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Powered by MediaWiki 1.40.0 • 05:47 • December 21, 2024 • Users: 355 • Files: 96,408 • Pages: 113,270 • Edits: 195,245



Features New Content Editing
Gallery 3.23.23 - New Chapter: The Small Business Chronicles: The Doctor is in - The Clinic Article Drive
Stories 3.22.23 - New Story: Maid Service Help
Index of articles 3.21.23 - New Story: Adrift Sandbox
ASFR Master List 3.13.23 - New Story: Jeff and Sydney Upload Files
Commissions 3.08.23 - New Story: Secret Longings Recent Changes
Photo Workshop 2.16.23 - New Chapter: Skyler Unused Files
Writing Workshop 2.14.23 - New Chapter: Sandra the Computer Engineer New Files




Featured Author - April

BA
Stories: 45

Story of the week:
Mrs. Allen's Two O'Clock

View past Author's of the Month.

She looked a lot like Marie; short dark hair, young pretty face, her head cocked slightly to one side, mouth a little open and pretty green eyes staring away past Mrs Allen, seeing nothing. Her nurses’ tunic was open and pushed aside to reveal smooth, pale little breasts. The skin beneath her clothes was featureless, without the fine traces of freckles, lines and tiny hairs that made her face and arms appear so lifelike. Below her ribs, filling the delta of her upper abdomen was a recess where there was no skin. Here her true nature was in no doubt.

A row of switches, several data ports and a small, winking blue display were below what appeared to be a hand sized access panel leading up into the chest of the shutdown robot therapist. A red power cable leading from a wall socket was connected to her input port and her display read CHARGING as it flashed on and off. Another, thinner lead was connected between one of the girl’s data ports and a PC trolley beside her. The large flat-screen display was headed LOADING CLIENT DATA and Mrs Allen could make out her name and address from where she stood. The nametag on the still girl’s top was Bobbi.

Mrs Allen looked at the set up without much surprise. She hadn’t booked in advance and even as wealthy a firm as this didn’t spend money on maintaining its robots to let them “dispose of their own free time” between bookings. Anyway these models were pretty, but not sophisticated. They were probably not even sufficiently sentient to notice the empty soulnessness of their mechanical lives.

Catching herself staring, Mrs Allen drew away abruptly, with her second towel in her hand. She felt a little odd at seeing Bobbi deactivated like this. Not that she liked her; Bobbi was cut from the same cloth as Marie; fake through and through. Her inane cheerful babble had annoyed Mrs Allen in the past. Still there was something about the contrast between her usual (artificial?) vivaciousness and her current stillness…..


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