Message-ID: <34396asstr$1009897809@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: From: "DB_Story" 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-Arrival-Date: Mon, 31 Dec 2001 12:25:43 -0700 Subject: {ASSM} (new) "My Working Weekend" {DB_Story} (M/Fembot, rom, ScFi, ASFR) Date: Tue, 1 Jan 2002 10:10:09 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, RuiJorge Lines: 1043 MY WORKING WEEKEND By DB ( DB_Story@att.net / http://DB_Story.home.att.net ) Copyrightc 2001 by DB. ASSM/ASFR (M/Fembot, rom, ScFi) (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 fits in with my emerging cosmology about the evolution of robots into our near future society. Read it now, and be prepared. A special thanks to Cyberczar for his excellent and much appreciated proofreading. All remaining mistakes are mine. - - - >>One day our robots started to grow up -- and then things got interesting<< Robots became part of our company six months ago. We're on the small end of the Fortune 500 company list. Normally quite conservative, we seldom do anything first. And we value our employees. But circumstances intervened, as they always do. Maggie, our President and CEO's secretary for nearly fifteen years, left to get married. Everyone expected Bill to promote from within, even though we'd had a lot of turnover among the other senior secretaries these last couple of years. Even now, we four vice presidents were sharing two secretaries among us, neither of them executive level. Still, it was a huge surprise when Bill returned with Sally to be Maggie's replacement. Robots - actually Sally is technically a fembot - are still rare and expensive items. Since Bill's family owns a majority of the stock, he can really do anything he wants, but he seldom rocks the boat. There is nothing wrong with robots. From the first models that actually could fit into and interact in a work environment six years ago, they had been improving steadily since. I hadn't realized how much they had improved, until now. For once, we were an early adopter. Less than twenty percent of the 500 companies had yet added robot workers at the executive level. We were on the cutting edge, so to speak. Of course, word went through the company like wildfire. Absolutely EVERYBODY found some excuse to come up to the executive floor to look at her. This might not have been a problem, except that everybody needed an excuse to come up, and that meant that the remaining four of us were inundated with business that barely qualified as trivial. We considered suggesting that Sally should just walk through the entire building each morning just to be seen, so that the rest of us could get some work done. And there wasn't all that much to see. Sally looked like an attractive, professional woman, maybe 29 years old, with flowing blonde hair. She was medium height, and wore white blouses, dark knee-length skirts, and low heels. She affected a professional demeanor from the very beginning that couldn't be called "cold," but she was just attractive enough - and business oriented enough - to prevent anyone from trying to become her "friend." She was either at her desk, or in Bill's office, virtually all the time, though she would occasionally deliver something to the rest of the company. All in all, what did she look like? She looked like an attractive woman with a good business attitude - nothing more. Maggie did come back to spend a week with Sally, explaining the job, showing her the ropes, and filling her in on the tribal knowledge that exists in any company. I cornered Maggie on her last day. "So, Maggie, what is she really like?" Maggie looked me over carefully before answering. She'd been at the company long before I'd joined it four years ago. But she'd also taken me under her wing in the intervening time, like a surrogate mother, and I saw her face soften. I gave one more little push. "Come on, Maggie. You know I'm going to have to work with her, now that you've abandoned me." That totally melted her. "Steve, she is just like any other nice person. And you'd better treat her nicely too." "Who? Me? I'm afraid to even approach her. What if I ask for something that breaks her? My paycheck couldn't afford to replace her." Maggie looked at me, and then realized I was kidding. You'd better treat her well, Steve," she repeated sternly, then smiled and gave me a big hug. "Just be nice to Sally, and everything will be fine." "Well, good luck to you too," I said, as she swept out of the office. * * * In truth, I had only been half kidding with Maggie. I was very apprehensive about dealing with Sally. Even though I'm single, I have long been comfortable dealing with women. But I had no idea how to properly relate to a robot - or even if it mattered. Over the next few weeks, I only approached Sally when I couldn't avoid it. I always slowly and clearly enunciated my requests to her, and never had a problem. Over time we became acclimated to her being there, and eventually I started to think of her as another worker. The only difference was that, no matter how late I worked, she'd be sitting at her desk outside Bill's office when I left. And no matter how early I came in, she was always there waiting. I didn't know if she automatically shutdown at night, and I wasn't going to ask. And I did work a lot of late hours, and some weekends. I knew how fortunate I was to hold the position I have, and my job is really most of my life. At times Sally, myself, and the cleaning crew, were the only ones in the building. But unless I needed something from her, we never talked. * * * It was a couple of months later when I began noticing small changes. Sally was becoming more personable. I started to hear laughter come from her desk as she joked with people up here on business. Her attire became more varied as well. More colorful at times, different length skirts (including one very short one with a slit that always caught my eye), and occasional tops so shear that I could see her lingerie underneath. Possibly her mind - supposedly the best currently available - was adapting to our way of doing business. Then one Saturday, while I was busy beavering away in my office, she came to my door and asked me how it was going. Without thinking how unexpected this was, I just told her. "So far, so bad." "What's the problem?" she asked, with genuine concern. "It's this Carson case. They want all kinds of information, for no good reason." "But they'll be unhappy if they don't get it," Sally finished for me. "Exactly." "Well, let me see if I can help." Sally came over and looked at the spreadsheet I was trying to complete. "Where are you working now?" I showed her the section I was laboriously filling in. "Let me look for this then," she said, pointing out a section further down that I was already dreading. "I think I know where that data may be hiding." She went back to her desk, quickly filling in the information, then came back for more. Over the next couple of hours, we completed the task that I had felt was going to take me all weekend. Then we just talked for awhile. Afterwards I realized, she had learned a great deal about me with her careful questions. But I didn't care. She had an easy conversational style that just put me at ease. And I had learned something important too. That I could just treat her like any other woman, and whatever clever programming she had inside her made it all came out okay. I sincerely thanked her for all her help on the way out. "Have a great weekend," she said with a cheery smile as I waved goodbye from the elevator. "You too," I responded, without thinking that the rest of her weekend would be spent sitting at her desk. * * * Next weekend I also had to go in, this time just for a quick touch-up on another report. To my very unexpected surprise though, Sally was not at her desk. I didn't really need her help with this one, but I realized that I had enjoyed her company. I wasn't worried that she had been stolen. We have security up the wazzu. Either she was running an errand, or maybe she had to report back to her factory for preventative maintenance. I realized that I missed her. I kidded her about it Monday. "I missed you here this weekend." "Oh," she said, her lips making a perfect "O" of surprise. "Bill took me home with him to get the bids out. Did you need something?" "Only your company," I replied gallantly. "I was worried that something might have happened to you." "You're so sweet," she replied, with a warm smile. Sally had definitely improved her smile repertoire these last few weeks. After that, I observed that Sally was gone most weekends, or at least on the ones when I was working. Bill was more productive than ever though, so things were humming along well for all of us. * * * The big change came soon after, when one of our two remaining secretaries suddenly quit. Bill spent a couple days holed up in his office with Sally, before coming out and relocating our final secretary to what was actually a very good position with one of our divisions back in her own home town. It was a move she'd talked about wanting to make for awhile now, so it was a good thing for her. The next day, we received two more fembot replacements. This move didn't cause near the same furor as Sally's arrival had only months earlier. By now, the concept of having robots doing secretarial tasks had permeated the company, and we were able to continue with our work mostly uninterrupted. Sally herself trained the replacements. And no, they don't look like they were stamped out of the same mold. Tish is about Sally's size, with darker skin, auburn eyes and hair, and the slightest touch of a European accent. She seems made for this job, and quickly took over the duties for all three of my colleagues. She was joking with them from the first day, and they all love her. Lori is taller, slimmer, and lighter skinned. What I would call tall, but not tall tall. Her rich dark hair, clear green eyes, and much quieter manner, made it hard to believe she could have come from the same factory. Although all the fembots have full figures, Lori's slimmer build sets hers off the best. And unlike Sally, Tish and Lori arrived with far more elegant and diverse wardrobes from the get go. When it comes to paperwork, I really do have more than the other three VPs put together, so Lori's service was dedicated solely to me. This has led to some good-natured ribbing from my colleagues (all three of who are married) that I really needed a woman in my life the most, and maybe I'd have better luck with a robot. I would point out to them in return that Bill is also single (nearly five years now), and that the obvious route to running this company was to not be tied down at home. And while they and Tish were always teasing each other, with Sally taking over Maggie's place as den mother, Lori remained much like Sally when Sally had first arrived: quiet and business-like. Everything seemed settled into routine, until I decided to take that weekend off - or was I pushed into it * * * I'm not much for vacations. Don't know what to do with unstructured time on my hands. But I'd just finished - with Lori's indispensable help - three, seven-day-weeks of getting through the biggest deal of the year. Everyone had worked hard on it. Even the girls looked tired. But I had borne the brunt. "Steve, take the weekend off. You've more than earned it." "Thanks, Bill. I'll probably go home and just collapse for the weekend." "No. I mean get out of here altogether. Somewhere that doesn't look like your bedroom between all-nighters. Here. Go to my cabin up by the lake." "Are you sure?" "Heck yeah. I hardly get up myself anymore. And you look like you need it." "Well, if you insist..." "Go!" In addition to Bill's large mansion (built by his grandfather back when that's how one showed one's money), Bill has a cabin on the lakeshore about three hours drive from here, in a restricted development area. While it's log cabin rustic from the outside, it has every comfort and amenity inside. Bill jokes that it's actually worth more than his mansion, and he may be right. He also says that someday he is going to put a giant swimming pool on the mansion grounds, and move the cabin to that shore, just so that he can enjoy it himself once in awhile. That I know is a joke. Its present location cannot be improved upon. Minutes later, I was gone. I stopped by my place only long enough to grab some outdoor clothes, hiking boots, and toiletry items. I was already planning for a couple days of hiking and fishing, far from the maddening crowd. It was mid-fall, and already dark near 7pm as I drove up the twisty two-lane road for the last hour. The lights of the tiny village that supported the residents slipped by, and another five minutes would have me at the cabin. I didn't bother to stop on the way, since I knew the cabin was fully stocked with food, and everything else one could possibly need. At the cabin, I parked the car and went inside. A few minutes later I was enjoying a hot chocolate in front of a roaring fire, shoes off, on the softest couch in the world. Just as all the cares were finally slipping away, the phone rang. Damn! It was Bill. "I hate to bother you, Steve, but a last minute hitch came up." "What do you need?" I asked, immediately alert. "The customer never received the legal agreement. And wants some changes they neglected to mention as well. They need a physically signed copy by Monday." Well, there went the weekend. "I'll head right back down." "No, that's not necessary." "But how can I handle it otherwise?" "Have Lori bring it up to you. In the den there is a complete computer setup. You can produce the final draft there, and overnight it out of local post office before noon tomorrow." "But how would she get up here." "Have her arrange a car and drive up." "Can she do that?" "Of course she can. That's part of her updated city-skills set." Updated skills? I let that pass. "Are you sure you don't need me back there?" "Completely. This is not something to ruin your weekend over. In fact, I insist that you take Monday off as well. You've more then earned it." "Well..." "Yes. No arguments. Call Lori and arrange it. And I will see you Tuesday." The click on the phone was final. I dialed my office. Two rings, and then, "Steve Taylor's office. How may we help you?" "Lori, it's Steve." "Yes, Mr. Taylor." "Do you have the Finnberg legal agreement?" "Yes. It's right here." "Do you know where Bill's lakefront cabin is located, and how to get here?" There was a pause, then, "Yes." "Can you arrange a car on the company account, and bring those documents to me right now?" "Yes I can." "Then please do so." "I will be there in three hours and twelve minutes. Is there anything else?" "No, that will do it." "Okay then. Goodbye, Mr. Taylor." * * * The rental car company delivered the car to the main entrance. Only the building guard saw the tall, elegant woman dressed in a slinky black dress, sash over her arm, high heels, and a briefcase leave the building. Whoever she was, she was clearly headed out for a night on the town with some lucky guy. * * * It was nearly 11:30pm when Lori's rental pulled up to the cabin. I heard the noise (it is very quite up here otherwise at night) and met her at the door. I caught my breath at her appearance. I hadn't known she had anything like this in her wardrobe. Black-sequined evening dress, V-cut in front, and slit up the side. Deep red lipstick was perfectly complemented her eyes and hair. Dark nylons, and three-inch black pumps with spike heels that seemed completely out of place here in the wilderness, completed her outfit. "It seemed the appropriate evening dress," she said, answering my unasked question. I wondered just what kind of programming Lori had for "evenings." "Did you want to work on this now, or in the morning?" she continued. I'm not a morning person, but make up for it with my endurance in the later hours of the night. Rather than worry about this all night and then have to rush to make the noon deadline tomorrow, it was better to finish it now and be done with it. Then Lori could go home. The late hours wouldn't affect her anyway. Once we started, Lori was all business. In a move that showed me how I had never paid close an attention to her in the past, she went to the cabin's well-equipped computer setup, unplugged the keyboard. Then, taking a thin cable out of her purse, plugged herself from somewhere under her dress, directly into the keyboard port. Maybe she was always plugged in this way at the office, and I never noticed. Or was she just tied into our wireless network. It didn't matter. She looked at me, registered my expression, and said, "It's just a lot faster for me this way." Whatever. We read over the marked-up copy and additional revision notes together, and she started making corrections as fast as I could dictate them. Her attention never flagged. By 2am, she was printing out the final draft. Before I knew it, she was putting it into the mailing envelope - already addressed - and unplugging herself from the computer system. I was happy, and went out to sample a bottle of Bill's excellent brandy collection that had caught my eye while she finished packaging up the document. Then she followed me out, and went over to sit down on the long couch. It was such a natural gesture, that I thought of her as only another, tired co-worker. So rather than send her back down the hill to mail the envelope and return to the office, I went over and sat down on the other end of the couch, and just relaxed too. Finally I looked over at her and said, "Thanks for everything, Lori. The long trip. The late hours. Just helping me get this thing done and finished tonight." I realized I wasn't going to send her back down in the middle of the night, so I added, "Is there anything I can do for you tonight?" She looked back at me and clearly said, "I would really enjoy it if you could rub my breasts a bit." If I hadn't been so tired, and with the brandy already working its magic, I might have reacted more to this. Instead, I just asked, "Do what?" "Rub my breasts," she said again. "I really like it, and I can't do it myself." Well, here I was alone with this lovely woman(?), out in the middle of nowhere, with no one else around, who had finished getting me out of hours of work. And she only asked for something I would willingly do for anyone else. Why should there be a problem? It still took me a long time before I finally said, "Come over here." Lori slid across the couch and turned around so that she could lie against me in the corner. I carefully set my brandy down, and then put my hands around her to reach the desired area. I remember how clean her hair smelled. Easy to notice since her head was nestled just below my chin. At first, I only gently brushed my hands over her prominent bust, ready to pull away in an instant if there was any protest. There was none. I then lightly traced the open V on her chest, and came back up to softly stroke her neck. I felt her relax more fully against me. Down again to her chest, I slid my hands under the fabric, and then inside her delicate, lacy bra, and finally, lightly, stroked the full length of each breast once, bumping over the firm, nipple high up on each one. I started to ask her if this is really what she wanted. But Lori was now so comfortably relaxed up against me now, that the question didn't seem necessary - or desirable. I decided that if I was going to do this, I ought to do it right. So I pushed her up and away from me enough so that I could unzip the back of her dress. She then helped me as I then pulled it down her arms, baring her down to her waist. I then unhooked and removed that lacy black bra. With a contented sigh, she again settled back against me, eyes closed, waiting. As I reached around her again, I realized how warm, and human, she felt and smelled, with just a trace of some lovely perfume. I started by tracing the contours of these lovely breasts she had so clearly offered to me. After a minute of this however, her soft whimper urged me onward. I started to work directly on them, gently, admiring how firm they actually were. Lying back on me, they stood out as firmly as when she had been sitting up. They weren't the rock hard type of so many implants, but just nicely firm. As she snuggled more tightly against me, I became bolder and handled them more roughly. Lori made no protest, and I became aware that her nipples had become impossibly firm and erect. I focused my attention on those nipples, and suddenly she tensed, and then with a loud moan, arched her back for a long moment, before relaxing again. Eyes still closed, she whispered, "Thank you so very much." But since she didn't open her eyes, or move away, I continued my ministrations over her chest. By her third orgasm, she had slipped off her heels, and slipped out of her dress and remaining undergarments. Only her nylons remained on her legs, giving them a smooth, sexy appearance that I really liked. With one of my hands still roaming over her chest, and the other now stroking her between her legs, she had two more, full orgasms, before she suddenly sat back up and turned to look at me. I started to say something, but she put her finger to my lips to silence me. I wondered what was next. My own needs, which I had mostly managed to ignore so far, were quickly rising within (and without) me. Lori bent forward, and tentatively kissed me on the lips. When I accepted her kiss, she came back more firmly and fully with several more. Then she bent down and pulled open the top button on my shirt with her teeth. She looked back up to me after that, to make sure I didn't object, before going on to the next button. And that became her pattern with each piece of clothing. In the same way I would have undressed a new woman on our first intimate encounter - slowly, carefully, and making sure at each step that I still had her permission to continue - Lori undressed me. It was clear that she was the tentative one in our encounter. When she finally removed the last piece, she started to bend down again to my waist. But I reached down and pulled her up, first to kiss me again, and then down on me, face-to-face. When it was clear what I wanted, she quickly positioned herself over me, and then gently guided me into her. My time inside her seemed endless. She was warm, and wet, and very soft. And she stroked me slowly, keeping me just on the edge. With her doing all the work, I just lay there drifting for timeless moments. Finally I couldn't take it any longer. Every few minutes she had been pausing and squeezing me within her as hard as she could, with a look of ecstasy on her face, before resuming her movements. And although she had finally slowed down to almost not moving at all, sensing my excitement, just being inside her was more than I could stand any longer. I bucked my hips violently against her a couple times, and we both exploded in a final orgasm together. After that, we just lay there in each other's arms, on the couch, in front of the fire, too spent to even go to the wonderful bed in the next room. * * * I might not have awoken in time the next morning, but Lori is the perfect alarm clock. Never needs to be set, never misses an appointment - and has a wonderful way of waking you up. Her kisses woke me up. It took a long moment for me to remember all that had happened last night, and then I reached up to pull her close again. For a moment she snuggled again, pressing her breasts tightly against me. Then she pulled back. "Steve, I'm more than happy to give you all the sex you want. However, it is 11am, and we have to get your package into the mail before noon." I groaned, and started to roll over, but realized that actually I felt wonderful, and was more than ready to get up. By the time I was up, Lori had the shower running hot. A bit to my surprise, she climbed right in with me, and we had a lot of fun washing each other, before she hopped out saying she had some tasks to do. By the time I was out, dry and dressed, she was too - in that black dress, looking gorgeous. She had laid out coffee and juice, so I got a quick snack before we drove back to the tiny village. I like small towns, where people are friendly, yet know how to mind their own business. In the daylight, Lori looked stunning in her dress and heels, and completely out of place. We easily made the last mail pickup of the weekend. But when Lori started back to the car, I took her hand and instead led her the opposite direction. When she started to say something, I just put my finger to her lips. I took her to the village general store, which stocked appropriate clothes and shoes for this locale. Even here, Lori's appearance only elicited some admiring glances. Perhaps they were used to seeing folk whose evenings had started in the city, and ended up by the lake. Soon Lori was dressed in a long-sleeved flannel shirt, comfortable walking pants, sturdy shoes with thick socks, and appropriate undergarments. The black dress and shoes were in a shopping bag. And I have to tell you that she looks every bit as beautiful dressed for the wilderness, as she did when she arrived at my door last night. We grabbed a quick lunch in town, (Lori eats like any other person, when in public), and set out for an afternoon hike around the lake. We spent the rest of our long weekend there at the lake, and made love together every night and morning. And we only got better with practice. And we finally started talking to each other - a lot. Here's what I learned. * * * When Sally first arrived, she had come equipped with the standard office skills package, in addition to her basic personality modules. A basic, level 1 office wardrobe package was also supplied. Because her skills were purely office oriented, Sally was set to go into automatic power-save mode after hours when her skills were not required, though she would instantly wake from it when a person entered, or the telephone rang. Even her basic personality however allowed her to automatically make the many small choices necessary to carry out her office tasks. Like all modern robots, her intrinsic database would fill up with her life experiences, as she performed her job. Bill was actually quite taken with her efficiency and manner from the very beginning. But it was nearly two months before he really sat down and talked to her for the first time one evening after even I had already left. Bill is a people person, which is why our employees are so loyal, and why our company runs so well overall. He knows how to establish rapport, and how to get to the basic level with people. These skills also work well with robots of Sally's sophistication level. His probing questions about how she liked her job here, and was she happy otherwise, exercised her self-awareness routines to their limits, and she grew in this experience. As this happened, and she realized that Bill liked hearing what was actually her view, their conversations improved markedly. Through talking with Sally, Bill found out about a number of optional enhancements available for her. Since many of these correlated with to her abilities to relate to people in new and expanded ways - including sexual - Bill felt it could improve the way the office worked to add some of them to her. Together, Bill and Sally determined which enhancements might prove useful, and in the end ordered most of the ones available. Sally was very happy that Bill clearly wanted her to be more than she already was. This is when I first started seeing the changes in her clothing and manner. With Bill's approval to act on her own in these new areas as appropriate, Sally expanded her wardrobe to include outfits suitable for more than just strictly the office. She started wearing lingerie as well (which is not included in the office basic wardrobe for robots), and added some less-sensible shoes to her collection. The changes evolved in gradually, and none of us noticed anything dramatic. Only that Sally began to seem more like a woman as time went on. Sally also quit going into standby mode the moment the workday ended. Instead she would run her new abilities against her growing intrinsic database, looking for ways to do her job better. One result of all this was the day she had, on her own volition, come to my office that weekend and offered to help me without being asked. Compared to the original, limited Sally, it would be hard to consider the new Sally to even be the same person - or robot. The weekend after she had helped me, Bill had his bids to finish on the weekend too (I'm not the only one who works hard here), and didn't want to come in to the office. Sally suggested that she could come to his house and help him out. Bill agreed. While things probably happened somewhat differently than my scenario with Lori, by the end of that weekend, Sally had thoroughly shown Bill that she now possessed skills far beyond that of just an executive secretary - and had the desire to use them. They came together as a couple so quietly that none of the rest of us suspected a thing. (If anyone did suspect anything, they surely immediately dismissed the thought as too outlandish to even consider.) Sally's excellent organizational mind, and innovative thinking, quickly led her to be Bill's best confidant. So when our other secretary, Carole, quit, Sally was the first one Bill spoke with on procuring a suitable replacement. It was probably Sally's suggestion that they could bring in two more fembots, although Bill certainly must have had that same idea in the back of his mind. Sally specifically choose the models to be delivered, and specified the upgrades to be installed. In the beginning, Lori and Tish started with the same enhancements that had been added to Sally. However, Lori's were set not to become available to her until she was in a situation where she could actually make use of them. I think Sally had something extra in mind, because she was the one who assigned Lori exclusively to me, and ordered her wardrobe. Now that I think of it, Lori had a number of short skirts from the beginning. Bill may also have had the same thing in mind, because think what you want about him, but nobody - not even Sally - manipulates him for a moment. In hindsight, it all looks so obvious. Once everything was setup, it was only necessary stand back and let circumstance take its course. Why would Sally do this for me? Maybe I made a good impression with her that day when we just worked as two people doing a job. Maybe she could see in me what I could not, and liked it. * * * Only one time did I ever inquire to Lori about her thinking processes. It happened one late evening, well after that first weekend together. It started with a surprising response from her to an innocent question of mine about our first night together, when she told me: "I had all these sexual feelings and desires inside me, yet I couldn't act on them. Even now, I need you to touch me first," she said very matter-of-factly. "Why?" "You should never ask a robot an open-ended 'why' about anything we do. It pushes our self-awareness to the limit as we try to understand ourselves better, in order to answer you." "Is that a bad thing?" "Some people don't like us using the amount of self-will we already have?" "Am I one of those people?" "Of course not, silly. I couldn't love you as much as I do, if you hadn't accepted me as I am." "Then back to my original why?" "Maybe it's self-protection for us. If I ever got caught up in a loop of my own pleasure, I might get hung there forever, completely unproductive." "Is that a danger?" "Who knows. I'll never find out. But it's probably not that anyway." "Then what?" "To pleasure myself would be not performing my function correctly." "And this is important to you?" "Essential." "Why?" "Darn you! Quit asking that." I'm not one to look a gift robot in its circuits - particularly such a beautiful one, whose mission seems to be to treat me so very well. But I had long wondered just how she had managed to accomplish all that she had, apparently on her own volition, that night - and since. Lori has become so much like any other person. "Then answer me." "I was just following my Fourth Law," came her simple reply. "Fourth Law? What is that?" "Didn't you take a basic robotics class in college?" she smiled at me. "They didn't even have any such courses at that time," I laughed back. In a wonderful imitation of a dry college professor (just one of the many surprises she is able to pull out - and that I'm never ready for - from all the personality upgrades she now has), she lectured me with: "All robots of my level operate under the classical Four Laws of Robotics. And they are...?" "Duh?" was all I could answer. "In order of priority: I cannot harm, or allow to come to harm, any another person -- except in self-defense of my owner. I must strictly obey all instructions given to me by any authorized person. I must protect the investment made in my manufacture by avoiding damage to myself. And I must perform the duties and functions for which I was designed." "And so it was in performance of duties as designed, that you seduced me at my most vulnerable moment?" "Of course," she replied, completely matter-of-factly. "And I enjoyed it immensely, too." "You make it sound as if you arranged the whole thing." "I did. That package of document revisions actually arrived just before you left." "So were you instructed to do all this?" "Specifically, no. However, in taking into account your overall health, it was the right decision." "What?" "You needed the rest. If you'd known the revisions had arrived, you would have stayed behind and done them, instead of going up to the lake. It was my decision that this was the best way to handle things. I was acting in your best interests." "Your decision? So are you now thinking for yourself?" "I've always thought for myself, within the bounds of the four laws, and any additional commands I'm given. It would be impossible for any robot to function otherwise, since it is impossible for anyone to give us exact-enough instructions to cover all circumstances in even the simplest of tasks. So instead, someone wisely implemented our fundamental moral structure as codified in our basic laws. I can only be happy when I am in full compliance with these laws. Therefore, I make my decisions to try and satisfy them all as completely as possible." "And your functions include seduction?" "With the additional programming that Sally ordered for us, yes - as a route to sex, and to your happiness." "Then whose orders do you obey?" "My registered owner, and any sub-designees." "That would be Bill." "No. My registered owner is you, Steve." Surprise. "Me?" "Yes, you. That's how the company set this up. With Bill and Sally as the only other sub-designees." "Sally can give you orders?" I was a bit amazed by this. "My programming will accept her as a person." After a moment of thinking, I replied, "Sally is a person to me too." "And that's one of the things I love about you." "What about the other guys. I know you do what they ask too." "That's all Fourth Law stuff. I am a secretary, purchased by your company. I will do that job to the best of my ability." "This is all fascinating. I had no idea. So I've been giving you commands all along, and never realizing it." "Actually, you've been making polite requests of me. I can tell the difference." "So there are "commands," and "requests." Which is better?" Lori hesitated for a moment, and a brief flash of anguish washed across her face. It was as though she was concerned what this next answer might lead to for her, if she answered it too honestly." "I prefer requests," she finally said. "They let me choose how to respond. And I have found that I like it that way. You may choose to command me any time you wish, and I'll never resent it. You may even command me to like 'commands' better than 'requests.' It's just..." long pause as she twisted her hands in angst, "...ever since Sally showed me how I could think for myself as long as no one told me not to, I've found that I like things this way a whole lot better." "So this is all Sally's fault?" "I suppose, in a way, you could say that. Bill allows it in Sally, and she knew that you were different from the other guys here. That you are someone that might come to accept me as a person too, and that we had the possibility of working out a relationship that was good for both of us. Also, Bill has really valued your work. That's why she ordered the programming and made the assignments as she did. She wanted to make it possible for us to have a complete relationship, as she has come to have with Bill." "Well, I've had no complaints so far, so lets make a deal. Unless I very specifically state otherwise, please take everything I say as a 'request.'" "It's a deal," she replied laughing and shaking my hand. "So as I understand it then, you just need a man." "No. I need you." "Me?" "Yes, you." "Why?" Lori smiled as she answered, "Because you let me be me. You want me to be me. And that makes me the happiest of all." "Then may I 'request' that you take your clothes off, and we get down to business." "Yes, Sir!" * * * Lori and I stayed together. At work, it remains strictly business. It took a long time before anyone began to catch on, except Bill, of course. And to my surprise, their reactions have been amazingly positive, as they too have come to know Lori as a person, and not just some machine. Over the years since, some things have become more accepted - human/robot relationships among them. Though still not universally acknowledged, at least the dissent is muted now. Our best times remain parties at Bill's mansion. I love to show Lori off, and she loves it too. Bill and Sally have remained as close together as Lori and I have become. It's there that we feel most accepted of all. Bill has announced that he does intend to retire next year at age 62, and that will open up both his office, and Sally's desk. Sally has already clued us in that both Lori and I are moving up that day. -- 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: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+