Futago no Shinami
The door of the Osaka apartment complex slowly swung open and a light tied to a motion sensor came on. It was late, on the near side of two forty-five in the morning. The Osaka skyline could be seen from a large window, a glittering skyline beyond of tall skyscrapers and the flashing beacons of broadcast antennae and cell-phone towers. The occasional neon light advertising a company or product could be seen blinking like amusement park attractions. It was all reflected off of the nearby Osaka Bay, adding another shimmering dimension cut through only by late-night mariners in trawlers or tankers. It was, in a word, beautiful.
But that was not what Tarro Namura was focused on.
He stepped through the threshold of the door holding closely on to a different kind of beauty, one wearing a strapless black dress that hugged tightly to her beautiful curves. Her hair extended down to the small of her back, a pair of long legs stretching up into that dress, disguising those supple hips that lured Taro over in the first place. Her chest pressed against his own, resting also on the line between a C and a D cup. Her skin was light, unlike the tan a lot of the girls around here seemed to desire. Her face was one of Asian beauty, the face of a geisha, seductive without overstating herself.
Their arms were looped around each other; Tarro’s were draped on those beautiful pale shoulders, the beauty around his waist. Her name was Kaori, a girl of about twenty five who had been the envy of most of the nightclub. They had impressed each other on the dance floor, something right out of Saturday Night Fever, at least if anyone watched those ancient films.
They shared a deep kiss, Taro leaning in to the beautiful woman, Kaori’s lids closing over those hazel brown orbs. Taro pushed the door to close it, and Kaori’s hands moving down to the bottom of Tarro’s white shirt. As the door shut, they shared a playful giggle, and Kaori’s hands were half way up that shirt and going over a muscular, toned chest. Taro was no small catch either. Kaori was enthralled by his build, atypical of the stock brokers and accountants who so populated Japan’s economic capital. He worked on a ship, which probably explained why he seemed in such a rush to try and get to the zipper of that dress. Either he was desperate to leave in time, or he had not seen a woman in a long time.
However, just as he was getting that far, they both practically leapt into the ceiling when Kaori heard her name shouted rather loudly. She jerked back, leaving Taro confused but also intrigued.
She was wearing a pair of pink jammies and a white sleeveless shirt, no doubt having been awoken at some point as the couple came in. But at what point, Tarro wondered. They were quiet, weren’t they? But that was not the forefront question on Tarro’s mind. The question was “Am I this lucky?”
The woman looked like Kaori’s identical twin. Even down to the subtle graces of that face. Taro had figured Kaori just had a good plastic surgeon, unconvinced that such beauty came without some sort of catch. A wicked grin came to his face as she looked at the less than happy twin. Her arms were crossed under that chest, which only seemed to announce it to Tarro. A heterosexual man traveling on a cargo ship for a few months sometimes thought more with his libido than with his head, and Taro was not allowing politeness or reality to intrude.
“Hey, you didn’t tell me you had a sister, Kaori.” Taro said a glimmer in his eye. However, that got him a light but noticeable smack to the thigh from Kaori. Taro, still grinning, at least got that message.
“For good reason, Taro” Kaori said, her seductive tone turning into one of frustration, her own arms crossing her chest as she stared at her sister.
“We have been over this, Kaori” the mysterious twin said, tapping her fingers against her arm. “I don’t want you bringing guys over to my apartment.”
“Your apartment?” Kaori was obviously getting irritated. “Emiko, I pay half the rent! I should be able to bring guys back here if I want! I’m not some tramp who takes people to hotels!”
“No, you are a tramp who brings them back here to our apartment and has sex on the sofa!” Emiko said, clearly getting angry with her sister. Taro was about to speak up, when the argument continued.
“I am not a tramp! Just because I see sexuality different than you do does not mean—“
“I don’t mind if you want to have a bit of fun, Kaori but not on my new sofa! Especially not some sailor you met on the docks!”
“I did not meet him on the docks,” Kaori said, pointing to Tarro. “I met him at Oath, that club on—“
“I know where that is!” The twin, Emiko said, about to say something again when it was her sister who interrupted.
“I am surprised you do! Considering you spend all day plugged into the office wall! I bet some of those salary workers take turns groping you while you recharge!”
Emiko’s eyes widened in shock, and she pointed a finger accusingly at Kaori. “You are such a slut, Kaori! You—“
She was almost immediately got interrupted by a rather confused Tarro. He let out a soft cough to interrupt the two, and Kaori put her hand to her forehead. She realized she just did something she spent six hours trying to avoid.
“Wait. Your sister is—“
Eriko’s eyes widened and she threw her arms up into the air. “Oh, for God’s sake, Kaori! You neglected to tell another one?! Listen, sailor. I’m not the only—“
“Eriko!” Kaori said harshly, glaring at her sister, but that did not seem to stop her.
“We both are. We are both robots. Sebei-Series Model RK—“
Taro let out a scoff immediately after that, and then just shook his head.
“You know, I knew there was something a bit too good to be true about you.” Tarro said, turning and heading out the door. Kaori’s lips parted to speak, but the door already shut by the time she could get a word out. Her face soured and she turned to look into the identical face of her “sister”.
The two of them had lived together for some time. Both owned by a wealthy businessman who passed away about a year and a half ago. Their self-awareness and the lack of relatives who wanted two used pleasure ‘bots meant that they were able to make their own way in the world, but they always seemed to get back to one another for whatever reason or another. Convenience, they both supposed, perhaps something of a bond.
Though Kaori was definitely not feeling that bond right now, eyeing the other gynoid with intent to dismantle her and throw her in trash canisters all over Osaka. Despite being a sex ‘bot, Emiko was as straight-laced as they came and it had just cost Kaori yet another night of consensual fun.
But then her face softened.
Kaori sighed and nodded, Eriko’s left eyebrow rising as Kaori walked over to her, slipping her arms around her sister’s waist. Eriko sighed softly, shaking her head.
“Kaori, you can’t seduce me. You know I am not programmed that way.” Eriko said, though she made no effort to slip away or resist her. She knew that Kaori would give up, eventually.
“Oh, sister, don’t be so crass. I’m not going to seduce you, I know that…Does not mean I couldn’t if I ever wanted to.” Kaori said, smirking proudly. Eriko rolled her eyes and sighed. Sure, she was not going to fall to her sister unit’s prideful banter, but a part of her wanted to see her try. It was entertaining. Eriko had to confess, it was not just her personal space that caused her to chase away Kaori’s date. She just loved bugging the other gynoid.
“Hmmm…Okay. Try.” Eriko lightly poked her sister’s side, a bit of a provocation but nothing serious.
Kaori smirked as she leaned up and moved to plant her lips on those of her identical unit, but the ruby glossed lips instead turned into a smirk as soon as their faces were but two or three inches apart. Kaori’s hands slipped around her sister’s neck.
“I don’t have to try sis. I just have to…”
And Eriko only realized what her sister was up to when she felt the tip of a finger land on a very familiar spot, the button just under the skin of her neck, just under her jaw on the left side. Eriko’s eyes widened and her lips dropped in protest, but nothing came of it. She shut down nearly the instant the button was pressed, her eyes flickering before losing all color.
“…Do that. Now, let’s see if I can’t make you just a bit more agreeable.”
Kaori’s hands moved to her “sister’s” shirt, grasping the bottom and pulling it up and over the swells of her chest. As was to be expected with a model designed for pleasure, she was fairly voluptuous, C cup, approaching a D, identical to Kaori’s own. She changed it regularly, capable of adjusting her cup size on the fly. It was realistically detailed, her tan nipples identical to a human’s, or as nearly so as synthetic skin could get anyway. As may be expected, she wore no bra with her bed clothes, though her personal comfort was easily adjustable. Kaori sometimes wondered if Eriko went out of her way to adopt human mannerisms and customs. It drove her batty.
But her sister’s chest was not what she was after when she removed her shirt. Kaori’s object of desire was on her back. While she stood silent and still, face expressing shock but at the same time vacant. Her leg servos locked in place to keep her from falling over. Kaori slipped around behind her sister and a shiver of anticipation shook her frame. She gently placed her hand on her sister’s back and pressed down firmly.
Eriko’s body straightened, her head no longer tilted to the side, her eyes focusing on the other end of the room. Color had returned, but it was faded. A panel, hidden between her shoulder blades, rose and exposed a programming screen. A demo of her body and structure was displayed, before the menu came up.
“SY095-B Series, name registered as Eriko Kurosawa. Edit Mode online. Programming access restricted, please enter password.”
“Password? Since when did she get a password? Crap…Let’s see here, maybe I can bypass it…”
Kaori knew that it was probably just a better idea to turn Eriko back on, but Kaori knew that if she did that, she would get an earful from her sister, and probably earn herself a reprogramming for her trouble. So, the smart idea was not so smart.
So the dumb idea was the one that was chosen. Kaori instead decided to hack into her sister’s programming. Sure, it was risky, but any damage could be repaired. Kaori’s fingers began flashing rapidly against the touch screen interface, tapping rapidly at menus and attempting to get to those pesky root files. But every time she did so, she found herself blocked in some manner. That and it was just too damned slow.
Robots, oddly, did have something that humans could consider “manners” in this little culture of theirs. Among the biggest breaches in etiquette was to intrude on the systems of another robot without permission. Less an assault, more a breach of privacy, akin to breaking into someone else’s diary. With just about every robot in the city having some form of backup somewhere, the risk of damage was just about negligible so, none of them really feared “injury” or “death from such an intrusion, at most a severe annoyance.
Kaori sighed softly, and then rolled her head gently on her neck, imitating a human stretch.
“Shit. Sorry, Eriko. But I am horny as hell and you are going to pay for wrecking my night.” The shapely gynoid then reached around and pulled a strip of skin down from the back of her neck, briefly revealing the chrome metal structure underneath and a plug, set in a recess between a pair of artificial vertebrae. Pulling the wireless interface plug out (who used cables anymore?) the Japanese-manufactured gynoid plugged into her sister’s interface panel.
Eriko jerked again, attempting to repeat the same line as before. Only, with an AI cracking into her systems, Eriko’s warnings came out in fits and bursts, words getting to half-way through the first syllable before getting cut off, the next warning taking precedent and then the next and so on. A string of nonsense as Kaori rifled through her systems, transmitting her consciousness faster than any human had ever traveled through every file she could find regarding Eriko’s personality.
Kaori stood silent, not saying a word. Her lips twitched, eyes flickering and flashing in an erratic fashion, the occasional errant processing signal shooting to her fingers or her toes, making them twitch. Her body was being manned by a skeleton crew of lower-process programs, what a human might call “subconscious functions”. Similar to breathing and blinking for a person, she did not consciously adjust her balance at a near constant rate. She could exert conscious influence over them, but most of the time it was handled automatically.
She continued to edit her sister’s programming, who likewise continued to babble on with three-fourths finished alerts to nobody in particular.
But Kaori was getting impatient. As her arousal built, generated by anticipatory thoughts of what her sister was going to do to her, she was doing the AI equivilant of half-thinking on things. Resources normally put towards making sure the editing process was going as intended were now going towards generating sexual fantasy scenarios, activating the sensor suites that generated the emulation of an aroused human female.
In simpler terms, she had in her emulated impatience forgotten to turn off a few programs and now her edits were rushed and sloppy. Taro had not been the only one thinking with their libido, and arguably it was worse for Kaori, as that libido was the entire focus of her existence. Such was a risk when one was an AI with an emotional emulation functions.
Kaori’s eyes blinked six times in rapid succession before she withdrew from her sister’s systems, her emotionless face twitching twice, before smirking as she re-established control over all of her own processes. She then slipped her arms to Eriko’s hips, squeezing them firmly. “Hi, sis…” she spoke in a seductive tone.
Eriko, however, stood there, expressionless, head sharply jerking to her right. So imperfect were the edits, so many conflicts the data, the result was visible on Eriko’s body. Her movements jerked, plainly robotic. Eriko was such a fine imitation of a person that it looked less like a robot doing what a robot did and more a human acting as a robot.
Her naked chest exposed, Eriko’s arousal functions shot through the roof, as they were supposed to, thanks to Kaori’s imperfect edits. Her body twitched and jerked, as if a marionette at the mercy of a novice puppeteer, her left shoulder rising with one movement then falling with the next, her head jerking from left to a straight position, her head turning to the left while her eyes focused on Kaori. Those brown orbs, identical to Kaori’s, flashed erratically. Her back panel open, her movements so imprecise and mechanical. Then, Eriko’s lips parted, eyebrow twitching as she attempted to speak.
“Hey-hey-hey there sissss-sis-sisteeer-er. You are look-you are look-you are look-look-look—hey there sister-ter.” The words were spoken with a digitized tone. Almost none of her programs were communicating anywhere near efficiently as they did to keep up that realistic image. She was now a sexbot, horny as hell and ready to fuck. It was like starring into a flawed mirror image.
Kaori practically jumped on her sister, squeezing her breasts firmly with fingers that did not care any longer for subtlety, for seduction. There was no need. There was only the self-gratification she got from performing her primary function. It was made only hotter now that her twin sister—in reality an identical gynoid built to a custom order—was acting like such a machine, the machine that Kaori knew she was and embraced so openly.
Kaori kissed her sister deeply, eyes closing tightly in a human reaction as she shoved her sister to the floor. Eriko continued passively, her kissing lacking any real passion. Operating at under 50% functional strength, Eriko’s body attempted to emulate her sister’s passion with the same amount of zeal, but it was like a switchboard and all the operators were speaking different languages none understood. Kaori had gone through like a bulldozer and the result was the hot, aroused and jerking body underneath her.
As Kaori began pinching and tweaking at those synthetic tits (knowing only pleasure, as pain was inefficient and neither Kaori nor their old Master enjoyed inflicting it), hardened from the arousal Kaori’s intruding AI had imposed, Eriko reached up and began attempting the same. Each movement had a clear stop and start, lacking any of that smoothness she once possessed, which Kaori was using to her advantage. By the time that Eriko’s fingers closed around those identical breasts, covered by the cloth of that racy dress, Kaori had already shoved herself away.
It was not from dissatisfaction with Eriko’s lack of articulation—if anything it was only driving her on—but was done in her own hyper-efficient movement. Eriko watched with impassive eyes, a generic smirk stuck on her face as Kaori came to a stand, pulling free a few strings and pulling free a sash or two. None of the seductiveness was there. None of the come ons, the lead-ins, the delicate dance that was known as human courtship evident in the oh-so-human synthetic facsimile, instead moving with a smooth efficiency akin to both a human in lust and a machine removing an obstacle placed before it on the way to finishing it’s programmed goal.
Programmed goal. Programmed goal. She had to get to that goal. She had to make her sister climax, to get steamy and wet, to revel in the afterglow before—if her systems permitted it—she did it again.
Kaori’s dress flew off of her body, the expensive article of clothing flying to the floor. It was irrelevant, pointless, in the way of that goal. So too was the designer lingerie thong that practically broke the sound barrier as it passed down her legs. Shoes gone in the motion, Kaori once again pounced on top of the twitching Eriko, still possessing that vacant seductive smirk, the only expression she seemed capable of.
“Oh sis-sister-ter-ter-ter—system error processor funct—not sex-sex-seeexy talk-talk-talk-talk-please alert master that my systems are comp-comp-compromised and I need-need-need—“
Her words left her lips with a noticeable latency of about two seconds, practically an epoch in terms of a seamless imitation of the words a human carried on their breath, breath which was only a simulation. Only a simulation. Only a simulation.
Kaori’s grin grew wide hearing that. She had not heard an alert to be delivered to master in…well, months! Not since the last time. The naked Kaori reached down and rendered her sister identical, save a pair of socks that clung to Eriko’s feet. The human-emulation mechanisim’s legs twitched as they were spread, revealing a pair of synthetic lips. Bare and smooth, scandalous for any human, a factory setting for these two. They were, after all, mechanical whores. Kaori did not care, practically collapsing back as she felt an overwhelming urge to scissor her naked sis—no, the naked form of her copy. A copy, save for some programming preferences. Just enough to make them different, distinct.
Irrelevant. There was only the end process, the goal to be reached. Kaori was horny enough to do anything or anyone at this point, care for the protocol humans so carefully held regarding sexuality and courtship were meaningless to both machines for different reasons. Kaori because she had a goal to complete, and Eriko because that was all she needed to do, all her garbled programming told her to do. It was the only clear message in a web of conflicting code.
“Sis-sis-sis-sis—please inform—error—process—please inform Master of my malfunction—systems security comp-comp-comp—“ Eriko babbled on, meanwhile Kaori’s only utterances were the deep, deep moans and groans that came with the rapid thrusts of her naked hips, grinding her sensor-packed synthetic folds against their identical counterpart. Identical in every possible way, just like the rest of her. A machine, underneath this synthetic skin lay processors and cables and wires and processors and wires and cables and—
Suddenly, Kaori’s eyes widened, her pupils narrowed into pindrops. Her voice spoke, but it was not her that spoke it. Instead, it was a deep-rooted code, activating only in the case of emergencies. It announced to nobody but a half-functioning copy that her own processors were risking an overload.
Kaori’s mind scrambled. Why was she having a malfunction? Why now? Her systems were all at their normal settings, nothing was being overclocked or otherwise—
Then she realized it.
The Wireless Link!
She had not removed it from Eriko’s back, holding firm despite the rough pounding her body was getting.
“Shit!” Kaori cursed, but it felt so good. So good. She needed more. She wanted more. She grasped her sister’s thighs tightly, her body turning from smooth seamless motions to a jerking motion, half-way between the outright anamatronic motions Eriko returned, lacking in any passion or true desire yet intensely erotic and the smooth and seamless movements of a human.
“Fuck!” Kaori spat, suddenly pulling herself up with one sharp jerking motion and then efficiently extending her hands out to grasp Eriko’s sides. With a sharp twist, she rolled Eriko’s upper torso around to a 180, synthetic skin stretching around the synthetic frame to keep it in one piece, their design affording the “sisters” this level of agility.
She reached out, grasping the wireless device. And with a sharp tug…
She got it half way out. Then her sexual processors initiated their climax programming. And Kaori was suddenly coming for two. Not only that, but half of that data transmitting over the open air was cut off. And it was already garbled.
Kaori’s body jerked back, legs locking together with her identical unit’s with such an extreme force that her own synthetic skin stretched tight over her frame as she bent practically backwards. It was not a moan, but a scream of pleasure that escaped her lips, her hands squeezing into tight balls as a jolt of data caused her to go through the most intense orgasm of her life, pupils as small as a pinhead and her irises flickering with synthetic light.
“Errorsystemprocesserrorcorrupteddataclearingcannotclearerrorsystemprocess—“ Kaori babbled it out at a rapid pace, her sexual systems consuming so many data resources. Resources that were also trying to do something with the junk data that flooded her processing functions. There was no recourse, her processors trying to do so much work at once it overwhelmed her.
Her systems simply crashed, her body jerking down slowly repeating the rapid-fire babbling words with a varying pitch and tone, going from highs and lows, rapidly and slowly. It was like a cheap electronic toy operating on a low battery.
As Kaori’s body relaxed into a netural position, sprawled with her legs entangled with her “sister’s”, Eriko’s head twitched left to right, blinking several times. Pleasurable sensations were no longer coming in, and Eriko’s awareness—such as it was—had been reduced to very basic functions. No imput, no output. No output, operating time was being wasted.
“Shutting down. War-warning, systems settings—“ She powered down, cut-off from telling her warning to an empty room, her eyes likewise losing the color in her irises, though her shut-down was far more orderly. Her legs unable to pull themselves free, her arms relaxed at her sides, and her head tilted back to stare emptily up at the ceiling.
The soft whine of the power screwdriver worked loose the last of eight screws that held a computer screen in place. A pair of hands worked their fingers delicately into where they could find purchase, and soon pried loose the screen from its housing. It was the second one, and the screws had been placed within a little tray to keep them from getting lost.
Kenji Hasegawa looked down at the pair of gynoids that lay face down on the soft bed that they evidently shared. Lesbian robot lovers? Sounded like something out of some trashy fetish novel. The young man, with light brown hair and a pair of studious eyes sitting behind a pair of glasses shone a light down into the forest of wires and inert mechanisms. Each one precision designed to emulate a human being perfectly.
Clearly, they were sexbots, but Kenji did not ask questions. His task as a repairman was not to ask why the machines were made or what they were doing without an owner, but to repair them as per the conditions of the warranty. They were so lifelike. Sometimes this made him wonder if he was a machine himself, before musing it was impossible. Not because of some self-affirmation of the soul or something that clichéd, but because he was not an item in the bedroom of some zaibatsu head’s daughter. He felt like he was being worked like one, seeing as how he was the only one with the qualifications to operate on such sophisticated units such as these back at the office.
He then used another pair of tools to carefully pry loose what the screens had a direct connection to. Placing them on a small tray, the two robot’s CPU processors remained connected to their power sources via a few thick black cables. A few wires had been disconnected, ready to be replaced.
Kenji looked out at the gorgeous view overlooking the bay, the light of the sun creating a deep blue sky of the pre-dawn that reflected off of the bay.
Gooddamned robots lived better than he did! The benefits of having a rich owner, though one of ‘em apparently had a job and brought in income, probably as a mobile data processor or something.
His brain operated on nearly rote, a task he had been trained to perform for eight years at a technical college and performed with all the dispassion of a surgeon. Sure, he would have loved to take these robots for themsevelves, but such activities were frowned upon, getting one’s ass kicked out of the door, and with this economy and his reputation on the line? Kenji shook his head at the brief puerile thought and got back to work.
One of the robots had apparently had a total systems failure, and the other’s systems were so scrambled it was like the data had been thrown in a blender.
“Man, must have been some…” his words were cut off as he yawned. Oh, sure. The robots could not wait, who never needed to truly sleep or grow tired, while the human who’s brain was swimming in coffee and energy drinks was told—nay, forced—to get to the scene and repair them ASAP. Even if they were gears and bolts, the rich took priority.
“Shit…I’m probably gonna’ have to do a total system restore…Well, fortunately it looks like they have a full memory backup going back approximately three days ago,” he said, speaking aloud in order to better formulate his thoughts as the data scrolled across his screen. Fortunate for them because it would mean their digital amnesia would not be too signifigant, fortunate for him because it meant all he had to do was press a few buttons and he could go home.
He looked down at the two machines, pausing in his work to examine them in detail. Completely identical, down to even the tiniest screw.
“Some rich old fucker must have had a twin fetish. Guess it could be worse.” It could, and did. Hell, this was pretty tame. Another hallmark of the rich: debauchery. Kenji shook his head. His never-ending quest for the betterment of the working class of Japan could wait. First, the system restore, then sleep.
He looked over at the gynoids on the bed…who could tell the difference? The system restore took about thirty minutes, permitting a catnap before Kenji was startled into awakening with the loudest “bing!” he had heard in recent memory. He rubbed his face, before finalizing the restore and closing his laptop. Then he carefully set the processors back into place, followed by the screens and screws. Closing their back panels, he set them to reactivate in about an hour or so. He took one look back at the pair.
“Ah, well…” He stopped to give the two machines one last admiring glance, before smirking and slapping the ass of the one on the left. Not out of some sexual desire, but because he knew that if they were online, the snobs would probably sue him for it, or get their master to. Score one for the little man.
“Nice ass...Kaori, was it? Yokohama manufacture, right? Cute socks, too.”
He chuckled, then got up and gathered up his things, before turning back to look at the offline machine he had been speaking to, turning his head-lamp off before heading out the door.
The city lights once again shone over Osaka bay, as they had since the introduction of the gas lamp centuries ago. It was a pretty sight, one that the gynoid looked forward to processing once she got up the steps. Damn those restrictions on gynoids in elevators. It was not like she would trip the weight limit.
A black skirt, white blouse, dark stockings and a pair of high-heeled black shoes—thankful that her nature allowed her no sensation of the aches and pains she heard humans experienced doing such a thing in high heels with their imperfect balance—were what she wore to work, just about every day since as far back as she could remember. Approximately 506 days, to be precise. She loved the look on the humans when she spouted off such factoids.
The gynoid smirked as she finally approached her apartment, before a sudden overwhelming urge hit her. She blinked a few times, before checking wirelessly on her sister’s status.
Systems Status: Online and at 92% functionality. Current Task: Executing pleasure functions.
“Oh…she had better be masturbating in there…”
UPDATE: Pleasure functions canceled. Reinitializing state of dress.
Her face twisted into a growl and she swung the door open once the keys had been jammed in to the lock.
When she came in, her sister stood there naked. Standing naked with her, hand being yanked on in mid-tug out of bed, was another naked body. A man, of the type that she usually went for, a brawny-looking tough-guy type, this one looked like he might have been a former JMSDF sailor or JGSDF grunt from the tattoos. Their clothes spread out all over the couch.
“Oh. Uh. Hi. This is Hideki, Hideki this is—“
“What have I told you? What have I told you about this?! Do it in a hotel, do it on the roof. Do it in a taxi. Do it on a ship. Do it on a spaceship! But how many times have I told you to never fuck your boyfriends on my couch!?”
There was a pause.
“Approximately fifteen times. Sixteen, if you count the—“
“Wait. ‘Approximately?’ What do you mean by that? That’s like, how a robot talks.”
“Oh, lord you did it again, didn’t you?”
The naked ‘bot rose her hand defensively.
“I was gonna’ tell him, I swear!”
“You were gonna’ tell me that you were a robot?”
The office worker slapped her forehead hard enough to risk damage to her dermis, her growl coming out in a loud yell.
“DAMNIT, ERIKO! That is it! You can take your clothes and get the hell out! And get your shit in the morning!” Kaori said, as she gathered up her sister’s and her latest lover’s clothing, throwing them at the two naked bodies before shoving them out the door.
The two stunned naked beings blinked at the door, and Eriko sighed, getting her clothes on. Hideki suddenly reached down, grasping her wrist.
“Hey, what are you do—“
“Tell me the truth.” Hideki said, his grip tight. “Are you really a gynoid?”
“…Yeah. What, gonna’ walk out on me then? Call me a piece of junk?”
Hideki blinked a few times, then a smirk formed on his face.
“You kiddin’? I was stressin’ I was going to have to tell you ‘bout the cybernetics!”
His smirk turned into a grin. “Meet you at my place?”
The gynoid blinked a few times, before an identical grin spread across her face.