Sammy's Party

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So, for a while now, I have read the story "Generations" ( http://www.fembotwiki.com/index.php?title=Generations ) and thought of it as one of my favorites. It isn't long nor is it complicated, but it has a lot of things in it that I love. An interplay between fembots and examining the potential relation between them. However, as much as I liked it, I felt that there was some untapped potential in it, and had ideas to continue on it.

Finally, I brought these up to BA, asking him for permission to write a "sequel" story. He not only agreed, but was willing to give me some ideas in that regard. It has been awesome working with him on it, and I am especially thankful for giving me the motivation to write for the board again after almost two years of hiatus.

Thus, big thanks, BA. Not only are you an inspiration to me, but you are an awesome writer and an awesome person.

Ultimately, I hope you enjoy the story, and feel that if nothing else, it at least lives up to the work of one of the best writers here!


Sammy's Party


Based on the story “Generations” by BA


Sammy Deeley lay back on the expensive sheets of a plush queen-sized bed, letting out the heavy, panting sighs of one deep in the afterglow of intense lovemaking. Her slim, buxom body lay mostly still, sprawled out on the sheets, one hand resting on her flat abdomen, head turned away from the light peeking in from between the blinds. The rays of the late afternoon sun played against her soft face, highlighting the strawberry color of her hair, tied back into a ponytail. Her clothes lay on the floor, as well as that of her partner's, the articles scattered about where they were tossed as they came in, kissing and fondling all the way to the bed itself. With her body as bare as it was however, an observer might have suspected that there was something different about Sammy. Her skin was perfect below her neck and past her arms. Even there, it had only the slightest of blemishes. Most striking however, and the surest indicator of what she really was, was a rectangular outline just below the swell of her chest. Even a layperson would spy such a thing and understand immediately that Sammy was not what she appeared to be.

The android looked for all the world to be taking a rest after the intensity of her early afternoon, in reality following new programming designed for the complete satisfaction of her partner. It was not enough merely to make love. The writer of the program wanted to be sure that every time someone made love to an android with this programming installed, every instance would be a conquest, their artificial partner simulating total and complete satisfaction. Being a simulation, Sammy could have turned it off at any time. However, Sammy's state-of-the-art Artificial Intelligence did include a sense of desire, a sense of want. And the ever-curious nature of her heuristic AI made her crave and revel in new experiences. Sammy was by no means a 'virgin', it wasn't the first time that she had laid in bed with another. But she had never done it for so long, it had never felt so good as it had in the past few hours.

As she lay there, her partner, who had been laying next to her, rolled over to slip next to Sammy. Her slender hand slipped over Sammy's chest, running a hand under the curve of a breast. The woman looked at least two decades older than Sammy's projected late teens/early twenties, but a casual glance at her would leave no doubt that she was the same sort of woman that Sammy was. In spite of her freckled face, most of her finer details simply ended below her neck. Wheras Sammy's control panel was the only immediately obvious sign of her artificiality, the other woman's body had several exposed panels and the seam lines indicating where her joints connected to her body. All of these were typically covered a conservative clothing style befitting a woman of her age and standing.

Sammy let out a soft sigh, turning her head and opening her eyes, looking into the blue eyes framed by red gold curls, the sophisticated optical sensors capable of noticing the way that the light of the evening played through the synthetic strands, her AI capable of appreciating the lovely play of light. Sammy leaned up and pressed her lips to her partner's, a hand snaking out to gently hold her side. Leaning her head back, Sammy's eyes remained locked on the other woman's as she got closer. A finger went up to press against a pair of soft lips.

“C'mon, mum. We've been making love for three hours straight. It's fun but I have to get dressed and get ready.” The word 'mum' might have been jarring for anyone to hear, but for Sammy it was just that, a word. A title placed in her synthetic mind for the machine that was known to most everyone as Mrs Deeley. Mrs Deeley was a model generation older than Sammy. Also unlike Sammy, who was custom-built and programmed, Mrs Deeley was a commercially available model with a modified AI. This meant that while Mrs Deeley was a functional unit, the processor framework was not really up to operating her Class 5 AI, with constant crashes at emotional highs. Sammy had a full understanding of her 'mother's' programming, with the intention that the newer unit would perform basic maintenance on the older machine, mostly correcting programming faults and the occasional hardware issue. However, whoever had decided to do this had not accounted for Sammy's curiosity and simulated hormonal drives. It was not the first time that they had sex, with both women ultimately viewing each other as simply two machines engaging in activities that mutually activated their positive-feedback routines.

However, this latest round of reprogramming had left Mrs. Deeley more crash-prone than ever. The three hours that Sammy had stated were more like 1.5 hours ultimately. Sammy had spent the rest of the time together running system diagnostics on her mother's AI and body, initiating tests after almost every body-shaking orgasm resulted in either severe system latency and in one instance a crash. Sammy did have something she needed to do, but she was also partly worried that she'd have to explain to her father why his wife was going to be spending the rest of the week in a customer service center, which she would probably be sent to right after. She wouldn't resist a reprogramming, but it did not mean that she wasn't annoyed by the prospect of losing all of the mods she received after her first annual servicing.

Sammy's words did nothing to dissuade her mother. She simply leaned in closer, locking her lips with Sammy's, who immediately closed her eyes and groaned softly. The hand at Sammy's double-D breast slipped down over Sammy's at her abdomen, before slipping her hand down between Sammy's thighs. “What could you possibly need-need to do? The semester's over, your father is on vacation, what could you need to do that requires you to get your clothes back on and out of this bed?” Mrs. Deeley's words were both inquisitive and seductive, programming making her both an inquisitive parent and a lover without inhibitions clashing together in a way that Sammy had to admit to herself was strangely seductive, as was the finger carefully probing her upgraded sex.

Sammy had to resist every aspect of her programming telling her that she should keep going. Her sexual sensitivity higher than ever, her need for sex growing by leaps and bounds, Sammy was keenly aware of the fact that her programming meant that she would not have been able to resist if her lover was a human, which only turned her on more. Sammy was not sure if it was something she had been programmed for, or if her heuristic systems had developed a link between reminders and realization of her artificial nature and sexual arousal. She rolled her hips to the sensation of the fingers against her folds, letting out a little groan as she raised her hand and pushed it up against her mother's chest. Her mother responded with a groan. “Oh, Sammy. You naughty girl. I'm going to--”

“Mum!” Sammy gave her mother a light shove, her chest rising and falling in a slow panting. She sat up and watched her mother's confused reaction, head cocked slightly to one side, almost like a quizical bird. Sammy always found it both mildly annoying and equally arousing that her mother's human behavioral emulation always seemed to get buggy after their lovemaking sessions.

“Seriously, I can't. I...Have some things going on tonight. A..er...study group.” Sammy smiled sheepishly. She could lie, but around her parents she was a horrible liar, as designed. Mrs. Deeley, likewise, was able to pick up on her daughter's lying. A complex set of protocols for both fembots to make the mother-daughter relationship as believable as possible. When they weren't naked in a simulated afterglow, of course.

“A study group? It is the end of the semester, what could you possibly...” Sammy's 'mother' sat up, Sammy following afterward. She knew that when her mother radically shifted position like that, it meant that she was shifting from lover to parent. It wasn't exactly the first time that this had happened. “Sammy Deeley, what are you not telling me?” Mrs. Deeley's tone went from seductive to harsh and questioning on a dime, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinized her daughter's intentions from the nervous smile on her face.

“Mum, I...I'm just having a few friends over. You know, for a get-together, and--” Sammy winced as her mother cut her off with angry, parental shouts.

“Sammy! You know that your father forbid you to have any 'get-togethers' while he's out! Specifically forbid it, no less! The last time you had such a get-together, we had to pay for several outrageous expenses on your part. No, if your father forbids it, then I forbid it.”

“Mum, mother, I--”

“Don't you start with me, Sammy! I'm going to call your father and we will see what he will see what will have to say-say about this!” Mrs. Deeley moved for the side of the bed, towards where she kept her tablet phone device. Sammy followed, quickly crawling across the bed and snatching her mother by the waist. “Sammy, what are you do-do-do-doing—oh, Sammy~ I—release me this—I love it when tou-tou-touch myyyyy—”

Sammy pulled one hand away from her mother's breast to put it up against the hidden depression behind her ear. Mrs. Deeley's voice trailed off as her power toggle switch was hit. Her expression faded into a more neutral look as she sat on the edge of the bed, head sinking towards her chest.

“Sorry, mum. If I had the time, I'd just reprogram you.” Sammy didn't even question why she was taking the illogical action of talking out loud to her deactivated mother, and instead got off the bed and stood at the edge of it. Seeing her mother in this deactivated state made her let out a little shuddering sigh. She had sexual highs from maintaining her mother—now that she thought of it, perhaps the sexual attraction towards all things robotic was an incentive to make her more willing to maintain her? But now her reaction seemed more intense, more sensitive to these sensations and feelings. She tried to metaphorically push it to the back of her mind, though every time she attempted to remove its priority status, she found it instead was reasserting itself. She ultimately ascribed it to the new suite of sexual interface programming. Another issue that kept cropping up was that she found any attempt to masturbate was also denied. That was to avoid a machine like Sammy getting stuck in a constant loop of self-pleasuring. There was only one way she was going to get off.

With the party in less than half an hour and not everything prepared for it, Sammy tried to push it into the back of her mind. She was slipping her crop-top on, pulling the fabric tight against her larger chest (and idly assigning getting clothes that better fit as a minor priority in her CPU), when she realized that she couldn't just leave her mother sitting there idly. Reaching down, Sammy slipped her hands under Mrs. Deeley's arms and lifted her up onto her feet. From there came the awkward drag towards the large wardrobe closet...


Despite some hiccups, the party was so far a huge success. Sammy knew she should have felt more excited, but her thoughts kept drifting. It was mostly Sammy's classmates that were joining the party, though they had brought a few of their friends along. Much like Sammy herself, most of the party goers were the children both organic and synthetic of some of the wealthiest men and women in the nation. To that end, many of them were very attractive, having all the benefits of cosmetic surgery, expensive personal fitness programs and high-spec reasoning programming. There were over forty people here, and more were coming in. Sammy actually had to pay one of her male friends (with a couple hundred credits and a peek at her upgraded chest) to act as a bouncer, simply because so many people were attempting to attend.

They were all greatly enjoying themselves, bringing all manner of alcoholic drinks, enjoying themselves at the entertainment consoles, dancing to the music that the manor's old walls carried so well, swimming in the huge pool out back, or just content to stand around and mingle. Several were openly making out, and a few had snuck off to more private areas for something a bit more intimate than a little tongue-twisting.

Again, Sammy knew that she should have felt more excited by the whole thing. It was sure to be a night everyone would talk about back on campus, not to mention make the pretty synthetic redhead even more popular now than she had been prior. Social recognition, given her father's important position, was something that her father had her specifically programmed for, though it was intended to make her more academically successful and be the kind of girl that made her father proud at high-society events, such as his annual charity get-together, a far calmer affair than the messy, raucous affair that Sammy now presided over, with her new pair of almost-E-cups.

But the sensations of pleasure kept looping, 'stuck' in her synthetic mind at a specific level, programming that just refused to leave her processors, assigned priority status. The touch of her mother's soft fingers against her sex had her now standing in place, drink-cup in hand, a tinge of pink on her cheeks as the thought looped endlessly in her mind. She eyed all of the pretty boys and girls, wondering which one she was going to ask first, when suddenly she found the decision being made for her.

Franklin Bishop was the son of Edward Bishop the Second, which as the name indicated, was rather old-school royalty from one of the Eruopean states. Edward's father had added to the already considerable family fortune by investing in robotics right at the time of their mass-introduction to society in the current form, which meant that the Bishops were some of the wealthiest people on the continent. Edward had wanted to make sure his son Franklin was entitled to whatever he pleased, making him rather spoiled. Despite this, his good genetics and fat wallet meant that he could have almost any woman he pleased. So, it was perhaps why in Sammy's pleasure-oriented social-climbing AI she found the rather sudden and open cupping of her new breasts to be rather welcome. Her gasp was a soft one, arms shooting at her sides as she stiffened up, adopting a typical 'standing at attention' pose, one that she had adopted simply by programmed default.


“Sammy, I like the new tits,” Franklin said openly, leaning himself in to press his body against her back, a body that Sammy had always desired, even before her new programming began asserting itself. He was fit, but not too muscular, his auburn hair kept short, height at an even six-foot. Sammy could feel the expensive fabrics pressing against her synthetic skin, sensors calibrated well enough to register the expensive silks. The cupping went into a grope before Sammy could adequately respond, a little groan escaping Sammy's lovely lips.

“I have to say, I'm liking the new you. With that flat chest of yours and the way you carried yourself, I was sure your father programmed you to be a dyke.” Sammy, at some point prior to all of this, might have been offended by that comment. Franklin looked good, but his attitude was terrible. Nevertheless, his popularity and his social status meant that few tried to correct him, even professors. There were quite a few wings of the college that bore the name 'Bishop'. His fingers slipped into her top, slightly cool to the touch, taking handfuls of those synthetic breasts and squeezing firmly, before becoming outright groping. If anyone was looking, they weren't saying anything.

“Hmmmh...Nnnnhh...” Sammy groaned softly, moaned a little. This got a chuckle out of Franklin. He leaned in to whisper against her faux ear, her audio sensors picking up on his low, heavy lustful breaths. “Is that all you are programmed to do now, moan like a slut? I like it.”

“N-No, I...I just...you caught me at--” The shush that Franklin had given Sammy was enough to stop her speaking immediately. He leaned his body into her, planting soft and slow kisses down her neck, though it was hardly romance that was on his mind. “If you want me, Sammy, and you'd be malfunctioning not to, then you and I are going to head upstairs.”

Sammy nodded, and soon she found herself being let go. Sammy at some point prior to her new programming would have likely told Franklin where he could have put that dick he seemed so intent on using tonight. But that was, of course, prior to her new programming. Between the desire welling up inside of her since her mother's attempt at getting her back into bed almost three hours ago, the social networking programs and her own physical desires amplified by at least triple an order of magnitude, Sammy practically walked up those steps on autopilot. It was not her room she went into, but that of her 'parents'. Franklin followed behind.

The door shut, and he was on her. Franklin once again slipped up behind Sammy, pulling her shirt up and over her breasts before seizing them in his hands. They were firm, sensitive, the realistic nipples hardened to points so fine they felt like they could have cut diamonds. They lacked some of the human give that a real woman would have possessed, but Franklin didn't care. If anything, it turned him on. Growing up around these sexy, slim androids, Franklin had desired them since he was young. He had his own robotic girlfriend, one that was languishing in some repair center getting put back together after his last round of intense fucking. She was on the very back of his mind when his hand pushed down into the front of Sammy's expensive, tight jeans, fingers pushing over the soft skin of her sex, running between curls of synthetic fiber meant to look trimmed.


Sammy was squirming in his arms, moaning and groaning, not caring who might have heard as she gave in to hedonistic desires programmed into her by a lovely synthetic assistant at the tech center, who beyond logging the new programming did as Sammy paid her to do and nothing else. Thoughts of her, Mrs. Deeley and several of the party guests only heightened her arousal. The train of thought that had her thinking about all those lovely fellow machines was, however, abruptly derailed when she felt him roughly work her pants down her legs. No panties, she hadn't had the time, which made Franklin chuckle darkly.

Sammy obediently raised her arms as the skimpy crop-top went flying off of her body. Franklin's hands were soon going somewhere else. Sammy, naked save her expensive sneakers, turned to face Franklin as he pulled his own shirt off, the expensive custom-fit genuine silk casually tossed to a corner of the room. He unbuckled his pants, pushing them down with a swift motion, kicking them back against the door. The sound of it hitting the wooden door made him think of it, and he swiftly locked it. Last thing he needed was to have some drunken idiot come in and kill his own buzz. He turned to face the equally naked android, having no shame in standing nude and erect, Sammy's eyes fixed on the later as Franklin grinned. Good genetics, it seemed extended not just to his face and body.

“Suck my cock, Sammy.” The order was direct, showing no seduction here. He knew she was all his, and had no compunction about telling a robot what to do. Sammy, to her credit, hesitated for just a second before she got down on her knees, put her hands to his thighs and gave that cock a teasing lick. But Franklin was not in the mood for teasing. He reached down, grasped her head, and pushed his cock between her lips. Sammy's eyes widened as the tip touched the back of her throat, but she did nothing more to fight it. Even if she wanted to, which she didn't, she couldn't. Her programming came with several safeguards to prevent human injury, which could have resulted if she did anything other than suck him off. It seemed a touch grim, but Sammy was not only willing—if not for any other reason than her new programming, though a touch of the old heuristic code was driving her onwards as well—but the awareness of the fact was moistening her already slick sex. It didn't take her long to start bobbing her head back and forth.

Sammy initiated oral sex for over three minutes, Franklin's hand grasping the back of her head the whole while, occasionally running his fingers through her synthetic hair. Before too long, however, he yanked her head back. The abrupt termination of the oral sex caused her eyes to widen, blinking erratically as her processing systems attempted to backpedal for the sudden, unexpected shift in activity. She was swift to recover, though, which was fortunate. She was roughly pulled up to her feet, with even her high-end processor suite caught off guard as she was pushed onto the bed.

Sammy's eyes widened as she felt him push inside of her. Between the artificial lubricants and her artificial saliva, Franklin found that even as tight as Sammy was, she was penetrated easily enough. She practically howled out in pleasure, as Franklin grabbed her thighs. He started thrusting, exerting enough force to cause her breasts to bounce with each push. Sammy's sporty legs were spread wide, a sneaker flying onto the bed as her toes underneath the socks curled inwards. Her eyes were wide open as she registered sensations made all the more intense by the new sensor sensitivity of her erogenous zones, the newly intense focus on her once mildly active sexuality, and dozens of other programs and the interaction of said programs not only drove her on for more positive feedback, but made her a moaning, groaning, howling lover.

Sammy was pounded relentlessly for over five minutes, before Franklin came. She let out a deep, hot groan as he came inside of her, eyes wide, the optical sensors behind them shifting in and out of focus as her lips were fixed in silent orgasm. With a twitch of her head, she suddenly let out a little squeak, before coming as well. A bit of ego-boosting programming had meant that her own orgasm was held off until he had come as well. All of it was making Sammy keenly aware of the fact that she was a machine.

However, rather than pull out of her and call it a night, Franklin, who appeared to look barely winded by all of this, let go of Sammy's thighs and reached for her chest. Sammy was at first prepared for another round of intense groping, but found her eyes widening as she realized he was going not for her breasts, but for the control panel whose outline was displayed rather prominently on her chest.

“What? Hey, you can't just—control panel open.” Sammy's eyes blinked twice, unable to do anything more than just watch as he did so, for the same reasons she could not hypothetically pull away from the prior session of oral sex. Sammy's eyes widened as awareness returned to her, while Franklin's fingers went over the array of buttons positioned on her chest. A whole slew of them, including a hard reset switch, a power toggle and even a mute button. Franklin, however, was more interested in the array of ports that were displayed. Franklin knew his way around a control panel, and before long was entering in a command.

Franklin remained silent, save for the heavy breathing of an orgasmic afterglow, pulling out of Sammy just as she registered a command from her control interface to freeze all motor functions. “Motor functions paused,” she said in a mindless monotone, a tone of voice that she was still keenly aware of. Her fingers twitching, eyes fixed to look at the ceiling, Sammy was none-the-less aware of her paralysis, and the realization made her arousal surge once again. She had to question the programming when it seemed to heighten every sensation, but it was exactly what she had asked for.

Franklin walked over to his casually discarded pants, pulling free from one of the pockets a small mobile device. The all-in-one system had been jailbreaked by Franklin himself. Perhaps what disappointed those who knew him was that he had the technical smarts to do very well in the company, but was ultimately too self-centered to do anything save use his talents for mischievous purposes. He chuckled as he looked it over, looking to Sammy as she let out a soft moan. Franklin walked over, pulling a wire out from the bottom of the device and hard-linking it to Sammy's control panel.

“Initiating System Sync with Unknown Device...Device synced. Error: device not authorized. System is locked out until--” Sammy's words were cut off as Franklin let out an annoyed grunt. “Fuck...Hmm. Let's see here...Maybe...” She paused a moment, and then smirked. “Sammy, you slut. This is turning you on, isn't it?” Sammy was letting out soft moans and groans, but otherwise didn't respond. Programming clashed. She found this at once arousing, but security programs were operating now to make her protest and resist.

“Listen...hmmh...My father is going to flay you in court for this, you know that? He's going to sue you personally for...for property damage!” It wasn't that Sammy was unaware of what the charges levied against Franklin, she just hesitated to say 'property'. Not because she didn't like it, but because she did, not wanting to moan out again as a sensation of pleasure came from the association. Her processors were getting screwed up. The pleasure programming made her want to shout out to him to hack her systems and override her, yet her security programs would have sent her to the phone to call the authorities for what he was trying now.


Franklin rifled through her pants, finding nothing in her pockets of any use, he tossed the pants aside as he then looked about the room. “Bullshit, Sammy,” was his curt response, letting out a little sigh as his frustration began to mount. “I bet there's something in this room that we could use to get you to cooperate a bit more.” Franklin walked about the room, eventually heading over to the wardrobe.

“Wait, don't open that, there's nothing...” Sammy trailed off as Franklin opened the door.

“Oh, hello...” The well-built young man walked into the closet, and came out pulling out the deactivated Mrs. Deeley. “Well, you I had pegged for a robot, Sammy. But this is a surprise...” Mrs. Deeley stood inert, head lowered, chin against her chest. Franklin tilted her head up, eyes still open, expression neutral, before allowing it to lower again. “Is this your mum? Hah, a whole family of robotic sluts...” He rather openly reached up, groping a breast with one hand, feeling the smoother, more plastic-y materials that made up that less impressive, but still lovely chest. “She's even got freckles, how cute...”

Sammy watched with both excitement and nervousness, the two emotions conflicting rather than mixing, as Franklin reached up and pulled open an identical panel on her chest. With her power off however, there was very little she could be used for. Franklin hit her hard-reset toggle, and Mrs. Deeley suddenly straightened up, eyes wide as if experiencing some great surprise.

“Hitachi Robotics C2R Pleasure Unit Model Registration KR142-C. Loading Personalty Emulation Grace 4.1.2. Identification Deeley, Nina. Loading OS. Reviewing log...Log clear. Initializing personality emulation...Sammy!” All but the last word was spoken in a monotone, Franklin having hard-connected to her systems in the same way he had attempted to with Sammy. Suddenly, her expression faded again. “Syncing with device...complete. Unrecognized device registered. Logging as guest software.”

Sammy could only feel her eyes roll as the admonishment began in earnest from her mother. “Sammy! Look at you! Spread out like that on your father's bed! I—alert software intrusion attempt detected—am shocked at your behavior young woman!” Mrs. Deeley was operating a less complex AI on even less optimized hardware, it was a surprise she didn't crash immediately at the sight of Sammy, frozen on the bed, spread-legged.

“Mum, this isn't the time for you to start chewing me out! Initiate your security protocols and--”

“Laying there like that, legs spread, control panel open! Good lord, think of your reputation, our family's reputation if such behavior was known to the neighbors! If they even-even-even had a hint!” Sammy felt her already tremendous blush grow. She wasn't designed to feel flush, but if she did, she'd be feeling that way now and then some. Franklin let out a laugh. Mrs. Deeley turned her head suddenly, glaring at the young man who was swiftly defeating her comparatively pathetic systems security. It seems that someone had intentionally kept such security rather low. Franklin ascribed that to the presumed idocy of Mr. Deeley, as opposed to Sammy's burning desire.

“And you!” Mrs. Deeley brought up an accusatory finger and started wagging it, the ridiculousness of the scene—wagging her finger at the naked young man while equally naked herself—was something that he found both deeply amusing and strangely erotic. Sammy, meanwhile, was starting to experience the first personality error of the evening. She logged it, her systems attempting to de-prioritize the pleasure functions, but it was at this point almost as if they had taken a mind of their own.


“You, young man. I will see to it that you are prosecuted to the full-full-fullest extent of the law and that you-you-you-I-you will be pro-prosecute to the fullest extent of the law! And believe me when I say--” Of course, whatever she had to say was cut off immediately. Franklin had broken through her systems' security. The hacking attempt had been logged, but Franklin was quick to correct that. “Personality Emulation Disabled. Entering user into registry as system administrator. One moment please...” Sammy watched with excitement and a mild sense of mortified horror at the proceedings. Her head twitched. The simultaneous emotions were eating up a lot of her computing power, as were all the other programs she was running at the time. She let out a quiet 'er', but it seemed to go unnoticed by Franklin, who was waiting impatiently for Mrs. Deeley's systems to reboot.

Finally, after what seemed like an age to the impatient young man unused to older technologies, Mrs. Deeley rebooted fully. She looked to Franklin and smiled. “Oh, goodness. Sir~ I see someone is impatient to--” Franklin interrupted her. “Nina,” he said, speaking to her with a mock sincerity. “Please, call me Mr. Bishop.” Mrs. Deeley smiled, much to Sammy's continued mortification, and stated with a seductive tone, “whatever you say, Mr. Bishop.”

“You are right, I am impatient, Mrs. Deeley. This robot, your daughter? She won't give me access to her AI. How rude, yes?” Mrs. Deeley nodded once with a smirk. “Very rude. So I was thinking, would you mind terribly downloading her security codes, override commands, really anything at all that would let me get the proper access to the device currently synced with your systems?”

Mrs. Deeley, without skipping a beat, nodded her head. “Of course, Mr. Bishop. One moment...”

Sammy let out a shout. “Mum! You cube, activate your security programming and contact the-the-the-the--” Now anger was mixing in, as she tripped on her own words, frustration and arousal operating simultaneously. “--the security company and...” Sammy's words trailed off as Mrs. Deeley smiled, staring straight ahead, before turning her head to look over in Franklin's direction. “Complete, Mr. Bishop. You should have full access now.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Deeley...” He disconnected from her with Mrs. Deeley stating as much in a matter-of-fact montone. She then chuckled and said “Oh, please, call me Nina.”

“I'll call you...whatever I like, you stupid synthetic bitch.” Mrs. Deeley frowned, before Franklin interjected. “Smile, I'm giving you a compliment.” And Mrs. Deeley did just that, smiling softly as she watched Franklin reach out to her abdomen. Casually, Franklin peeled the synthetic material from Deeley's body and allowed the synthetic skin to hit the floor, folding in on itself as several of Mrs. Deeley's internals were revealed. A crisscross of packed wires, tightly spooled cam wires and several stacked processors were among the many mechanisms packed tightly into her body. Deeley smiled, opening her mouth before Franklin stated lowly, but harshly, “shut up.” Deeley, of course, did so.

“Now, if you would be so kind, Nina...Go stand over by that wall and pull out as much of your internals as you can get a grasp of.” Franklin could have justified this by saying he was covering his tracks, but really, it was just a power play. That, and his schoolboy sense of pride wanted to make this personal for the man he never met he knew only as Mr. Deeley. Mrs. Deeley, meanwhile, got a good grasp of her internal mechanisms, specifically a pair of wire bundles.

“Of course, Mr Bi-Bi-Bi-Bi-Biiiiiiuuuurrrrrrr---” Her words became digitized gibberish, tinny warbles and static-y nonsense. Her body swayed as blinding electrical flashes broke out all over her interior, traveling up her body as visible through the still-open control panel and the seams of her joints and panels. There was a final loud pop from the side of her head, which tilted her head to the opposite side, and an alert tone rang out. Mrs. Deeley's processors crashed completely as they overloaded.

Sammy watched through the haze of her malfunctioning state, head twitching as she watched Franklin approach. “That turned you on too, I bet...I'd gather you'd been wanting to do that to her for some time, right?” Of course, Franklin was just rubbing his victory in. A concerned knocking at the door had him suddenly shouting “piss off,” before turning to look back at Sammy, a mock smile on his face as he reached out and connected the wire to her control panel. Her head twitching, letting out little 'ers' and 'ahs' as her emotions quite literally conflicted, she suddenly stopped.

“Security lockout disengaged, override accepted. Hello, Nina Deeley...” Sammy gasped as a strange butterfly sensation hit her sense of awareness, her eyes wide as she turned her eyes turned to face him. “I. I.” She was cut off as Franklin began his work, putting her system into standby, the emotion fading from Sammy's face as her personality was edited, aspects of it completely overwritten. Before too long, however, and in much less time than it took for Mrs. Deeley's edits, Franklin's work was completed. He initiated a reboot, which was complete by the necessity of such a sweeping overwrite.

“Lexus HRD Companion Series Three model number XCS C424 rebooting. Loading OS...Reviewing logs...error, personality simulation clash detected. Intiating—safe-start mode overwritten. Unit may suffer from reduced performance if errors are not corrected. Loading device drivers...Loading emulation Stephanie 3.1. Initializing memory cache: S. Deeley...” She blinked several times, and then turned her eyes up to look at Franklin.

“How can I serve you, Mr. Bishop?” Her voice was uncharacteristically husky. Franklin smirked.


“Error. Cannot process task.”

It was almost five hours later. Five hours of near-constant lovemaking. Five hours of bed-breaking sex to attempt to satisfy the intense libido of Franklin Bishop. Now, after five hours, a combination of system stresses and program bugs from the hasty edit saw Franklin sitting on the bed, body glistening with sweat, panting heavily as he tossed the mobile device he had in his hands to the bed in frustration.

Sammy lay on the bed with her face up. However, that face was not connected to her body. Almost every skin panel on her body had been removed. Thin seams covered in strips of synthetic skin were over the metal framework like a net, while her skin panels and a few of her parts lay scattered on the bed and floor. Her primary battery removed for worry of a fire, she was operating on basic systems on a secondary battery primarily for maintenance work. While Franklin was skilled with robotics and system repairs, he was not to the level of the techs that worked on Sammy's body on a regular basis. So she lay there, legs spread, face frozen mid-coitus in an expression of lust, while her pleasant voice responded to every attempted command input with the same response.

“Error. Cannot Process Task.”

Franklin idly tossed a skin panel on the now well-used bed at the mechanical framework that self-identified as Sammy Deeley, too frustrated and exhausted to really be aroused, as he often was when working on such intricate systems. Franklin did not like failure, but he was simply content to get up and pick his clothing up. Mr. Deeley was not scheduled back for another few hours at least, and Franklin had to admit that some part of him found that amusing. Oh, if only he were here to see the look on his face when he got in and saw his dismantled daughter on the bed, his wife overloaded in a corner. Franklin saw the property damage as little more than a devious little bit of fun. After all, Sammy was enjoying herself, right up until her AI crashed so hard. Her words stuttering and trailing off, spouting nonsense...

Franklin pulled his pants up and slipped on his shirt, then his shoes and socks. Casually walking out to the door, he saw the mess that the party goers had left, all of them gone. He too made his exit, as he left Mr. Deeley to pick up the pieces.


“I see.”

Mr Bishop sat back, hands folded on his lap, as he looked over the security footage from the week prior. Mr Deeley sat back as well, lowering the remote. Both men were around the same age, in their mid-fifties, Mr. Bishop smartly dressed and Mr. Deeley wearing a more casual set of clothes, though nothing so casual as to make the heavy air of the very serious situation dissipate. In a way, Mr. Deeley was thankful that Mr. Bishop had been gone for so long, as following the discovery of both of his androids in such a state, along with his manor house in complete disarray, had the visitation been even only a few days earlier, Mr. Deeley would likely be hauled off to jail for violent criminal acts. Both men, however, understood that they were far too old for any kind of melee between them, their brawling days behind them.

“Considering the gravity of the situation regarding the damage to your property, I am grateful that you are not pressing charges.” Mr. Bishop's words were heavily accented. If Mr. Deeley bothered to guess, he'd suspect one of the Germanic regions. Of course, Mr. Deeley's thoughts were more focused on the present affair.

“And I am grateful to you that we could come to such an understanding, Mr. Bishop.” That and you are willing to foot the bill, Mr. Deeley thought to himself with some curse words applied judiciously throughout his private thoughts. “I trust you are giving the boy an adequate punishment?”

“Oh, of course. In my country, conscription into the military is compulsitory at the age of 18. As he is still a citizen, I imagine he is rather overdue for it. My nation does not regularly go to war, but I made several calls to a friend in the higher ranks. There will be no consideration of his status as he begins buut camp, no officer's rank or anything special.” His accent occasionally cropped up in ways that made the more heavy-set man seem all the more comical. Part of the reason Mr. Deeley had cooled down was that with his profuse and almost desperate apologies, Mr. Bishop was just impossible to take seriously.

“I must be honest with you, Mr. Deeley, I am beginning to see why you have a preference for programmable progeny. Speaking of which, how are they doing?”


Mr. Deeley let out a little sigh, shrugging his shoulders. “I've decided that the best course of action would be to have Nina reprocessed by the company. She'll likely be dismantled for parts or scrapped. Truth be told, I'm somewhat grateful for your boy. His...violent proclivities decided for me something I had been wrestling with for quite some time. The cost of her upkeep was starting to get rather extreme, and between the rarity of parts and the rather thorough damage to most of her important wiring and circuitry, it was simply more cost effective. Nostalgia is a difficult thing for me to get over, but I suppose if I ever feel it again, I can just purchase another Hitachi C2R and upload a similar personality package.”

“Ah,” Mr. Bishop said, the tone identical to Mr. Deeley, speaking as if they talking about a totaled old car. “And what of Sammy?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes. Sammy! Would you come here, please?”

It took a few seconds for the sound of heels clicking against the floor to echo into the room. A slim woman with a sporty figure and an impressive chest entered into Mr. Bishop's vision, her strawberry hair tied into a bun on her head, held in place with a frilly white headband that matched an almost stereotypical maid's uniform, black and white, with a high skirt and frilly white accents. She bowed her head softly.

“Hello, Mr. Deeley. Mr. Bishop. How may I serve you?”

“Oh, my.” Mr. Bishop blinked once or twice. “That outfit is--”

“The only one that the repair center had in her size. It is adequate for the role she's currently operating in. Originally, I was going to have her do this as a punishment, but without a higher personality emulation running, she performs much faster than Nina did in the home care role and hasn't crashed once. Lord knows I'm not paying for the bandits at the cleaning companies to tidy up this mess. I'm having a full AI backup stored, but ultimately I might just make this a more permanent adjustment, given that I clearly underestimated her potential for mischief. That and professional program troubleshooters pay up the nose. It'd be cheaper just to purchase a new unit.”

“Oh,” Mr. Bishop said. “I admire your frugality.”

“And just to be sure...” Mr. Deeley walked over, and with no resistance from Sammy, unbuttoned her top. A bare chest was displayed, as featureless as a doll's anatomy and just as immobile. “I've had her downgraded to a Class Four exterior chassis. Sammy, button up and go back to your duties.”

Sammy began buttoning up as she did so, smiling vacantly. “Of course, Mr. Deeley. Call me if you require any further service.”

“Of course,” Mr. Deeley said, as Sammy turned and headed back to the living room. Mr. Deeley then turned back to Mr. Bishop and said “I appreciate your civility in this manner, Mr. Bishop. Sammy's organized my pool table rather nicely in the east wing lounge, would you perhaps like to join me for a game?”

Mr. Bishop was surprised at the geniality Mr. Deeley was displaying. “I'd be delighted to, sir. I must admit, I am no...how is it said in America? Hustler, Mr. Deeley?” The two men both chuckled, passing by Sammy as she polished up the bannister of a staircase.

Fin


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