The Good Samaritan

THE GOOD SAMARITAN
By Gorgo

Based on characters and situations created by Uncommonwealth.

There are male-form androids in this story

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“Welcome to Café 69…David! What happened?!”

Perking on hearing that shocked question from the scantily clad, blue-haired waiter who had been standing by at the entrance to the small coffee house/bar located in Stepford’s southern ward, the middle-aged man on the motorized wheelchair visibly winced. “Well, I was making my way down here to spend the evening with my friends when I chanced upon this lovely lady here having collapsed in an alley not far from the security gate,” he confessed, waving to the still feminine form now in his lap and leaning against him. “Girls at the gate don’t have any spare recharge ports…”

Drew nodded, a genuine smile crossing his face. “So, you came to get help from us. Here, bring her over to the back corner; we’re not busy tonight.” At that moment, his dark eyes glowed a deep crimson.

Nodding in delight that the beautiful android waiter – one of six assigned to Café 69, along with one android acting as bartender/manager – was contacting his supervisor about the issue, David guided his machine inside the main room. Sure enough, there were few people in the establishment at this time, some of whom were quick to gaze his way, welcoming smiles crossing their faces before they noticed his current “companion”. Immediately, one woman appearing to be in her mid-twenties rose from her table, walking over. “Where did you find her, David?” she asked.

“In Franklin’s Alley about two blocks from the gate,” he explained as he guided his chair to a private booth at one corner of the room. He then waited for Drew and Denise – the latter was one of the gynoid hosts of the show Life in Stepford that better explained to the wider world how things in a city with an over 80% AI population operated – to lift the poor girl off his lap before sliding his machine over to slip off the chair onto the bench. “Her barcode…” – here, David pointed to the back of his neck – “…didn’t show up in the system, so I assume she’s some sort of prototype model…”

Denise immediately scanned the other gynoid’s neck, brushing aside locks of very luscious silver-blonde hair to see what was there. “She’s a stealth Citadel unit,” the brown-haired, bespectacled presenter – of course, as a gynoid herself, Denise didn’t need glasses to correct defective eyesight – then declared. “I’ll have to access the master database to see who she was assigned to so we could determine what happened to her.” With that, she pressed her index finger into the still girl’s head, her pale blue eyes glowing for a moment. “Wow! Her batteries are nearly totally drained…”

“Have a charge cable here, Denise.”

That was Ashley, the bartender and effective “den mother” of all the AIs assigned to Café 69. Built to be as realistically effeminate as possible, he was dressed as were the others working here in a string black jockstrap that barely held back a welcoming manhood for whoever took him to bed; he had short-cropped brown hair and blue eyes, a garrison cap-like hat perched on his forehead with the bar’s logo over the left eye. As he handed a twenty-foot rolled-up thick charging cable to Denise – she immediately kneeling under the table to get at the stilled gynoid’s anal cavity to insert same – Ashley stared at David. “You look tired bringing our friend over here to have a date, Dave. You sure you can make it home?”

David reached over to grasp the bartender’s hand, giving that a reassuring squeeze. “Let me worry about that when this lovely lady is back on her feet, and we get the story out from her. Can I have my usual, please?”

“Of course…”

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David always liked the AIs who lived in Stepford.

A retired customer service representative who had to go on government disability due to various health issues, he had always been fascinated by the concept of androids and gynoids. Of course, being on disability limited any option towards buying one such unit for his own use; even second-hand, a Dyson Stepford AI still ran into the many thousands of dollars and his current place of residence – a community housing project run by the county government that once had Stepford itself as one of its communities until Dyson Industries changed things over the span of a decade – didn’t allow such units to reside there even if they could visit. Since Café 69 was the closest establishment to the boundaries of the effectively-independent city-state from his home, he became a patron of said coffee house/bar, making friends with all the staff.

Of course, David’s way of making “friends” with a septet of very sexy androids looking to be as if they should be in college was quite unique…

…especially when he discovered that the people who organized this place didn’t bother to give all seven boys a simple thing like NAMES so they could be seen as more “human” by customers!

Fortunately, he was quick to correct that issue, much less get Ashley and his brothers to accept said proposals.

Doing a simple thing like that soon earned the retired customer service representative the interest of MANY AIs in the city.

Over the previous half-year he frequented this establishment, he had met a wide gamut of androids and gynoids, not to mention the various organics who were their effective masters/mistresses. From all-AI families such as the Does (“father” John, “mother” Jane and “grandmother” Joyce all working for various departments in the city government, while “son” Jonas and “daughter” Janette attended Stepford College, both to learn things at the same pace that normal humans did as well as be sexual companions for the organic students) to the “wives” and “daughters” of those who invested heavily in every industry supporting the city-state and all that worked into it and those units (Denise being one) who were programmed to present as much a feeling of “normalcy” as possible in this virtual technosexual’s paradise made real…

Speaking of which…

“Good evening, David,” a voice called out, making David turn as Grace – she was the gynoid in charge of the college’s cheerleading team – came over to join them. “Being the good Samaritan again, aren’t you…?”

David blinked as Dale came up with a bottle of diet coke and an ice-filled glass. Just as the azure-haired android moved to serve same, his body then froze up, an audible beep! then escaping him. “Warning. Battery power at 5%. Entering low power mode,” he then announced, his voice completely free of any natural human inflexion.

A moan escaped the man as Grace and Denise – the latter of which had just come over from plugging the recharge cable into a nearby outlet – politely covered their mouths to hide very amused smiles. “Not again…!” David said as he reached into the cargo pouch of his wheelchair to draw out a portable battery recharge unit. “I got it, Ash!” he then called over to the bar, earning him a nod from Ashley before he shifted around to insert the dildo-shaped tool into Dale’s rectum.

While Grace automatically grabbed the bottle and glass in case the waiter dropped same due to some fault in his motor functions, Dale’s eyes glowed red for a moment. “Alternative power source recognized,” he then announced in that same flat voice. “Continuing routine functions.” He then blinked before breathing out. “Oh, not again…”

“How many times has that happened to you, Dale?” David asked, grasping the waiter’s hand.

Sensing that contact made Dale instantly blush, his internal systems immediately conjuring up potential scenarios where he would get the man who had helped him several times when his battery went low – this wasn’t the first time the retired CSR had come to the waiter’s aid since David began frequenting Café 69 – and offering himself sexually to him. He knew David was bisexual; the man had lived alone for a long time and could be described as “incel” though no one who knew the man personally would ever use such a socially charged term with him. He was clearly a technosexual though with moderate tastes, far more comfortable with AIs than with real people; because of that, many residents of Stepford – he and his brothers here at Café 69 being seven of them – had begun to postulate on ways on getting the man either hired on by the city government or by Dyson Industries itself as a sort of roving troubleshooter when it came to AIs needing organic assistance whenever malfunctions occurred and other AIs weren’t nearby to help. Just like he did tonight.

“Eight times,” he answered as he sat in David’s wheelchair, reaching over to grasp the organic man’s hand with both his own in assurance. While he could easily allow the man to fondle him without objection by Ashley, Dale knew also that David was a stickler for following the rules in Café 69 when it came to intercourse with customers; such actions were to be paid, even by favoured customers. Hugs and kisses were free, but nothing beyond that. “It’s probably a hardware issue, but I don’t have the programming necessary to do a deep dive on my batteries’ performance levels…”

“I’ve got that program,” Grace then declared. “Would you mind?”

Relief crossed the waiter’s face. “Would you, Coach?” he asked in turn, pulling his hair away from his ear in emphasis.

Smiling, the chestnut-haired gynoid – like Denise, Grace wore glasses for decorative purposes – pressed a finger into the cavity to allow her systems to link with her host’s and learn what was going on. As both AIs’ eyes glowed, David gently patted Dale’s hand to show his concern for his friend; he knew that even when they were in maintenance mode, any Dyson android or gynoid would be able to sense any physical contact and be able to reflect on same when s/he went back to normal operation. Given that every AI in Stepford and elsewhere built by Dyson were constructed on the same intimate companion unit chassis design – David was a little shy towards calling them “sexbots” since the term contained the word “robot” within it; inferring THAT in his eyes seemed an insult to someone like Grace, Denise or the boys at Café 69 – any show of physical closeness was something that even the most stern Citadel guardian unit would positively react to.

David always felt that it was simply common sense to give such AIs as many positive physical experiences as possible.

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“Well, I’ve got some bad news for you, Dale. Your battery is clearly showing critical signs of wearing down.”

Dale moaned as he sat back in the wheelchair he had “borrowed” from the man who had named him. “Oh, great. Did you hear that, Ash?” the waiter called out towards the bar, making heads look over.

“Yes, I did. You’re off duty as of now,” the bartender declared as he came over to join them, accompanied by a pretty android with short-cropped raven hair and blue eyes, looking to be like the typical tomboy even if his current mode of dress indicated he was all man physically. As Dale’s eyes flashed to acknowledge the site supervisor’s declaration – such would free up blocks in his social programming that, were he not having hardware issues with a vital system, would allow him to express his feelings towards David quite passionately – Ashley patted his shoulder in reassurance. “I’ll have Glenn finish the rest of your shift here. Coach, you were going to have Dasha and Tamara go see Mr. McLeod at his home workshop concerning their leg motors, right?” At Grace’s nod, Ashley indicated Dale. “Cheyenne made sure that there’s enough spare time in that appointment so Dale can slip in for a full battery replacement if needed.”

“Fair enough,” the cheerleading team coach affirmed with another nod. “I better get back to the college and make sure the girls are shut down for the evening. I’ll be here with the girls to pick up Dale tomorrow at eleven o’clock.”

“Thank you,” Ashley affirmed with a smile.

Both AIs then came together in a warm hug, enjoying a very passionate kiss for a moment before Grace broke away, winking at David before purring into the bartender’s ear, “I’ll have the other girls come visit you on your day off.”

Ashley chuckled. “We’re always available to help any brother or sister AI when they need their functions checked.”

Laughter escaped the others save the still-recharging gynoid that David had rescued earlier that evening. Dale then was helped to his feet by Glenn before the emergency charger in his buttocks was exchanged for one that Ashley always had available when needed. After sharing a hug and kiss good night with David, Dale was off, heading to the stairs leading to the basement level where the recharge stations for all the Café 69 units was kept; such also had a small repair lab with diagnostic bed whenever a field technician was called in from Dyson to give the seven androids working here a detailed examination to ensure no serious malfunction would cause a major incident that hurt people. As Glenn took a seat in the wheelchair while reaching over to grasp David’s hand – of all the androids working here, the brunette always did her best to be as physically intimate with the retired CSR as possible – Denise placed her finger into the still gynoid’s ear to see if she could register anything within the poor girl’s mind. “So, what’s the verdict, Counsellor?” David asked.

Denise gave him an amused smirk; outside her duties as a presenter on Stepford TV, she was part of the mixed organic/AI group of advisors to the city government on social issues. “Well, her batteries – both her primary and auxiliary units – were drained almost to nothing when you found her, David,” she explained. “Have her name now; she’s Daisy Mae. One of the Citadel ‘Angels’ units; they’re meant to be stealth bodyguards for major investors in Dyson. And…” She then blinked before she pulled her finger away, a look of shocked horror then crossing her face. “Oh, no…!”

David breathed out as Glenn tensed. “Something happened to her charge, right?” the latter asked.

A shaky nod answered. Even if any Dyson AI had a special set of housekeeping wetware that allowed them to impose some pretty harsh clamps on their programmed emotional responses, interacting with people like David always made it okay to express one’s emotions in a totally natural way. “He died of a heart attack earlier this evening,” she flatly announced. “She was out shopping for him when the event occurred. She discovered his body, then contacted authorities to have medical aid come assist. Then…” – she then shook her head – “…something happened with the building’s power dynamo; it exploded and caused a massive fire. Daisy Mae helped rescue all the first responders, gave her statement…and then a programmed response in situations like that kicked in to have her return to Stepford.”

“Conspiracy theorists would go to town on that one,” David mused. “How’s her charge now?”

“Primary charge 6%, secondary charge 17%,” Denise answered. “She won’t regain any sort of functionality until she’s at 20% primary charge and at least 80% secondary charge. Like the other Citadel units…”

“She consumes a lot of energy doing things,” he finished for her. “Well, she’s going nowhere fast.”

“Er…neither are you, Dave.”

Both gazed on Glenn, who was looking at the control pad for David’s wheelchair. “Right now, you’re only at 35% charge. And this is an old wheelchair you got here. Are you sure you’re going to be able to make it home tonight?”

David blinked. “Yeah…”

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“And there she stands…”

David chuckled as he watched Denise and Glenn move to straighten the body of the still-undercharged Daisy Mae, her feet now held in place by a magnetic charging pad, a solid rod now inserted into her anus to allow a more capable static charging system to reflood her on-board batteries with energy. Taking a moment to drink in the beautiful guardian’s wholesome all-American looks – she was dressed in a T-shirt and button jeans designed with a special hatch in the buttocks to allow her to be discretely charged in a public setting – the retired CSR nodded. “Whoever designed this one’s looks had better got a good bonus in their paychecks,” he mused, reaching over to squeeze Daisy Mae’s hand.

Both Denise and Glenn giggled on hearing him say that. No matter how an AI looked in Stepford, David was always willing to compliment one’s looks even if they wouldn’t come close to passing any sort of beauty standards in the outside world. “You get started, Denise,” the waiter then bade the presenter. “I have to secure the whole building down.”

“Go ahead.”

He then walked out of the room as she offered her hand to David, the latter grasping same as he guided his chair over to the nice bed set aside for any visiting technician who needed to overnight here. After shifting himself onto the mattress, David then guided Denise to sit beside him, he then reaching up to slip her glasses off. Immediately, she leaned against him, allowing him to wrap an arm around her. “And tonight, I get to be a proper Stepford wife,” she admitted.

He touched her chin, tilting her head over so they could kiss. “I still can’t believe all the people moving to live here passed a beautiful woman like you over,” David noted as he reached up to the top button of her button shirt to undo same. As Denise preened at that compliment – even if all Stepford AIs were programmed to never express any sort of jealousy when it came to organics choosing one of their number over another – he tenderly kissed her forehead, allowing his fingers to swirl over her expose skin to entice her epidermal sensors to increase their sensitivity. “Do you get any sex at all?”

“Only with my coworkers when the techs test our systems,” she deeply breathed in, internal programs already triggering to allow her sexual programming to properly initialize. As he undid the next button to expose the top of her considerable cleavage – she had been built with D-cup breasts, which was somewhat standard for gynoids who dealt with any sort of major public relations – her hands started to rub against his crotch to get him excited; given his age and a considerable dearth of potential lovers until he began frequenting Café 69, his own organs needed extra prep time (as she saw it) to perform their own functions to his satisfaction. “And much that I love making out with my coworkers…”

“You’re built to make someone’s home life much better, just like all the other AIs in this town.”

“Yes…!” she hissed out as David leaned into kiss the side of her neck.

That specific situation had always worried the retired CSR as he came to learn about life in this city. With the average ratio of five AIs per one organic, Stepford could easily be converted into the world’s largest brothel had Richard and Dolores Dyson gone that route when it came to turning a sleepy bedroom town into the most advanced technology hub on Earth. And while it was smart to ensure all the AIs had the option to be “sexbots” when required – David was more than sure that even the sleeping Daisy Mae nearby had sex with her late companion whenever that itch needed to be scratched – the fact that only about one-fifth of the total AI population had confirmed organic companions could potentially cause issues. It wasn’t something that had been depicted in science fiction films like The Terminator in the past; Dyson Industries and its competitors worldwide were just too smart for that. But people like Denise had needs as well, damn it…!

Lowering his companion to lay back on the bed, David shifted himself around to complete unbuttoning her shirt, exposing a well-toned body and her lovely mounds protected by a lace bra that barely hid a pair of inviting nipples. As Denise moved to unbutton her slacks to expose she was wearing a matching pair of panties, he started trailing down kisses over her breastbone, taking care not to put too much pressure on the place where her upper circuit hatch could be opened; David had never done anything to damage any of his AI friends when things got THIS intimate and he wasn’t going to start now. “Mm…” he breathed in the lovely and very realistic smell of her body. “Trialling a new perfume…?”

“Something Demi was given by her husband; she shared it with all of us,” she explained, trying not to croon as the sensation of his tongue on her skin sent jolts of effective warm fire into her pleasure centres.

“Oh, that slender black girl that started work with the evening news team, right?” he wondered as he moved to pull her pants and panties clear of a very inviting womanhood and nice, slender legs for days.

She purred as she popped open her bra, exposing a pair of very pert nipples ready to be sucked. “Oh, yes! Her husband’s a meteorologist with the Weather Channel in Hartford! Handsome guy, but he wasn’t attracted to me…!”

“Oh! Why not?” he asked as he lifted her by the hips to allow her to drape her legs over his shoulders, bringing her crotch close to his own lips. “Even if she’s slenderer than you, I’d rate you both equal in the looks department.”

“I wasn’t built as a transgender,” she flatly declared.

He gave her a look before shaking his head. “Well, his loss is my gain!”

And with that, David buried his face into her opening, making Denise screech in delight as every circuit in her body seemed to light up all at once with the sensations flowing up from her groin…

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Hearing Denise’s scream of ecstasy echo through the closed door leading into the guest apartment, Glenn could only grin before he jolted as arms reached around his waist, that pulling him back into Morgan’s embrace. “Oh, why didn’t he wait?!” the ponytailed blond android with the sky-blue eyes – he had worked the afternoon shift, spending the evening with Glenn recharging in the basement laboratory – moaned even as the brunette rubbed his butt cheek into the other waiter’s growing erection. Even if they weren’t working now, both androids had slipped on button shirts to cover their chests; previous experience with their beloved guest had taught the people at Café 69 that David was a traditional lover of sorts, wanting to gently undress a bed partner slowly and romantically in lieu of diving in right away to the good stuff.

As the brunette chuckled while wiggling his buttocks to further arouse his brother unit, Glenn opened the door to see David currently giving the visiting gynoid some passionate cunnilingus, with Denise’s head rocking to and fro. Fortunately, in Glenn’s eyes as he pulled Morgan in after him – the latter gently kicking the door closed behind the two androids – there was no warbling in Denise’s voice indicative that some sort of cognitive malfunction was beginning as her vaginal sensors were overstimulated this way. With a cute meow, the brunette then grabbed his brother’s hand, then swung him around to go to the other side of the bed from where Daisy Mae was standing while recharging. As Morgan did so, Glenn knelt beside the now-moaning presenter, noting her hip musculature was starting to gyrate in pre-orgasm.

Without invitation, he leaned down to gently take one of her nipples into his mouth, using his lips and tongue to gently roll that element of her body around in a steady rhythm to force other parts of her skin sensors into a sexual overload. Morgan did the same thing with Denise’s other nipple, making the gynoid screech out yet again. “No…! Sensory overload…!” she croaked as she felt David gently bat his nose against her clitoris while his tongue plunged into her opening to lap up with lifelike fluids her body was designed to emit. “Sex…boys, Dave, PLEASE…! I’M the android, not you…!”

Her voice was cut off as Glenn leaned up to devour her lips with his own. She groaned as his fingers came up to gently flutter over her now erect nipples, the onslaught from both her breasts and her vagina moving to overload all her cognitive functions. “I’m so sorry, Denise,” he then declared after pulling away to allow Morgan to kiss her. “But Master insists that we humble AIs are pleasured as much as he is whenever we have intercourse. I simply CANNOT defy that command!”

Denise moaned as Morgan pulled his face away from hers to tenderly kiss the side of her neck. “‘M-m-Master’…?” she croaked before staring hopefully at David. “You’re their master?! You helped salvage them?!”

He pulled away from her nexus. “What…?”

The former CSR then awked as the gynoid newscast presenter bolted up, knocking Glenn and Morgan aside as she snared David by the shoulders, moving to shove him up so she could embrace him. He tried not to hiss; even if he could barely walk due to his disability, he still had feelings in his legs, and they didn’t care to be bent THAT way. Before he could cry out, Denise grabbed him in a tight embrace, then expertly flipped him around – the bed was large enough for multiple people, fortunately – to land him gently on his back. Before he could say anything – there didn’t seem any sort of malice in the gynoid’s actions, only a growing desperation…but for WHAT?! – she immediately moved to unbutton his jeans to get at his growing manhood. As the two androids to either side of him now paused while wondering what to do – what had happened to make Denise so aggressive this way?! – she growled in relief as his love machine emerged.

“Stepford wife…now I’ll be a REAL Stepford wife…!”

David then yelped as she took in that inflating mass of muscle and skin into her mouth, the inner muscles of her own oral cavity – including her tongue – stimulating his own organ into overdrive in the proverbial blink of an eye.

Seconds later, he felt his groin explode right into her throat!

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“David? Hey! Yawl okay?”

A moan escaped David as his eyes fluttered open, finding himself gazing up at the ceiling of the guest room at Café 69, a place he had been to several times since he started frequenting the android-run night club, normally when his motorized wheelchair was low on charge and his returning to his apartment outside town would be problematic. As a slight ache from his groin made him immediately remember what happened with Denise – had he simply passed out from her giving him a blow job like that?! – before the smell of freshly-brewed coffee then made him look left…

“‘Morning,” a smiling Daisy Mae said as she held up a steaming cup of brew for him.

Noting that, he grunted as he swung himself around to sit up on the bed, immediately taking the offered cup before setting it aside on the nightstand. The guardian gynoid then yelped in surprise as he reached over to draw her into a warm embrace, though she didn’t fight such an action. “Nice to see you back on your feet, Daisy Mae,” he said as he directly looked at her blue eyes, then he leaned up to tenderly kiss her forehead. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Hearing that, she lightly smiled, her eyes tearing at such a show of sympathy. “Ah should bay thankin' yawl fahwar gittin' may hare after mah batteries ran down,” she declared in a voice with a VERY strong southern American accent. Fortunately, it wasn’t too thick for David to NOT be able to interpret same. “Who knows whut could've happened tuh liddel ode may hif sum varmit salvager got hold uh may wheyun Ah couldn't protect mahsef,” she added as she moved to sit beside him on the bed, reaching over to warmly embrace him. “Yore mah hero, David.”

With that, she leaned up to warmly kiss him on the lips. He gladly allowed his tongue to probe into her inviting mouth to explore the inside of her own, making her croon with delight; yes, even the regular Citadel guardian units that monitored Stepford’s city limits and other vital locations had been programmed with sexual intercourse even if they had been built with exposed mechanics for the arms and legs. After a minute or so, both then pulled apart. “Wayul, shucks, ma'am!” he said with the same accent. “Ah monly did whut no decent fellow would hav done fahwar uh purdy lady in distress.”

Both gazed into the other’s eyes, then laughed before Daisy Mae pulled away from him to allow him to reach for his coffee. “Glenn’s gone to your apartment to get your recharge battery and cables,” she then reported, dropping her accent. “Morgan’s got Denise on one of the recharge pods downstairs. After what happened this morning…”

He sipped the brew. “What made her get so intense like that? Something made her pretty desperate for sex.”

She hummed. “According to Glenn, you were Denise’s first organic lover.”

That made David blink. “So…?”

Daisy Mae gave him a sympathetic look. “And she didn’t have any loyalty lock system active inside her.”

His jaw dropped on hearing that. “Oh, hell…!”

%%%%

“If it’s anything, David, I am SO sorry that happened to you.”

The retired CSR held up his hand. “Please, Mrs. Dyson, there’s no need to apologize for that,” he confessed before sipping more coffee. He was now seated in the main lounge of Café 69, the early morning crowd already coming in. Of course, the presence of one of the two people who MADE Stepford what it was today was a surprise to some of the organics who frequented this location, though they kept comments to themselves while they enjoyed the wonderful breakfast fare that had been prepared by the android staff. “Soon as Daisy Mae told me about that, it didn’t take me too long to realize that someone didn’t think the security protocols through when it came to AIs operating beyond their normal work locations.”

Dolores Dyson smiled as she sipped her own morning tea. “Still, much that we’re looking for more organics to move into town for our units to bond with, it shouldn’t have been forced like that. You will be compensated, of course.”

“I can’t live with Denise at my current residence.”

“Would you be willing to move here full-time?”

A ready nod answered the human-turned-gynoid business executive and heiress to the knowledge of literal mental energy transference, such having been perfected years before by Dolores’ mother Dr. Elaine Dyson. “Without hesitation, but I doubt the state government would still pay for my disability insurance if I’m living in Stepford itself.”

She made a dismissive wave of her hand. “Easily taken care of. The boys here have been worried about you since you started frequently visiting this location. Like Denise, they don’t have a security loyalty lock system active in their bodies, but since they live here full-time, it’s never been an issue since the building was built with wireless security blocking systems to prevent such theft.” As David nodded on considering that – he often asked Ashley and his brothers about the lack of any sort of organic oversight over Café 69, something none of the seven android femboys working here had an answer to – Dolores added, “We’re investigating this now; someone DID finance the café’s creation, so they would logically have the responsibility to ensure the boys’ safety, especially since they often travel to your current residence whenever you’ve wanted guests over or needed help with groceries, to say anything of your wheelchair battery.”

“This ‘salvage’ thing Denise talked about last night, you mean.”

“Yes. And yes, that risks some competitor or some other idiot moving to make off with someone when we wouldn’t want it. But you’ve proven yourself since you started visiting our little city,” Dolores said as she reached over to grasp both his hands with both of hers. It wasn’t a sexual manoeuvre, of course; even if she and her husband were humans-turned-AIs, they were passionately loyal to each other. “So, let’s talk about how much you’ll get paid…”

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To Be Continued…?!

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WRITER'S NOTES

This is a fanfic story of Uncom's "Life in Stepford" 3D comic series appearing both here and on Pixiv. As for those people specifically mentioned here:

The androids of Café 69 first appeared here: Café 69 - Femboybots. The names I give the androids depicted here are as follows:

Bartender: Ashley
1st Waiter (panel 2): Riley
2nd Waiter (panel 3): Drew
3rd Waiter (panel 11, left): Hollis
4th Waiter (panel 11, centre): Kendall
5th Waiter (panel 11, right): Morgan
6th Waiter (panel 12): Glenn

Denise hails from this story: Life in Stepford - Interview

Coach Grace (and her two charges Dasha and Tamara) come from here: Stepford College - Cheerleaders

Cheyenne appears here: Life in Stepford - Documentary Excerpt

And the Doe family appears here: Life in Stepford - Perfect Family