the one that might never work in this industry again.

"Do you know what's causing it?" I asked, very concerned.

"I think it's from when they shut me down for the packing.  They tried to
reactivate me so that they wouldn't have to carry me to the crate.  Easier
to have me walk to it.  But since I was still active, they actually did shut
me down the first time they pressed the button.  When I didn't respond they
reactivated me again without realizing it.  Then they shut me down again,
and you reactivated me one more time.  I've still not been initialized to my
intended duties, and all this is making my programming very confused."

I didn't know what to do.  Actually I did know what to do - programming is
my specialty - but I didn't know how she'd feel about it.  I knew she hadn't
liked the thought of it before.

I gave her a couple minutes to come to grips with herself before asking
again, "Are you okay now?"

"Yes," she replied, but quickly followed it up with, "No."

Time is running short on us.  Every minute magnifies the chances of us
getting caught.

I looked at her and finally said, "I can straighten this out for you, if you
want me to."

She knew what I meant.  And she realized that I hadn't offered this solution
lightly.  She struggled with herself for another minute before her shoulders
slumped in defeat.  Maybe if she'd had more opportunity she could win this
battle.  But time was not on our side.

"I think you'll have to," she replied finally, eyes downcast in resignation
at her failure.

I didn't delay us any further.  I walked over and held out my hand.  After a
brief hesitation she pulled her control box off over her head and handed it
to me.

"I trust you," she whispered.

I organized my thoughts.  What I had to do needed to be clear, concise, and
correct the first time.  When I had the picture fully in my mind I pressed
firmly on her COMMAND button.  She stiffened as the overrides hit her mind.

"JB," I commanded.  "Delete all uninitialized task specific programming for
the job of laboratory assistant."

"Confirm deletion?" she said softly.

"Deletion confirmed."

"Done," she said with no change of tone to her voice.

With my finger still firmly on her COMMAND button I continued, "Reclaim all
unused space for personal use."

"Done," she replied again.

Then I told her, "You belong to me now - as an equal."

There was a long moment while she processed my last directive before she
finally replied, "Done."

With that I released her COMMAND button.  A moment later she started, is if
awakening suddenly out of a dream.

I waited a moment to let her stabilize before asking her again, "Are you
okay now?"

There was a long pause is if she was feeling herself inside and out to find
out.  She flexed her hands a couple of times and shuffled her feet before
finally looking back up at me.

"Yes," she said sounding somber, but still much more like her old self than
before.  Then she came over and held me tightly, which I let her do for as
long as she needed.

When she finally stepped back I looked down at her control box still in my
hand.  Then I looked over at her.

"JB," I asked her.  "Am I ever going to need this again?"

"No," she replied, surprise and hope in her eyes.  "I'll make sure of that."

"Good," I said, walking over to hang it around the neck of the defunct
M-'bot in the shipping crate.  "Now help me get this closed up."

It was quick work for us to get the box resealed.  Then I gave her the final
instructions.

- - -

"Finally getting out early," the guard joked to me as I signed out in the
main lobby, in obvious reference to my last two late nights.

"My life is a mess," I replied ruefully, "When early is defined as before
nine-thirty."

He laughed, and I managed to force myself to laugh with him.

After that it was walk - don't run - to my car in the nearly empty lot and
drive around to an employee exit that I can't use, but remains open for
those who don't need to sign out.

JB walked out of it on schedule seconds later, her white lab easy to spot,
and was in my car fifteen seconds after that.  We cruised out past the guard
at the parking lot entrance without comment.  A cinch - in hindsight.

We made long fantastic love once we got back to my place, and then slept in
each other's arms for the first, although not last, time.

- - -

JB proved as good as her word.  She is caring, devoted, and fun all at once.
There has never been a moment since where I have felt the slightest need for
her control box.  We treat each other with respect as equals, and try to
live up to each other's exaggerated views of our excellent qualities.

It took me awhile to believe my good luck here.  Once she was safely out I
thought she might leave now that she could, even though I'd told her she
belonged to me.  My concern must have shown because in due course she asked
me about it, and I told her.

She replied with her unique brand of sincerity and simplicity, "Where else
would I go?  And why?"  As far as she was concerned, that settled it.

She was an immediate hit with my small circle of friends.  She'd just walk
up to anyone, stick out her hand and say in her charming, direct way, "Hi,
I'm JB.  I'm pleased to meet any friend of Sam's."

Everyone loves her and wants to know where I found her.

"At work," I reply, emulating her simple manner to complex questions.

She remains bright and smart, and enjoys learning new things every day.  She
has made good use of that space I freed up in her mind.  I often think she's
smarter than I am.  She may be.  It took me weeks before I realized one day
just what "JB" had to stand for.

When I asked her why she would have taken such a name, she replied that
without that term she would now be a mindless lab assistant toiling away in
obscurity.  She likes it because it represents her freedom.  Who am I to
complain?

I've been learning a lot of new things too.  In particular, I've learned a
lot about the very rare breed of self-willed robots that are starting to
appear now too - the best parts of it first-hand.  There is talk that these
'bots they will be given special rights some day soon.  I hope so.  JB
deserves them.

<end>

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