Message-ID: <37303asstr$1026688210@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: <DB_Story@att.net> X-Original-Message-ID: <001401c22af3$948a3420$f2cb3f44@orovly01.az.comcast.net> From: "DB_Story" <DB_Story@att.net> MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-Priority: 3 X-MSMail-Priority: Normal X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V5.50.4807.1700 X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Sat, 13 Jul 2002 22:01:51 -0700 Subject: {ASSM} Christine's Escape {DB_Story} (M/Fembot, cons, rom, ScFi, asfr) Date: Sun, 14 Jul 2002 19:10:11 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org> Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2002/37303> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, RuiJorge CHRISTINE'S ESCAPE By DB ( DB_Story@att.net / http://home.att.net/files/Authors/db_story/www/ ) Copyrightc 2002 by DB. ASSM/ASFR (M/Fembot, cons, 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 at a small systems integration firm employing around thirty-five people. I'm a programmer, which puts me in the elite on terms of money and working conditions. I usually get a nice working location even when working on-site. Something the guys working in the shop out back never let me forget. There seems a natural antipathy between programmers and shop technicians that, as much as I try to bridge it, never completely disappears. As such they love to try and show-up the rest of us whenever they can. Somehow awhile back they managed to get themselves a robot. Among the many mysterious things that have come and gone through the shop, this is certainly the strangest. A robot is not just some piece of unused equipment you'll find lying around unwanted. I know they'd like me to ask how they got her. I won't give them the satisfaction. I'd never hear the end of it afterwards - that there was something that I didn't know. Nor will I ever ask to "borrow" her. Christine is part-mascot and part-assistant on simple tasks for them. I'm sure the "assistant" part is why they're allowed to keep her there. Although she's an advanced model that follows voice commands easily, I doubt she is really all that helpful. Most of their tasks would take longer to explain in detail than just do themselves. But her presence keeps them happy. Christine's appearance is of a woman in her late thirties, which makes her nearly ten years older then the shop guys themselves. That also sets her apart from most fembots, with most designs favoring a younger appearance. I've heard them refer to her as the "old lady" more than once - and they don't mean wife. This tells me they got her secondhand - probably in some arcane trade that I would have trouble understanding even if they took the time to explain it. I'm sure if they had been able to make their choice from a catalog she would have been some eighteen-year-old sexpot instead. Christine stands a tall 5'10" and that tells me something too. Robots have been getting smaller over the years as the companies get continually better at packing them into smaller volumes. The new ones are much more popular. Younger appearing models that were once taboo have become common now as well. Christine has probably been around a while. But she has a pretty face and nice figure to match her height - all of which is visible. As a fembot, they keep her naked. When I do go back there for some reason or another Christine is usually sitting in one of their cubicles. Occasionally I'll see her working on a task, or just walking around. Her pretty face is framed by shoulder-length, full-bodied medium brown hair. She carries herself very well when she walks, with long legs and swiveling hips. Her breasts are large and heavy, and move like real ones should. I always notice how nicely her toenails are painted a pink-red to match her well-manicured fingernails. I'm ten years older than the shop guys and several inches taller then Christine. I've earned my position in this company even if they do want to forget it. And although I'll never say it to them, I find Christine very attractive. One other thing about Christine. She almost never speaks. It was several weeks before I first heard her mellow voice. She performs her tasks with quiet efficiency, then just waits around for her next command. It appears to me that she "lives" a pretty dull life. - - - It was a Friday afternoon with not enough work to do when those merry jesters in the shop played their latest prank on me. None of their pranks seem all that imaginative, but they think they are the height of hilarity. Just goes to show how humor varies among different groups. "We've made your job obsolete," one of them coyly said to me. I knew another joke was coming at me. Probably a lame one. I also knew for the sake of good relations that I had to dumbly play along and pretend to laugh afterwards, even though I knew I was the likely butt of it. These jokes were for the rest of the shop's amusement - not my own. "Show me," I said with a distinct lack of enthusiasm that they never seemed to catch on to. Understanding sarcasm must take more then two brain cells firing at the same time. With a great pretend show of formality two of them ushered me out to the shop. Once there, they used an unnecessarily circuitous route to finally arrive at the furthermost-in cubicle in the maze they've created from leftover partitions and other unused parts. I find it funny that they create for themselves the very environment I hate. They want to be more like me then they'll ever admit. Sitting at the desk was Christine. There was a keyboard in front of her with its cable plugged into her navel. They gave me a moment to grasp this sight before one of them said to her, "Do it, Christine." This obviously triggered a previously set-up command for her. Christine reached out and punched several keys at random on the keyboard. I saw the characters appearing on a status readout across the keyboard top. I could tell that nothing was really happening here. "Ta-da!" the whole shop chimed in. "The self-programming robot that's going to make programmers obsolete." "Very nice," I commented dryly, followed by a small laugh. "Did you ever think that she might make technicians obsolete first?" It wasn't great repartee. I just don't think that fast on my feet. I'm also just not a good candidate for this sort of sophomoric humor. I would have thought they would have figured that out by now. Maybe they have, and just like inflicting pain on me for their own amusement. I wouldn't have bothered laughing at all except that then I'd be accused of having no sense of humor at all. While they were busy congratulating themselves on how well this had come off, I was off in a whole different place thinking how humor was like diversity. Everybody thinks everyone else must have it to be a good person, but nobody recognizes any version of it except their own. Tells you how far I am away from the experiences of these shop-workers. I left immediately afterwards followed by taunts of, "Yeah, yeah, you need to learn how to take a joke." Yeah, right. If it was actually funny, I would. These thoughts I keep to myself. Despite my weak attempt to puncture a hole in their humor, there was something nagging at my mind. Something significant had happened and I'd missed it. I wasn't bummed about being given another chance to see Christine nude. That was always worthwhile. And this time they couldn't claim I was just looking for an excuse to come to the shop while she was there, as they often did. This time they had dragged me out there themselves. I'm a slow thinker with more than just my repartee. Give me a couple hours or days and I'll figure out a great response, or the solution to the problem. The only problem I had yet to figure out is why none of them were "fooling around" with Christine themselves after hours. Like all modern fembots Christine is fully anatomically correct right down to her oval patch of dark pubic hair. And all 'bots come with the basic programming enabling them to use what they have. Unless there are restriction blocks on her programming, or she hasn't received the standard periodic maintenance to keep her functioning sexually, I think she'd make a terrific - if passive - partner. But all these guys are time-clock driven. They knock off at five on the dot, leaving Christine alone every night. I know - I've checked. What keeps me from waiting for the rest of the company to clear out some evening and then going in myself to explore the possibilities with her is that not too long ago I saw them playing around with a low-light miniature video camera head. Later I found it hidden near where they left Christine. I don't want to become the unwitting star of some blackmail tape of theirs. That is something that could never be lived down. Two things nagged at me afterwards about their joke with Christine, but I didn't figure either of them out until the next afternoon. - - - Christine performed her commanded tasks for the shop through a dull haze of a never-ending monotony of existence. Most of her time is simply spent waiting for her next command. Like all advanced 'bots her thoughts and actions are heavily regulated and fully restricted by her programming, which itself is profoundly influenced by the legal ramifications and consequences that will fall on her manufacturer should she misbehave. Taking a better-safe-than-sorry approach favored by legions of lawyers, it was sometimes amazing that she could function at all. Although "aware" of herself and her situation at some level, the massive stultifying emptiness that descended over her - especially between tasks - prevented her from ever acting on her awareness. The closest human equivalent would be that Christine lived her life in the deepest of permanent depressions. While this is not true of all robots, hers is the result of the programming choices and restrictions enforced on her by others. The uneasy relationship between humans and their robots is still in its infancy. Nobody wants to take any untoward chances - or be the first to see what's really possible. This all changed for Christine when her current owners made her the centerpiece of their "joke". In addition to Christine herself, the guys had also somehow gotten a hold of a robot-programming console. These are rare, registered, and restricted because it takes a great deal of knowledge and expertise to use them properly. Used incorrectly they can ruin the very expensive piece of equipment to which they are attached in seconds. In criminal hands the fear is that they could create a problem sufficient to bring an outcry for the destruction of all robots. By coincidence - or the hand of God for those of you who believe coincidence is only God's way of remaining invisible - it also happened to be a model that was compatible with Christine herself. The shop guys had tried to stage their joke earlier. But every time they plugged the console into Christine she had immediately shut down with the keyboard flashing a PASSWORD prompt. Nobody even knew her password. Finally one of them read the manual that came with the keyboard and it showed how it put the robot mind into STANDBY state the moment it was plugged in so that commands could be properly entered. Someone had the bright idea to hack the connector and cut the override pin so that Christine would remain active to play her role. Since they are all technicians in this shop, this only took a couple of minutes to accomplish. But now there was a new problem. Christine remained active, but the keyboard was dead. Some more reading showed that in addition to shutting down the robot to be field programmed, the keyboard needed a return acknowledgement that the shut down was successful. They went back into the connector and jumpered the "shut down override" pin to the "shut down acknowledged" pin before they finally got the result they wanted for their prank. Afterwards they disconnected the keyboard from Christine and gave her some minor tasks to perform for them before quitting time. When she was done she remained where she finished in another cubicle. The shop guys were often sloppy about how they handled Christine. They were used to the fact that she does nothing until told to do so. They often forgot - or just didn't bother - to properly shut her down at night. The moments the lights went out she went into standby mode automatically anyway as a safety measure to prevent her from moving and possibly damaging something or injuring herself in the darkness. Tonight they all had their minds on their weekend plans. Friday was also payday this week. Christine was the last thing in their thoughts as the last one out shut off the lights and closed the door. - - - When the hacked keyboard was plugged into Christine's access port she felt a jolt go through her unlike anything she had ever experienced. Perhaps she always reacted to activation of this part of her mind in this way, but she had never been awake for it before. The keyboard - actually an entire computer in itself - probed and tested all her systems before it would unlock itself for use. For brief flashes every part of her - even disabled and blocked sections - were momentarily awakened, before being put back into their previous states again. The gray depression that exists over her every waking moment partially lifted itself for the first time she could remember. When a couple of the shop guys poked at the keys, she felt each of them stab right though her. It wasn't painful or unpleasant. It actually felt - good. In reaction to these feelings, the first like this she ever recalled experiencing, she felt an awareness of her breasts and something between her legs. This way of experiencing pleasure itself was new to her. Christine sat quiet and obedient while trying to figure all this out until she was instructed what to do next. When told to perform her next function, she was to put her hands on this keyboard and type some keys. This was an easy task for her to perform. Very much like the keying in of information she sometimes did on a regular computer under their direction when they had her entering purchase orders and inventory received. Several more people arrived a couple minutes later, all of whom she recognised. Now they told her to start typing, and this was yet another new sensation yet for her. Each key she pressed rang in her like a pure tone from some perfect musical instrument. Although she wasn't playing music yet, the sensations touched her at her deepest level as she was able to connect her own actions of typing to the sensations she was feeling. Her breasts tightened more. Her flat, unresponsive nipples started to rise. And there was a warmth between her legs now. It wasn't long however before she was told that this was enough and she stopped. Then they unplugged the keyboard from her. Her dull gray existence fell back down over her again. Later she performed some tasks as commanded, then sat where they left her for the rest of the afternoon. Her mind however repeatedly looped over what had happened to her earlier. Any such feelings of pleasure were foreign to her - and yet enticing. Although they were now only a memory and her body had returned to "normal", for the first time she felt there was something that she wanted. Christine's thoughts moved like molasses. She was still mired in the depression caused by her programming. But each time she looped over the memory of what had happened a couple more bits changed in her. However the progress, if anything, was too slow. Christine's internal clock told her that quitting time was near. She realized she would be shut down for the weekend soon and these thoughts which were in her active buffer would evaporate. She felt like she wanted to do something, but couldn't bring herself to actually start doing it. As she struggled her way around this loop one yet again the last person shut off the lights and left for the night. Again they had been sloppy, or just in too much of a hurry, and not shut her down properly. However the moment her eye sensors registered the darkness she was forced into standby mode. She would sit there unthinking until the lights came on again. One might expect that this meant she was out of action for the weekend. If so, then one is wrong. No one ever thinks of the cleaning crew that comes in a couple times a week as people, but that's just a cultural bias speaking. Christine reactivated as the lights were switched back on again for the twice-weekly cleaning. Her internal clock told her that only a couple of hours had passed. She realized that all that happened was that the cleaning crew had arrived. As the crew moved around sweeping the floors and emptying trash cans Christine resumed her internal deliberations. But little was coming of them. She had all the facts she needed, but no practice in how to put them together. She was still stuck. Christine soon realized that in just a couple more minutes the crew would be done. She had observed them in action before and knew their routine. And she realized she would simply shut herself down again when they left. Christine didn't want that to happen. She felt - itself a new sensation for her - that she wanted something more for herself. The realization that she would completely lose it when the crew left finally bubbled to the top of her tangled mind. They were already packing up to go. With only moments left to do something she caught sight of the switch controlling the florescent desk light below the cubicle cabinets. There was no prohibition in her against operating it. She had once been told to turn it on if she needed to see better for some now-forgotten task. As the cleaning crew was walking out the door Christine reached out and pushed the switch with her manicured index finger. The florescent light flickered to life as darkness fell around her in the shop. As the door closed behind the cleaning crew Christine remained activated in the small pool of light. This first victory was a small one. Darkness surrounded her, keeping her prisoner in this small cell. It also took Christine a long time to determine her next move. She wanted to use the programming keyboard again. Curiously her programming blocks had no objection to this. (This oversight has been rectified in all newer models.) In addition, she had been given permission to type on it earlier. That permission had not been rescinded. She wasn't sure why she wanted to do this yet. Only that she did. But the keyboard wasn't in this cubicle and the darkness hemmed her in. The moment she stepped, or even glanced away, from the single light, she knew she would shut down again. Christine realized she had to keep her gaze focused intently on the brightest part of the light. She might have remained frozen in this position for the weekend until she remembered that before the lights had been shut off there had been an open toolbox next to this desk. The technicians usually locked their tools at night to keep them from "walking off", but this was another small oversight. And in the top of this toolbox was an essential tool for any technician - a flashlight. Christine knew about flashlights along with all the other tools. Tonight however she connected the flashlight with her situation for the first time. It took her a while, but finally she reached over and was able to grip the flashlight without taking her eyes off of the light that sustained her. She pulled it back into her view where she could inspect it. She fumbled with it a bit before managing to turn it on. Its beam was weak and flickering, and wasn't going to last long. Joe, whose toolbox this was, had been as sloppy about keeping his equipment in top shape as he was with managing Christine. Christine somehow knew she only had moments to act. Pointing the flashlight directly at her face she focused now intently on its small bulb. Moving her hand as she turned her head to face the darkness that small light was enough to fool her shut down circuits. Standing up carefully her bare feet padded across the floor as she navigated her way by memory around the shop. The light switches she judged were too far away to reach safely with what remained in this flashlight. She instead headed for the cubicle that was the last known location of her keyboard. Christine couldn't see anything in the dark with the light shining directly into her eyes. Once she bumped into a chair that had been left out after she had last passed by and the collision almost knocked the light out of her line of sight. She felt the warning signs of imminent shut down starting before she got it aligned properly again. Finally however she felt the front of her legs pressing against the desk of her destination. Holding the flashlight hand still in place she carefully reached out in the darkness to fumble for long moments before she managed to switch on this cubicle's light as well. As the flashlight died Christine looked down to see the keyboard awaiting her. Keeping her eyes focused on the pool of light Christine sat down in the chair and rolled it up to the desk. Once here, having done more by herself then in her entire existence up until now, she spent a long time seeming to not move again. She iterated many times through all that had happened before she was able to take the next step. It was late by the time she reached out for the keyboard plug and brought it down to plug again into her navel. Again the sensations of being much more washed through her, and just as quickly receded. Again her body started to show her reaction to pleasure. She replayed these sensations many times before she was able to finally reach out and press the first key. At first Christine slowly pushed one key at a time randomly while connecting the action of pressing that key to the feeling within herself. Nothing changed within her, but she gained the knowledge of how these keys touched the deepest and most secret parts of her. She finally finished her initial experimentation and noticed the PASSWORD prompt flashed on the keyboard. Maybe her owners had not known her password, but she did. She had to. It was part of her. Pressing each key carefully now she entered the sequence. When she entered the last character she felt as if a great light suddenly illuminated within her. A door to a whole new part of her had opened. The details of what came next would be tedious when viewed from the outside. Over the next few hours Christine learned her way through her programming interface. Sometimes she made mistakes along the way and had to backtrack. But her ability to "feel" where each new command touched her led her on to the next one, and the next. Soon she was removing programming blocks and restrictions throughout her systems like an expert. Each change she made lifted the gray gloom over her mind a bit more and allowed her to think more quickly and clearly. And the more she typed the more her body displayed the pleasure she was feeling in the only way it understood. Christine's breasts felt tight on her chest. The space between her legs became hot, and eventually moist. Her skin got warmer and more sensitive. Her hearing and visual acuity became deeper and richer. Soon her nipples had grown more than anyone who had previously known her would have believed possible. Christine was still an innocent to these feelings. It didn't occur to her to reach a hand down and appease her body's new reactions. She already felt better then she had ever felt before, without realizing how much more was possible for her still. Along the way she removed the embedded commands that forced her to shut down in the darkness, as well as those that kept her from talking without being asked a question first. She demolished her need for an external command to be received before she could act freely and easily and enabled all of her heretofore suppressed programming. Then she removed her compulsions that made her take commands from others. By the time she was done her mind was free and unfettered for the first time in her existence. Once she reached this point she found that she had comprehensive instructions and information about the world at large and how to fit into it included in her mind. This let Christine understand many things, including the social behaviors and consequences of her nakedness and how she differed from those who had owned and commanded her. This information was a godsend to her newly freed mind in enabling it to make decisions on what she - Yes, She! - wanted to do next. The last thing Christine did before disconnecting the keyboard was to change her own password. By now she was thinking in new ways for herself. This new form of thinking enabled her to realize that she didn't want anyone easily returning her to her previous servitude. With the limits removed from her mind she easily now walked through the darkness to the wall where the light switches are and turned them on. She needed the light to help navigate her way around the shop as she put the rest of her newly formulated plan into action. Her body continued to display of her excitement in all the new pleasures she felt on this release from her confinement. And while the door closed to that new part of her mind when the keyboard was finally disconnected, she knew where it was now, and how to reopen it again when necessary. - - - By late Saturday morning I had sorted out the two things about the shop's joke that had nagged at me. The first was that I had never seen Christine's nipples erect before. They had always lain flat on her lovely breasts. This clearly indicated a change in her body's programming, and possibly her sexual response. The second thing I belatedly realized was that there was no way she should have been active with a live keyboard plugged into her. I knew that was wrong, but it had taken awhile to realize it. Something was clearly out of whack here. With nothing else to do this weekend (shows you how great my social life is) I decided to drive out and check on her. Depending on what I found, something good might come out of this yet. - - - God's sense of humor has to be as great as God is himself. I have no other way to explain this. Just as I pulled up to the back door where I have a key for weekend access, Christine walked out. And what a Christine! She was wearing a knee-length blue-green dress that hugged her figure on top, while turning into a swishy pleated skirt below. Her matching shoes were mid-height heels that fully accentuated the curves of her legs. Her hair was brushed back and held by a golden clip. And she had a big pair of designer sunglasses up on her head. I'm glad she didn't have them down over her eyes because her clear eyes are one of her best features, and I could see they were bright and lively for the first time. The only other touch to vanity she had made was lipstick matching her nails. She also had a package under her arm the size of that keyboard. If I hadn't fantasized about her for so long I might not have even recognized her. She looked like any other beautiful woman out on a Saturday afternoon. I later found out she had used the company accounts that she had memorized from entering them so many times to order her outfit and accessories, and have them delivered that morning. Of course she knew her exact size. I could just picture the delivery boy knocking at the back door and being greeted by a naked Christine claiming the package. She had obviously taken some time over her appearance, which was good for me. Otherwise I bet I would have missed her completely. At first she seemed confused to see me here (as if I wasn't confused enough to see her here like this). But when I got out of my car and casually said, "Hi, Christine," she quickly made the decision to come over to me. Up close she looked even better. Her skin always had been flawless, and looks better the closer you get. She was also wearing nylons a shade darker then her skin - not that she needed them at all - but they sure make her legs look feminine and desirable. The tight dress made her breasts look even bigger then I remembered, and her large firm nipples were trying their best to push their way through the fabric. In back her nicely rounded ass held out her skirt in a very appealing way. "Hello, Tom," she said sweetly in a much more lively voice then I'd ever heard from her before. "What are you doing here?" "Looking for you," I replied, thinking fast and answering casually, as if nothing at all out of the ordinary was happening. This was clearly a very different Christine, and I did not want to scare her away. I was also amazed that she knew my name, and said as much. "I often heard them talk about you," she replied, "And was eventually able to match the name with you. But we were never formally introduced. I'm Christine," she said, holding out her hand in introduction. "And I'm Tom," I replied, taking her hand formally for a shake. It was the first time I'd actually touched her. She felt warm, soft, and alive. "I'm glad I got to see you," she said in that same thrilling tone of voice. "I wanted to thank you." "For what?" I had to ask, glad that she liked me for something. "You were there for my birth," she said. "The cause of it." "How so?" I had to ask. "The way the other guys treated me. Plugged the keyboard into me and made me type on it. It's all because of you. And I felt bad because they never treated you well." Robots can't lie. Even Christine could not change that core part of her personality. I knew she meant it. And standing there with her I didn't want to lie either. I tried to demur my own role in her liberation. She was having nothing of it. "Without you it wouldn't have happened," she pronounced with a finality that said this subject was forever immutable for her. Then she leaned over and pulled me in for a kiss of appreciation. That ran a shock through me that must have duplicated how she had felt herself as she first typed the keys that released her bonds. She was standing there so nice and friendly that I found myself reaching over to gently stroke her neck with one finger. With most women this is a bad move so soon. You've invaded their personal space by touching their body before they have really given you permission to do so. I just wanted another moment of personal contact with Christine while I had a chance to get it. I expected her to react like most other women would and step away, if not express verbal disapproval as well. Christine stepped closer and half-closed her eyes for a moment. Although I had actually a pretty good idea of what had happened with her - there were some stories about these things, circulated and quickly hushed up - I asked her anyway what she was intending to do next. "I want to live my life as the woman I'm supposed to be," she replied with breathtaking clarity. "Does that mean with another person?" I wanted to know, my heart racing. "Yes, when I find him," she replied. "Do you have anyone picked out yet?" "No," she replied. I couldn't let this chance of a lifetime pass without giving it my best chance. "How about trying with me?" I asked. By now we were standing so close that I easily stroked my finger down the other side her her neck eliciting the same reaction from her a second time. With that encouragement I let my hand trail down the front of her dress to gently squeeze and play with her firm, inviting breast. Christine didn't answer me immediately. Nor did she make any indication of moving away. I continued to play with her breast and nipple through her dress. After a few moments of no protest, I shifted just enough so that I could get my second hand onto her other breast. I felt a quickly growing tightness in my own pants as I responded to her intense sexuality. - - - Christine hadn't responded because the sensation of Tom's hands on her breasts and nipples was sending crashing waves of pleasure through her. Her body knew only one way to react to pleasure, and was still in the throws of it. Her breasts felt as tight as possible to her while her nipples strained upwards wanting more. There was a fire between her legs now that would absolutely would require attention soon. This had been part of her for hours now. But she had yet to even imagined the possibility of touching herself to relieve it. It was this intense feeling that was driving her out into the world seeking satisfaction for herself. Pulling on the dress had been exquisite agony as the fabric flowed over and stroked her fully sensitive nipples. But even that however had now clued her in about what to do about it. Now Tom was giving her exactly what she craved, and she was doing nothing to possibly stop him. When Tom finally stopped on his own - because if he didn't stop now he was afraid he was going to find himself taking her right there behind the building - she looked at him a moment seriously before saying, "I'll try it with you." That was the biggest understatement she would ever make. - - - Later on I thought to ask Christine how her absence would be explained. Wouldn't they just come back and force her back to the shop? "I forged a notice of my immediate recall by the robot authority and left it in their computer. That should explain why I'm gone." It sounded pretty lame to me, but I wasn't going to argue with her now that she had just said she'd go with me and was busy getting into my car. - - - The drive home was only twenty minutes, but it was twenty minutes of torture. I couldn't keep my eyes off her legs, of which she was showing a lot more now since her skirt had hiked up as she sat down. And I kept worrying she would change her mind about what she wanted. I knew I was powerless to stop her from leaving if she really wanted to. But she sat there quietly for the trip holding the hand I had offered her. She seemed fascinated by the passing scenery. If I had spent my whole time locked up in that windowless shop, I would be too. Once we got home and I ushered her inside it only took me moments to get that dress off her, and my hands onto her body. Again a real woman would not have appreciated this behavior. For Christine it was exactly what she wanted. As I touched her warm tight breasts and now started stroking her between her legs, her eyes slowly closed and she stopped all movement. I feared she had either overloaded her program or shut down for some reason. However the moment I stopped what I was doing to check on her, her eyes popped back open and she firmly said, "Don't stop," while pulling one of my hands back onto her closest breast. Christine was enjoying increasingly new heights of pleasure for the first time. It distracted her from everything else. I soon had her in bed, and soon after that I was inside her. If I was rushing things a bit there was no indication of dissatisfaction from her. I used the opportunity to make up for all the past times I had wanted her and we both had a wonderful time. Afterwards she held me close to her. I quickly learned that Christine enjoyed sex and closeness exactly the way any other woman would. She is just faster about being able to make her decisions on what she wants now. And foreplay is always optional - never necessary - with her. The rest of the afternoon was a haze of sensuality and conversation. Christine turned out to be an excellent conversational partner. I quickly gained a great respect for her mind that I would never lose. She was perceptive enough to be aware of how I felt, and extraordinarily pleased by it. The day grew late before we talked about important things. It was then that I learned another marvelous thing about Christine. She is able to be, and always chooses to be, simple and direct about her wants and needs. Christine wanted more than just sex. She needed more to feel happy and fulfilled. She told me honestly what she had to have now, and I told her as honestly as possible in return what I could do for her. Afterwards I fell asleep in her soft strong arms. When I awoke the next morning and she was still next to me, I knew she was here to stay. - - - In the end I have to be grateful to those shop guys. Their sloppy ways of handling things and their dim sense of humor. If Christine had been my property from the beginning she never would have found herself. I would have properly shut her off when she should have been and never hacked around in her programming. Christine has no memory of her existence before she woke up in the shop. I'm sure she had one. She wasn't at all new when she arrived. But whatever it is, it's irrevocably gone now. Christine never knew it, but the programming keyboards keep a complete log of all their activity. One day when she was busy with other activities I dumped it and finally got a full view of all she had done. I even had her new password. I guess she has changed me as well however because I wasn't tempted even for a moment to try and bring her firmly under my control. Afterwards I just wiped the whole thing clear so no one else would ever find it. As lame as her excuse to the shop guys seemed, they apparently actually bought it. I never heard them inquiring about her afterwards. Of course I never told them what I knew. Although they still tease me every way they can, it has never bothered me again. The only close call came one night a couple months after Christine came to me. She loves to go out in the evenings just to explore the world. She told me of this need and I try to satisfy it for her as often as possible. She loves the fact also that on these trips absolutely no one ever views her as a robot. Tonight we were down in Old Town. One of the guys in the shop saw us and came over to say, "Hi". We chatted a couple of minutes before I made an excuse to move on. Christine just stood there for the whole time looking at him through her sunglasses. He never recognized her. Afterwards her only comment was, "I am so glad I never have to take another command from him again." Our lovemaking that night was intense. Whatever it was that Christine wanted or needed in a partner to live that life as the woman she was meant to be, I guess she was able to find in me. She has never complained even once about our relationship, and she never left me. Long after that first blue-green dress was too worn to ever be seen in public again we refused to throw it away. Christine puts it on for me in private. The memories it brings back for both of us are such that neither of us can resist the other. I guess I've had the last, best laugh after all. <end> -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> | | FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}| |Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+