Lina

Lina

Part 1

To this day, I still can't believe that it happened the way it did. Me, a robo-fetishist with what I thought was a joke program on a borrowed phone, waiting in the bathtub “just in case”, and her....

….well, I suppose that's getting ahead of things, isn't it?

For starters, let's just run through the specifics of my status before it all went down: 30-ish, virgin, didn't get out much, aspiring writer and amateur voice actor, with a back catalog of family issues that don't bear elaborating on. How I got the phone is, to be honest, the most mundane part of the whole thing: a friend of my uncle's was upgrading to a new one, let me have his old one as a “starter”. One app caught my eye right off the bat: “FCon”. I had no idea what it was for, but in the interest of discovery, I opened it.

After a few minutes, you'd probably find it easy to understand why I thought it was a joke. From what I gathered, it'd been written to debug and remotely control androids—specifically, female androids (or “gynoids”, if you want to get technical about it). There were settings to “lock on” to a nearby gynoid, trigger her debug mode (or “command mode”, if one was available—this, straight from the in-app help file) and sliders to test motion of individual limbs, etc. Weird stuff...but, me being me, I didn't delete it. Either the guy who'd given me the phone was as big a robo-fetishist as I was, or he had one Hell of a sense of humor...whatever the case, it looked entirely too well-written to just get rid of.

Flash forward three months. My older brother was the reluctant host of a party for the weekend, and some friends would be bringing their girlfriends, with the chance that they'd bring their friends. There was no way he'd be able to pull it off at his place, so I did him a favor and let him hold it at the house—my house, that I got from our parents. I didn't know any of the “guests”; they were all my brother's friends, or friends of those friends, etc., and I knew their interests would skew far past mine. I'd intended to just chill in my room after the party started...except two “guests” wandered in. One was a girl, about my height—5’6” maybe—with pale-ish skin and long red hair; the other was probably her boyfriend, a tall, typical surfer-dude-looking guy whose head was in the clouds. I was about to tell them to get the Hell out of my room (in less polite terms) when I got a phone call (vibration mode—I hadn't changed the ringtone), but they just turned around and left; one of them mumbled a “sorry, wrong room” at me. I couldn’t even find my phone before the buzzing stopped, and when I did, there wasn’t even a missed call in it. Stupid phone…

Half an hour later, I was in the bathroom—doing my business, at first, but then just reading a book on my phone about an expedition into the Arctic that went really, really wrong. I had no desire to go “mingle,” try to start a conversation and either be ignored or told to piss off....anyway. Midway through a bit in the book where two of the stranded sailors suspect another of murder, the phone started going insane. I thought I was getting a call, or a text, at first....

Nope. It was FCon. Twelve notices—it'd been going off sporadically as the guests arrived.

First reaction: “....what?!”

Second reaction: “....there are gynoids here?! Right now?!”

I would've had a third reaction to this, if not for the fact that FCon rather conveniently informed me that one of these alleged gynoids was on their way to the bathroom at that moment—hence the snap decision to jump in the bathtub and draw the curtain. I had no idea if the thing was just goofing on me or not; if it was, I'd just close my eyes, ignore the sounds of whatever was going on outside the tub, wait until whoever had entered the room left the room, and then get the Hell out of there as soon as possible.

If it wasn't.....

I can't even remember how long I was waiting. All I know is that after however long it was, a girl walked in. A bit shorter than me, blonde, nice tan, orange top and jean shorts....and of course, a very nice body. Not too curvy, her butt wasn't cartoonishly big....in short, she didn't look like she was a gynoid. Yet FCon insisted that she was—thankfully, without beeping continuously, otherwise the jig would've been up as soon as she entered the room.

Feeling both adventurous and stupid, I stepped out of the tub, waiting to get yelled at..only to find that the alleged gynoid was on her phone by the towel cabinet. Didn't even notice me.

Might as well see if this thing works. The “Act. Debug” function was highlighted; I pressed it with my thumb and hoped I wasn't just hallucinating.

The girl froze—for a few seconds. Mid-sentence, too. Without even finishing, she turned off her phone and put it back in her pocket....and proceeded to just stand there, staring at the towels. I got closer, despite part of my brain yelling at me to back off before she snapped out of it....except she never “snapped out of it”. I touched her wrist, to check for a pulse—nada. Neck, same reason—not a damn thing. She wasn't even breathing.

South of the Equator, something was stirring. I ignored it...for the time being.

For some dumb reason, I decided to just ask the girl if she was in Debug Mode or whatever. I'd read so many stories on the forum about this kind of thing—usually they were a bit more abrupt, without the niceties of an attempt at conversation, but I figured I might as well try. “....are you in Debug Mode?”

“Affirmative.” She didn't speak in a staccato, obviously synthetic monotone, but the flatness of her voice still sent my pulse racing. Below the belt line, my, ah, anticipation was growing quite rapidly.

“.....what do you want me to do right now?”

Yes. I did indeed ask that question. Don't ask why, I've still got no idea. If this was some big con, or if she wasn't fully in Debug Mode, the next words out of her mouth were probably going to be “let me leave this room”, or some variation of it. There was no way in Hell she'd say anything else....right?

Well, you can imagine my surprise when she stated “I would like you to undress me.”

My eyes went wide (along with something else a bit further down the totem pole). “....ah, what?”

“I would like you to undress me.”

I glanced at the screen of the phone. For some reason, it wasn't showing her name, but it was showing a lot of “levels”, including “Arsl”—which I quickly translated to “Arousal”. Clearly, this girl—this gynoid—had shown up to the party entirely too horny to think straight, but she hadn't done anything to rectify the situation, and could only address the problem in Debug Mode....maybe it was a virus, maybe she wasn't configured correctly. Hell if I know. With a shrug, I carefully set the phone down and went to work removing her top. At every single second, I'd expected her to “come to life” again, grab me by the wrist and scream “PERVERT!” in my face....and every second that went by without her doing that, my pulse rate went up just a little bit more. The top was easy enough to remove, as was the bra; by the time I got to her shorts I was wondering if this whole thing was just some insane dream. Moving her arms and legs to get the clothes off was....surreal, to be honest; she felt a bit cool to the touch, but other than that and her lack of a pulse (or breathing), there was nothing to indicate that she was anything other than human.

Another stupid question came to my mind as I went about my business: “How old are you supposed to be?”

“Twenty-one.”

Well, at least whoever built her wasn't a prick....anyway, after helping her step out of her shorts and panties, I now had the task of figuring out what I was supposed to do with a 95% naked (she still had her socks and shoes on) fembot standing right in front of me.

The fembot in question made the decision for me: “I would like you to have sex with me.”

At this point, I almost legitimately got pissed off. I've said already that I was a virgin, at that point—I'd had a history as a “solo act”, of course, almost always to stuff from the forum. Thus, I found it bizarre and (in my uniquely stupid way) almost insulting that this naked chick was politely requesting I take her from behind.

As if sensing my hesitation, she repeated herself: “I would like you to have sex with me.”

I'd seen a few clips of this kind of thing before, and they were always more.....I dunno, “dynamic”, I guess, than this. At the very least, I (or the relevant part of my anatomy) had in fact risen to the occasion, so what was about to happen wouldn't be a total flop (that was the actual thought going through my head at the time, believe it or not). Before she could repeat the request a third time, I dropped trou, whipped it out and did what I'd been asked to do—gripping her by the waist to, ah, get things where they needed to go, and all.

What followed was unlike any sex scene I'd ever borne witness to before. I was too stunned to make a sound, and my “partner” was utterly devoid of emotion—no orgiastic cries or moans here. She did make the occasional noise, a sort of quiet “oh” or “ah” here and there—but.....yeah. It was weird.

Despite the high strangeness of the moment, I was in fact giving it my all.....

….and somewhere midway through it, I thought, you're on a roll so far, let's see how much further you can go.

Still thrusting away like there was no tomorrow, I managed to say “Turn your head...180 degrees....to look at me.”

If she was a gynoid, what happened next would be amazing. If not....

Thankfully, I didn't have to dwell on the “if not” for too long—a seam appeared at the base of her neck, and her head actually rose up a centimeter or so and rotated to face me! And yes, there was, in fact, a servo rizzing noise to go with it. Even more insane than this, her face had no expression at all—just a sort of calm, anticipatory look.

I'm pretty sure that's what pushed me over the edge. Dropped my payload right then and there.

Once in the depths of sweet release, I let go of her and actually staggered backwards, nearly falling on my ass in the process. She was still standing, surprisingly; her head was still rotated to face me, that patient, calm look still there.

I sat there, gear out, gasping in surprise and shock, for probably a full minute. She stood there, staring, the whole time.

“.....turn.....turn your head back around, please,” I managed, still gasping.

“Affirmative.” The expression on her face never changed as her head turned, lowering back down a centimeter (with that beautiful rizzing again). Once it finished, she was just standing there completely still (and buck-naked).

Seeing as how I'd undressed her, I decided to show my appreciation for the best (and, in all honesty, first) sex I'd ever had by putting her clothes back on her. I didn't really have a lot of other options—I sure as Hell wasn't going to leave her just standing naked in the bathroom for any length of time.

I was a bit quicker in redressing her than I'd been with the undressing—due in part to not wanting some rando to open the door, see what was going on and go yell about it to every other person there. She never acknowledged my actions, by the way, while I was putting her clothes back on her; she just...stood there, the entire time.

Once she was fully (re)dressed, I put my own pants back on (after drying what needed to be dried), grabbed the phone and walked past her to the door. “Ah, follow me to my room, please.”

“Affirmative.”

My room, thankfully, was just a quick right turn away from the bathroom. Even better, there were no randos in the hall, or lingering by the door of my room or anything like that; everyone was either in the living room or outside, playing Frisbee golf (or more accurately, chucking the Frisbee around with reckless abandon and nailing each other in the back of the head with the stupid thing).

“Just...sit on the bed, for now....” I barely acknowledged the “affirmative” that she replied with, instead pacing back and forth next to the bed. This....this was unprecedented. This weird-ass random program on a phone that I was given as a gift just so happened to actually work as a debug tool for gynoids, and the incredibly attractive girl who just so happened to be sitting on my bed at that moment (and who I'd just had sex with) was, in fact, a gynoid.

Right....question time.

“Why did you want to have sex with me?” The stupid question trend continued—I was still basking (or was it sweating?) in the afterglow, and that was the only thing I could think to ask.

“It was the highest-priority task in my process manager.” ….okay, not what I expected...then again....

“And, ah, why was that the highest-priority task?”

“It was assigned by my owner before we left—”

“Okay, okay, just....I get it.” The picture was starting to form in my mind....her owner, or boyfriend, or whoever, thought it'd be a laugh to get her sexed-up and then turn her loose on any unsuspecting rando at the party—probably so he could bust in on them and beat up the poor sod she was with. There was, of course, one flaw in this plan... “Is your owner still here?”

“.....processing....processing....” Every damn time she said that word, I felt stirrings in my gut (and elsewhere).

“.....she is currently outside—”

“Wait, how do you know—she's outside?!” Just one twist after another....

“Her bio-metric signs are being measured by her smartwatch. She is currently unconscious.”

Well, that makes sense.... She'd probably planned exactly what I'd thought, except she derailed her own “brilliant idea” by getting sloshed. “The smart watch isn't, ah, receiving anything from you at the moment, is it?”

“...I do not understand.”

“The watch can send data to you, right?”

“Affirmative.”

“Can you send data to it?”

“I can only send data to the watch if debug mode is activated from the watch.”

I hadn't felt more relief wash over me since the time I'd had to go get my homework off the bus after school. “So she has no idea that you're in here with me right now, then....” I almost laughed. “She's drunk off her ass outside without a clue that you're—”

“Would you like me to activate the watch and inform her of my current location?”

FUCK! “No, no, no, ah, no, that won't be, ah, necessary....” Nice dodge there, genius. “Can you, ah...return to human mode on your own, or do I need to do anything?”

“I am capable of returning to human emulation mode on my own.”

“....okay, then, ah, do that, please.”

She didn't even say “affirmative” this time—all she did was sit there, perfectly still, for a moment. Her eyes glowed for a bit, then she blinked a few times....all the while, I couldn't stop staring. This went on for a few seconds, then something in her beeped (and I felt something deep in the pit of my stomach leap), and she sat a bit straighter...then, as natural as anyone else I've ever met, she turned to look at me, smiling. “Hi, there!”

“.....hi. I'm, ah...Matt. Matt Harker.” I tried for a smile, but probably ended up giving her a half-smirk, half-grimace.

Apparently, this was enough to concern her. “Are you all right? You look like you just—”

“You....ah....do you remember anything about the past few minutes?” Yet another wonderfully stupid question in a day full of them...at least, that's what I thought.

“I know I went into your bathroom, and then you put me in debug mode...” She counted off the moments on her fingers (which, of course, were perfectly manicured). “....I asked you to undress me, then I asked you to have sex with me, and you did.” She smiled again. “Thanks for putting my clothes back on, by the way.”

I'd never had a more awkward silence in my life before that moment. “....so,” I reasoned, “you...didn't mind me, ah...”

She rolled her eyes. “That's what I'm here for,” she replied, giving me an “oh, you” kind of look. “And before you ask, no, I'm not just a sexbot.” She sighed. “Every time we—I mean, me and the one who made me—get invited to a party like this, she ramps up my arousal and tells me to 'have fun'. We've already been to three parties earlier this week, and she never turned my arousal settings down between them!”

“.....you, ah, never actually told me your name,” I mused, sounding about as suave as a dead fish.

“...oh, right! I'm Lina.” The girl grinned again.

“.....Lina,” I repeated, as if what we'd done in the bathroom had somehow drained my brain cells in addition to my earlier “contribution” to her. “Nice name, Lina....”

“Are you okay? I don't mean to pry, or anything, but....”

I managed a nervous chuckle. “Back there, in the bathroom.....that was my first time.”

Lina's eyes widened. “Really? I couldn't tell!”

“Well, maybe you could tell me why it is that your owner turns your horniness all the way up to eleven and sets you loose at random parties,” I snapped—at least, I intended to snap. The combination of exhaustion from the sex and the sheer disbelief at what was going on had taken every bit of anger out of me. “....I thought the most interesting thing I was going to do today was count how many action figures Mattel ever made of the Joker....”

Lina gestured for me to sit next to her on the bed. “You did great,” she assured me. “My arousal levels would still be at maximum if you hadn't.”

“....so, you have to get laid to turn them down if your owner doesn't?”

“One of the quirks of my design,” Lina replied, shrugging. “That, and she thought it was ironic at the time.”

“.....that's pretty fucking stupid. No offense to your owner.”

“Well, she wants me to 'do my own thing'.” Lina shrugged again. “I was built....five months ago, but written probably a year ago. My A.I., I mean....that's what was written—”

“Wait, wait, wait.” I held up a hand. “Your owner wrote...you....first, then made your body?”

“It's complicated.” Lina flipped a bit of hair out of her eyes—it was insane that such a small action made her look so damn human. “Anyway....you have a nice room.” She gestured at the bookshelf (loaded with sci-fi novels, strategy guides and an entire row of manga), my action figure collection and the rack of DVDs.

I chuckled. “You're the first person to tell me that in a long time.....ah, speaking of firsts....”

Lina rested a hand on my shoulder. “You weren't my first,” she admitted, “but so far, you've been the most polite.”

“.....the most....polite.” I gave an eyebrow that The People would've cheered for days. “I used a program on a phone to put you in Debug Mode without asking you—”

“Well, I needed to be put in Debug Mode!” Lina insisted. “I was going to the bathroom to try and call out to find a shop that'd turn my arousal levels back down, instead of staying here and having to deal with the usual parade of guys who swear they're God's gift to the entire female gender.” She rolled her eyes (part of my brain, even at that moment, wanted to call them “ocular receptors”, because meh) at the thought. “I didn't think anyone here even had a copy of FCon on their phone.”

I held up the object in question. “.....the funny thing is, I got this as a gift, from a friend of my uncle's.”

“Let me see....” I handed Lina the phone, and she thumbed through the screens for a bit, frowning. “....how long ago did you get this phone?”

“Three months. Why, is Ricky in trouble or something?”

“....is that what he called himself?” Lina was giving me a suspicious look.

“He was a friend of my uncle's, and my uncle works on exotic cars and arcade cabinets—”

“Interesting...” Lina was focused entirely on the phone, now....and her eyes were glowing. “....three months ago....he was supposed to hand this in....”

Something in the tone of her voice suggested that whatever fun I was having now was about to come to a swift, sudden and probably jail-related end. “....if you want me to give up the phone, you can leave with it. I just—”

“What?”

“.....I'm in trouble, right? For using FCon on you, and the, ah....”

“Like I said, you did me a big favor with that.” Lina gave me a reassuring smile. “It's who used to own this phone that I'm worried about....he went missing two months ago. Nobody's heard from him since then...” She continued thumbing through the screens on the phone. “....you said your uncle repairs exotic cars?”

“...among other things. Why, is he in—”

Lina turned to face me, putting her hands on my shoulders. “What if I told you that what you did for me earlier means you might be able to....have me?”

“.....'have' you?” I was starting to get tired of repeating every other phrase Lina said. “Sorry, I just....”

“...if I told you it means I'd be able to live with you, be your girlfriend or whatever else you need me to be?”

“....I'd ask if this was a prank, first off.” WAY TO GO, CAPTAIN HONESTY!

“It's not.” Lina's smile was warming my heart and embiggening the same thing she'd become intimately acquainted with in the bathroom, all at once. “I'm really, truly telling you this....”

“.....then I'd say.....I'm all for it, even if I have no idea what the fuck is going on.”

Lina frowned. “D'you have to cuss so much, Matt?”

“.....it's a defense mechanism when I get overwhelmed by something I've never had happen to me before.”

“Even if it's something you've....dreamed about before?”

And she knows about the forum. “.....ah....”

My hesitation earned me a sigh. “Look, Matt. My owner didn't think anyone with your particular...proclivities...would be at any of the parties here, and I certainly didn't expect to run into someone running such an up-to-date version of FCon, especially here. I'm not mad about you using it on me, I'm not mad that you had sex with me—after all, I asked you to, remember?” Lina lightly prodded me in the arm. “....I am wondering why you were waiting in the tub—”

“I'd been taking a sh.....doing my business, in there! The phone went off, with twelve signals.....”

“....I didn't think there were that many others here.”

“....yeah, well, I damn near panicked when one of those signals—which happened to be you—actually walked into the bathroom.....” I sighed. “What does any of this do with your question, the whole 'you can have me' thing?”

“....my owner wants to start on a new project,” Lina explained. “And seeing as how I classify as sentient on the charts...y'know what, we don't need to go into details on that now—”

“Go into details about what?”

“....I'll explain later. Anyway, I'm sentient, so she can't just drop me off at the nearest Goodwill or recycling center. She's been using these party-hopping trips to....find someone, I guess, for me. Someone I'd be interested in, romantically and, well, sexually....”

“And I get the part because I just so happen to have an app on my phone that you found useful.”

“It's not just the phone, you doof!” Lina was giggling, now. “....you're just....you! You're not trying to act like you're James Bond or Evan Stone or whoever....you're just you. You didn't cut to 'sweet-talking' me, or just stripping me and having your way with me when I was in Debug mode....you asked.”

“.....and that somehow makes me better than anyone you've been with before.”

“Believe me, Matt, compared to the last three guys I met, you're a saint.”

“Right.....I just....” I chuckled again; my brain was still having issues with trying to wrap around the full details of what I'd just been through. “...I still find it kind of hard to believe that you're a gynoid....”

I stopped, noticing Lina staring at me—not lifelessly, like she'd done with her Linda Blair routine in the bathroom, but with a smile. Her eyes flicked down for a second....directing me to the somewhat-trapezoidal seam that had just formed above her breasts (again, like her butt, they weren't too big...I'd say a high B cup or a low C, at the very least). “...well, go on,” she prompted.

Again, I hesitated; it felt like a full hour before I finally reached out to the skin highlighted by the seam....

...and yet again, my pulse (and something else) started rising when it popped out.

“Removing it won't hurt, if you're wondering.”

“Right, right....” I managed to tug the thing out to reveal what was underneath it...

To be quite honest, before that moment I'd never really understood the use of phrases like “my heart leapt up into my throat” or stuff like that. Now, staring at the exposed panel with its USB port, a 15-in-one card reader and indicator lights for stuff I had no hope of understanding, I was floored.

I heard myself ask yet another utterly stupid (to my mind, at least) question: “....what exactly were you made to do?”

“In all honesty, I don't have a specific purpose or 'directive',” Lina replied. “I started as a coding experiment—” She tapped the side of her head, again alluding to her A.I. having been written before her body was built. “....and the rest was done later, as a home-build.”

“....home-build?” The echo effect, yet again, this time due to me being mesmerized in equal measure by the panel and by how close I was to Lina's boobs.

“Weellll, 75% home build....my parts and such were sourced from the Institute.”

“...and are you, ah, modeled after anyone in particular?” The stupid questions just kept on coming.

“A little bit.” Lina made a “50/50” motion with one hand. “My measurements—height, limbs, all that boring stuff—are basically dictated by my internal frame. Stuff like my drive system—it'd probably be 'propulsion' if I was a vehicle—and some padding...” She smirked, noticing my stare had drifted to one of her boobs. “...anyway, stuff like that can go a long way towards making me look a bit more unique—there's some in my arms and legs, too, not just in the more obvious bits.” She rolled her eyes. “You can cover the panel now, by the way.”

“...cover the....oh, right.” I managed to not put her skin panel back the wrong way around. “....sorry.”

“You don't need to apologize so much, Matt,” Lina reminded me. “I appreciate the sentiment, but...”

“I get it, I get it....” Another chuckle left my mouth. “....you didn't say if your face was modeled after anyone specific, by the way...you don't have to go into it if you don't want to.”

“She designed it herself—my owner, I mean.” Lina glanced off to the side, grinning. “Apparently, it was something she just couldn't get out of her head until she realized it somehow, in some form...” She gestured at herself; it struck me as utterly weird that it'd taken me so long to get a good look at her face—the only thing I'd noticed back in the bathroom was that patient, calm and almost blank look when she'd done the 180-degree turn at my, ah, request. Up close, I could see now that there was nothing too exaggerated in either direction—she was attractive, but not so much so that it might be a distraction.

The height and spacing of her eyes, the positioning and size of her nose, the length of her mouth, the thickness of her lips and the structure of her cheekbones....it all brought to mind countless character creation suites from games I'd played (or watched other people play) over the years.

“....amazing.” It took a few seconds for me to realize I'd spoken.

Lina arched an eyebrow. “My face is 'amazing'?” she mused, sounding equally amused and intrigued.

“....there's something familiar,” I muttered, “but something.....” I reached out a hand to brush her cheek, expecting her to shy away—which she didn't. “....must've taken hours to fine-tune everything.”

“I had a bit of input,” she replied, her voice soft. “I actually got to watch her develop my face, at one point.” Noticing my confusion, she grinned. “A.I. first, body second, remember?” She didn't object to me tracing a finger along the contours of her face; if anything, she seemed...relieved. “The last guy I met at a party like this,” she mused, “said I had lips like a sex doll.”

I recoiled. “...really?!”

“Along with saying it'd be a shame if I 'couldn't fit it in there'....I'll let you guess what 'it' was.” She rolled her eyes at the thought. “Fell asleep midway through, if you're wondering...he was midway through his fifth beer.”

“....has anyone else actually...complimented you on your looks?”

“Pretty sure being compared to a sex doll, a porn star and 'the last three girls I had' aren't what you have in mind.”

“Hell no......” I shook my head. “So they were just....”

Lina gestured at her boobs and her waist. “Purely there for the T & A.” She guided my hand back to her face. “It was nothing like this....it wasn't nearly as....”

“Intimate?” I was surprised at how quiet I sounded.

“Good choice of words there....” She paused for a moment.

“....what?”

“You haven't asked if I want to 'go again', or anything like that.”

“....am I supposed to have done that?”

Lina giggled, which confused the Hell out of me. “What?! Is there some kind of protocol I'm supposed to be following here where we have a heartfelt conversation for a bit and then just get right back to—”

“What's wrong with just talking?” Lina had stopped giggling, but was still smiling. “I don't have a problem with that...”

“.....y'know what? I don't have a problem with 'just talking' either.” I got up from the bed, quickly explaining that I was just going to the kitchen to get a bottle of water. “You won't glitch out or crazy on me if I accidentally spill anything on you, right?”

“Fully waterproofed.” Lina did a funny eyebrow thing. “Just in case you were getting any ideas...”

Whatever I was going to say in protest was cut off by a laugh. “Go get your water...get me one, too, if you don't mind.”

I was in and out of the kitchen faster than I could think—the water bottles were in the mini-fridge, and I was able to get them without anyone in the living room noticing (they were all too busy playing some stupid party game anyway...pretty sure it was “Never Have I Ever” or something along those lines). Bottles in hand, I headed back to my room—somehow thinking that, in the brief span of time I'd been out, Lina had changed her mind about me and left. Thankfully, my brief burst of paranoia was unfounded; she was sitting on the bed reading a book off the bookshelf when I got back, looking up with a smile as I closed the door. “You've got a nice collection here,” she mused.

“The books, or the figures?” I unscrewed the cap on my bottle.

“Both, really....” She accepted the bottle I offered her. “Thanks...it's cold!”

“Straight out of the mini-fridge....it's not going to be a problem, is it?”

Lina shook her head. “On the contrary...” She took a long swig. “....helps with cooling the internals.” She twisted the cap back on, nodding. “I have other cooling methods, but every little bit helps, y'know?”

I nodded, taking a drink from my own bottle. “So...what now?”

“Dunno...unless you want to go again.”

“You just said you didn't have a problem with just talking....”

“I know, and I don't....but when I was in Debug Mode....I did get to 'appreciate' what went on in the bathroom, but...”

“You prefer being in full human mode,” I finished. “Just....this is going to sound fucking stupid....”

“I'm sure it won't,” Lina countered. “And you don't have to swear so much, y'know....”

“....do you have....an internal volume control, or anything like that?”

“Don't want to get any unwanted attention from outside?” Lina was giggling again, twirling a bit of hair between her fingers. “I can put myself on mute if you really want....”

I nodded. “Yeah, that....that'd be great. Last thing I need is one of the randos outside to come wandering in.....”

Whatever I'd planned on saying next trailed off rather quickly—Lina had already started taking her clothes off, from the bottom up. The shoes went first—to my relief, she didn't just kick them off, but actually slid 'em off, one by one, and set them down by the bed. Next, the socks—I swear, I'd never seen any woman manage to make taking off a pair of socks look so damn erotic before. The shorts came next, followed by her underwear; finally, she ditched the top and slowly, carefully undid the straps of her bra, setting it aside as she'd done with the rest.

Once she was fully disrobed, she turned to regard me. “Your turn.”

I tried my best to match her “undress from the bottom up” routine; shoes first (I nearly fell over trying to get one of them off), then socks (this time, I did fall over, backwards onto the bed), then jeans, the shirt and finally my briefs. I had my own reasons for the slow disrobe—among other issues in my life, I'd had a fluctuating weight problem, and as of two years prior had finally gotten things under control...but I still bore a few signs of struggling with it, mostly stretch marks on my sides and inner thighs. I'd stopped wearing shorts for that exact reason, even around the house.

Lina, thankfully, didn't remark on them. She just took me by the hand and helped me into my bed.

“I'll take the lead,” she whispered. “Ready?”

I nodded.....

There are a ton of ways I could describe what happened next. On the one hand, I could start throwing around words like “heaving”, “throbbing”, “pulsing”, “quivering”, “sensual” and all that stuff, but that'd turn this into one of those crappy bodice-rippers (y'know, the ones that have that guy who still can't believe it's not butter on the covers). I could also go the route of mentioning “contractions” from certain “walls” of Lina's anatomy—plenty of stories on the forum have that kind of descriptive language, and more power to'em....but to put it in those terms here would be a disservice to what went on between us. So, in the interests of not sounding like a trashy romance novel, I'll sum it up as follows: it had a slow start, built up rather effectively and gave a spectacular finish, without any dodgy bits anywhere in between.

And no, there was no “Swirl”, “Twist”, “Pinch” or stopping short involved anywhere.

Anyway......

Lina and I laid next to each other for a few minutes, me still gasping, Lina smiling.

“.....was that....as good....as before?” I managed.

“No.....” Lina turned to regard me with a grin. “Better.”

My eyes went wide. “....no kidding?”

Lina kissed me on the cheek. “Nope. You outdid yourself.”

“Yeah, well.....you helped...”

“C'mon.” Lina threw the covers off, looking graceful and absolutely smoldering (metaphorically, not literally...unlike so many of the stories I'd read, our second time didn't end with her in pieces) as she got out of the bed. “Let's go clean off in the bathroom, then we can come back in here and talk....”

“Right, right....” My head was still swimming. “I'll, ah....get the clothes....”

Once in the bathroom (unobserved by any wandering randos, all of whom were still outside and probably still chucking a Frisbee around), Lina invited me in to join her in the shower, and...well, how exactly are you supposed to say “no” to someone so beautiful? We both climbed in, and for the next few minutes, Lina proceeded to scrub me down in what had to be the most...okay, I'm going to break my earlier rule here and use the word “sensual”, because there's no other way to describe it. It was a lot like how she'd undressed from the bottom-up, really—granted, she didn't start scrubbing at my feet and work her way to my shoulders or anything like that...it was more of how it felt.

I did the best I could to return the favor, all the while hoping that she wouldn't start sparking or anything like that—I'd read enough stories on the forum about androids not taking too well to water, and I didn't want Lina to meet a similar fate. In any case, she didn't glitch out, neither of us slipped, and it was a pretty good clean for both of us—granted, we each handled our own scrubbing below the belt line, since I wasn't about to ask and I didn't want Lina to have to ask me, so...yeah.

I let Lina get out first—she made a joke about me just wanting to see her ass, I groaned, and she giggled.

When it came time to dry off, I handed her a towel, and she gently tossed one to me...nothing about it felt like I was interacting with a lifelike robot. Every motion, every look, every glance—if it hadn't been for the phone freezing her, her head turning around and her opening her panel, I never would've known she wasn't human.

Granted, who she was meant just as much to me as what she was...

After we got dressed—which saw me nearly try on Lina's top by accident, prompting another giggle fit from her—we both headed back into my bedroom. There was...maybe one girl in the hall, on her phone; she didn't notice either of us, and actually looked kind of nervous—I couldn't tell, since the light was off, but she gave the impression that she was trying very hard to not be noticed by anyone else there.

I wrote it off after a while, and just made my way back to my room with Lina—the matter of what she was had already been firmly established. Now, it was time to ask who she was....

Right off the bat, she clarified that she didn't even have a last name yet. “I've had a few, over the weeks,” she admitted, “but those are just in case I get stopped. I've been working on getting some new papers made, for legal reasons...” She rolled her eyes. “Other than that, I can't really complain.”

“And you live with....the one who made you?”

Lina nodded. “I don't mind calling her my 'owner',” she admitted. “She doesn't treat me like I'm 'hers', either...she lets me do my thing, as long as I don't get in trouble.”

“...and your own thing is....”

“Shopping, hanging out, looking for work...” Lina shrugged. “The party thing—me going with her from party to party, like this one.....that's a bit more recent.”

“Sounds like a pretty decent arrangement...what's the catch?”

“The 'catch' is, I don't advertise my true nature or get in trouble.” Lina sighed. “I've done a pretty good job at both...or at least, I was doing a good job at both, until you kinda sorta maybe forced me out of the first one today—not that I'm complaining, or anything.” She grinned. “Like I said, you did me a favor by using FCon back in the bathroom.”

I nodded. “I'm still trying to get that into my skull, y'know...why the Hell is the inside of my mouth so damn dry?” Lina looked a bit concerned, but I waved it off. “...I'll just head to the kitchen, real quick...get a bottle of water or something to drink, then be right back...feel free to, ah, check out my books if you want!”

Lina nodded, heading over to the shelf and picking one at random.

True to my word, I headed back to the kitchen to get two more bottles of water—that nervous-looking redheaded girl from before was just standing around, not really talking to anyone—and then headed back to my room. Lina was back on the bed, still reading. “Welcome back,” she beamed, accepting the second bottle. “I would've finished the first...”

“I figured this would be better than cigarettes...I don't smoke anyway.” I shrugged. “So, now that we, ah....”

“Know each other intimately?” Lina offered.

“Yeah, that.....what now?”

“Well,” Lina replied, “there was a bit more to me offering to go a second time.” She set the book aside and motioned for me to sit next to her on the bed again. “Before the whole transfer of ownership thing could be completed—”

“You needed a sample of viable genetic material from me?”

Lina frowned. “....what?”

“....sorry, it's just....I watch a lot of sci-fi shows, read a lot of novels....I just thought—”

Lina cut me off by kissing me on the cheek again. “I get it. I've watched a lot of shows and read a lot of novels too, y'know...Lucy doesn't just have me march around the house cleaning up after her all the time.”

“Lucy ....your owner?”

“Mm-hmm. Like I said, she's starting on another project—no clue what it is, but it's probably another A.I./android thing, and she can only have one with her at a time...” She draped an arm around my shoulder, grinning. “The whole idea of party-hopping to find someone for me was....a mutual concept,” she admitted. “I didn't have a problem with it, and she thought it'd be an interesting test.”

“So she decided to try out your social interaction by...party-hopping.”

“Let me put it this way, Matt. If you'd met me out there, in the crowd with the rest of those people, without the phone....would you have been able to guess I wasn't human?”

“.....in all honesty, no.” I chuckled. “I still find that just....amazing, y'know...”

Lina nodded. “....and all of this, going from one party to another, getting with guys....I've never been able to ask any of them what I'm about to ask you, because we never really got that far, so....” She put her hands on my shoulders, staring into my eyes. “....do you accept me for both who I am and what I am?”

I didn't hesitate. “Yes. I accept you for both.”

“And you're not just saying that because—”

“Lina,” I cut in, “from the moment we....ah....” My bravado faltered a bit. “....ever since we met each other, over in the bathroom, and since we've been talking in here, I've been thinking about nothing but spending more time with you, getting to know you—and getting to know how to fix you, how to make sure you're running at peak efficiency, how to upgrade you if at all possible...and most importantly, just being with you.”

To my surprise, Lina's eyes were brimming with tears—I thought, at first, that I'd massively botched it and said something completely insensitive, until I noticed she was still smiling. “Really?”

“......yeah. Really.”

Without another word, she wrapped me in a hug. “.....thank you, Matt.”

“Yeah, well...” I couldn't think of anything meaningful to add, so I just returned the embrace, letting her weep tears of joy into my shoulder. A few minutes passed before we broke the embrace; Lina dried her eyes, the smile still on her lips as she did. “ Lucy is going to flip out....”

“Hopefully, in a good way...” I retrieved the phone. “I'm still wondering....”

“The other eleven signals?”

I frowned. “....you some kind of psychic, too?”

Lina stuck her tongue out at me, which I found irresistibly adorable. “I've been thinking about them, too, to be honest...if my arousal levels hadn't been at the top of my priority queue, I'd have pinged one or two of them, maybe fired off a wireless question asking who they were with...”

“But first you had to go sort out the 'me so horny' problem,” I finished. “Which led to...”

Lina mussed my hair and giggled. “How many of those stories on the forum end this way?”

“Before I answer that, tell me this: have you been on the forum before?”

“A few times, always as a 'guest'....I actually thought about signing up, but Lucy told me it'd probably be a bad idea to pass off selfies of myself as 'photo manipulations'....” Lina took another swig from the second water bottle. “Said she'd send me to Reclamation if I ever tried to intentionally damage myself for a 'photo op', too.”

“....Reclamation?”

“Long story, I'll explain later.” Lina nodded at the bookshelf. “So....you said you're a writer?”

“Aspiring writer. There's a difference.” I chuckled. “Aspiring writers are lucky if they get anything published, especially if they have to worry about relatives always pitching lame ideas and proposing 'their ways' of rewriting old TV shows...” I crossed to the other side of the shelf, returning with the Inspiration Notebook—or rather, the current year's “edition” of the series of notebooks that I'd written down my most interesting dreams in, occasionally working them into ideas. “All of these are mine,” I explained, handing it over to Lina. I watched her thumb through the notebook, nodding her approval. “And you've turned all of these into books?”

“Short stories, mostly....but I did get one novel written, based on my dreams.” I pointed to a novel on the top shelf, with Dreams of a Steel Falcon written in one of those “retro-futuristic” fonts on the spine. “Took a while to work everything into a coherent 'plot', and all that...but once I managed to hammer out the basics, it all came together pretty quickly.”

Lina got off the bed and picked up the book, flicking through it in record time. For a first novel, it was kind of...I guess the best term would be “elementary”. It's a standard kind of story—small-town guy longs to meet a girl, small-town guy meets girl who just so happens to be on the run from dark forces, girl turns out to be the last hope for her people, girl turns out to be an incredibly powerful android....okay, maybe not all of it was standard, but it did draw comparisons to a few other works (all of them favorable, thankfully). Once Lina closed the book—about twenty-five seconds later—I sat down by her. “Well?”

“...you could tell I was reading it that fast?”

“Call it a hunch...seriously, though, what did you think?”

“Well....” Lina handed me the book. “I liked it. The pacing was...off, in a few parts, and at least a few of the secondary characters were kind of....I dunno, annoying, maybe?”

“The salesman,” I muttered. “That salesperson alien who talks like a used-car dealer.”

Lina actually snorted as she giggled. “...I wasn't gonna say anything...”

“Every review—Every. Single. Review—has mentioned that one character.” I flipped to the page where said character first appeared. “He was supposed to just be a one-off, but....I kept thinking of more and more stuff for him to say, how he'd react to others....he just sort of got away from me.”

“Well, he didn't completely wreck the story,” Lina assured me. “The one friend of the main character was kind of nice.”

“If it's the one I think you're talking about...” I rolled my eyes. “I actually made the local news when this was published,” I added. “The real irony there is that I stopped watching the local news way the Hell back in 2015....well, after things got a bit....stupid....”

I felt Lina's hand on my arm. “You don't have to go into details about it if you don't want to.”

“....thanks.” I headed back to the other side of the shelf, picking up a rather thin binder. “And these,” I stated, “are the only ideas my brother ever put down to writing before he got pissed off at me and decided to throw himself back into his desk job just because I tried to give him a bit of constructive criticism.”

Lina took her time reading the binder, occasionally making a face at what she found on the pages. “...he actually wanted to write books based on these ideas?”

“He wasn't even thinking of books,” I scoffed. “He was thinking of TV series, or even movies....”

“....of this?!” Lina recoiled at one page in particular—I knew exactly which one.

“Apparently, he thought his 'vision' was a lot better than what any fans of the show 'ever knew they wanted'.” I couldn't help but think back to when he'd pitched the idea to me, how proud he seemed to be of it...and how oblivious he was to the fact that only he would ever find his interpretation of that particular show to be anything remotely resembling “entertaining”.

Lina flipped a few pages ahead. “.....this page is all just...sentences.”

“Oh, that one...” I sat down next to her, going over each line and shaking my head. “He thought it'd be a great idea to take the 'GDAF' approach to reworking the show.”

“....GDAF?” Lina echoed, frowning.

“Grim Dark As Fuck.” I rolled my eyes. “And he never had full outlines, for his ideas, or bullet-point lists of personality traits and such for his characters....he could never nail down anything like that. I had five folders' worth of notes for Dreams of a Steel Falcon, and damn near everything from those made it into the book....” I gestured at the binder. “..all he could ever come up with was that.”

“...well,” Lina admitted, “there's....a glimmer of what might be a sliver of a decent idea, buried in all of this...I mean, if he took his time and made notes, he might actually have something worth working with.”

“....you really think so?”

“Well, if he put some time into it, definitely...” She gently set the binder down on the bed. “....just, not that.”

“You've summed up in five minutes what I tried to tell him for five years.” I chuckled. “He probably wouldn't take your advice anyway...the only thing he ever wanted to hear in relation to his efforts was 'I'd watch it', or 'I'd buy it on DVD'. I tried to tell him—dozens of times—that nobody was going to watch what he wrote...” I picked up Dreams of a Steel Falcon again. “....when this got published—I mean, not right after, because right after it hit the shelves he was all 'Glad for you, bro', slap on the back, stuff like that....but then he actually read it.”

“...and?” Lina was perched on the edge of the bed, wide-eyed.

“He was pissed. And I mean royally pissed. He just 'couldn't get' why people actually liked what I wrote. After a few weeks he went back and basically regurgitated his own ideas into what he claimed to be a novel—changed all the names, but if you knew what to look for....anyway, he went to my publisher, asked if they'd release his book, too.”

“What'd they say?”

“Laughed his ass out of the building. He set his manuscript on fire in the sink that night.”

Lina looked genuinely sorry for him. “....that must have been terrible for him...”

“He says he got over it...I have my reasons to doubt him.” I sighed. “Y'know....you're not acting at all like....GOD, this is going to sound so stupid....”

My hesitation seemed to brighten Lina's mood. “I won't think you're stupid for asking it...I don't act like what?”

“....like a robot!” I actually laughed. “You're using contractions when you speak, you don't just sit there and stare at the wall when you're done talking, you move like a real person...” I shook me head at the sheer weirdness of it—“it” being either my situation or the fact that Lina was the least robotic gynoid I'd ever...encountered, pretty much (not to mention the first).

“Would you prefer it if I act. Like. A. Robot?” Lina's voice went into a deliberate monotone as she spoke, stiffly rising from where she'd been sitting on the bed.

“I'd prefer it if you act like you.” I ignored the growing, ah, enjoyment of her brief performance. “Not some..blatantly fake robot act, or anything, but just you.”

Midway through a halting, robotic step towards me, Lina stopped. “....really?”

“....yeah. Really.”

Any tenderness the moment might have had was lost when the door flew open to reveal...that girl I'd seen in the hall, on the way back from showering off. Lo and behold, she was also one of the two guests who'd barged into my room earlier, when the party was just getting started. “Ah, hi....” I arched an eyebrow at her.

“....this isn't the bathroom...” She glanced over her shoulder, as if regretting being in the house at all.

“Just take a left from here and you'll find it.”

“.....thanks.” She turned on her heel and pulled the door closed; a few seconds later, the bathroom door slammed shut, and the taps on the sink were turned on.

“Well....” I returned my attention to Lina. “That...happened.....” I let my words trail off as I noticed her hands on my shoulders. “Like I was saying...I prefer you acting like you.”

“.....y'know, Matt,” Lina admitted, “I prefer acting like me, too.” She grinned, drawing me closer to her....

….and the door flew open again. This time, it was some guy—the one who'd walked into my room earlier, with the redhead. “....did a girl just come this way asking where the bathroom is?”

“....slim, red hair?”

“You saw her?”

I nodded. “She's in the bathroom now.”

“Right, thanks...” The guy closed the door, apparently not interested in the fact that he'd interrupted such an intimate moment between Lina and myself.

“....so, now that that's over—”

Lina gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. “I think we should save the rest for later,” she murmured. “Otherwise we'll just keep getting interrupted....unless you want to just lock your door.”

“Can't. Long story.” I sighed, remembering how the old doorknob had broken and actually locked me into my own room once, forcing my dad to bust out the sledgehammer to bash it off. “The door to my brother's room doesn't lock either, though you can blame Mom for that one...her way of settling an argument between us over taking each other's stuff. She didn't talk to us about it, or offer some other way of mediation....she just had Dad go and saw off part of the door frame so the door couldn't actually lock.”

“....that sounds kind of stupid,” Lina admitted. “I mean, Lucy doesn't have a problem with me having my own room, at her place—“

“And I wouldn't have a problem letting you have a room here, either.” I assured her. “Once the paperwork is sorted out, and all that stuff....and you're positive that she wants me to...ah, 'have' you?”

Again, Lina rested her hands on my shoulders. “I think even she'd realize that you're the best possible choice, Matt.”

“Well, I guess I can take that as good news.” I tried for a smile again—judging from Lina's reaction, I managed to actually get it right, instead of looking like I was shot up with Botox. “The weird thing is, I thought this whole party would just be friends of my brother, and friends of his friends, all that crap....”

“I think your brother works for a firm that does business with the Institute,” Lina explained, glancing at the chair by my computer desk; I nodded, and she took a seat. “Lucy didn't give me a lot of details, but she did say that she wanted to talk to him for a bit, maybe get an estimate on....something, I dunno.”

“And yet she's passed-out drunk outside.”

Lina giggled. “She might've just messed with the smartwatch to make it read that way...in any case, your brother never really went out and mingled with people apart from telling everyone not to break stuff or steal anything.”

“He doesn't really do parties this big,” I explained. “He's got his own place—a small apartment in the city—so he had to talk me into doing this one here, and I kept coming up with excuses not to, but it didn’t matter...” I shrugged. “At least he didn't go out there and act like the whole thing was my idea...” I let my words trail off. “Do you, ah....hear that?”

“....the sink still running in the bathroom?” Lina cocked her head a bit.

“Yeah. That girl turned the taps on when she went in...”

“Maybe she's washing her hands,” Lina offered.

I didn't immediately respond to her guess. Instead, I headed for the door, opening it as quietly as possible and making my way to the bathroom....the door of which was wide open. Lo and behold, the girl wasn't there, nor was the random guy who'd barged into my room looking for her. “....everything okay?” Lina was at my side in an instant.

“....they left. The girl and the guy.” I frowned. “Something's going on, here....”

“Maybe she just called him and told him she didn't feel comfortable being here anymore,” Lina mused. “Or maybe she got sick...it could've been anything.”

“....maybe.....” I turned off the taps. “...something about this....”

Lina guided me back to my room. “....whatever it is, I'm pretty sure we won't have to worry about it.”

“I'm not so sure....they were in my room earlier, before I went into the bathroom, but they walked out before I could ask what they were looking for. My phone kind of went off...that's why I had it out in the bathroom, even when I was, ah...”

“I get it.” Lina rolled her eyes. “You don't think...”

I shrugged. “Wasn't even thinking about it at the time, to be honest. I'd seen them when they first showed up, maybe said 'hi'.....after that, I was just kind of on autopilot.”

“Well, maybe...” Lina paused, frowning.

“Something wrong?”

She nodded to the window—which had been blocked off by a gray plastic cabinet meant to hold clothes. “I think you might want to break up the 'party' outside.....”

I groaned, heading for the bathroom (again). “Back in a sec!” Sure enough, some idiots had started fighting in the backyard; someone had gone to intercept the Frisbee and “accidentally” grabbed someone else's girlfriend's ass.

“Oh, GOD....this is...this is just unbelievable. There's a fight. It's ending with a fight.” I chewed my lip, shaking my head as the stupidity unfolded. “I knew...I just knew that if we had a party here, it was going to end with a fight....”

“Everything okay?” I hadn't heard Lina enter the bathroom. “I thought for a second that you'd gone outside...”

“No way in Hell am I going to try to break that up.” I nodded at the two jock-types beating the piss out of each other on the grass. “I happen to like having functional kidneys....and more are joining in.”

Lina craned her neck to get a better look, frowning. “What even happened?”

“One of the idiots went to grab the Frisbee, got a handful of ass instead.” I'd already turned away from the window.

“Did you see which girl it was?”

“....ah, the one with the white tank top, the star tattoo above her ass and the long black hair.”

Lina focused on the girl in question, standing away from the fight and looking concerned. “....I think she might be one of the eleven.”

“.....you're shitting me.”

“I'm not—also, you really need to cut back on the swearing.” Lina's eyes—now glowing a soft green—narrowed.

“And what's with the Demon Headmaster routine?”

“I'm trying to scan her, not hypnotize her.” After a few seconds of staring, Lina nodded. “Yeah, she's definitely another gynoid. Can't get a make, model or manufacturer, but she's on the WiFi now, trying to contact her owner.”

“.....so the guy she's here with isn't her owner?”

“My guess is, he borrowed her for the party....” Lina frowned. “Also, she's probably going to need a recharge soon.”

“Ah, while I'm thinking about that...how are you faring on that regard?”

Lina glanced at me, grinning. “Topped up before I left with Lucy. I won't poooooowwwwweeeeeeeeerrr......” She froze in place for a moment, and I nearly reached out to tap her shoulder to see if she was okay—all the better that I didn't, because she stuck her tongue out at me again. “Sorry, couldn't resist.”

“....I'm starting to think you've read a lot more from the forum than you let on....”

“You can't say you didn't enjoy that...” Lina smirked, allowing her gaze to wander below my belt line.

“Twice in one day is enough, I think. For now, we need to—”

Further down the hall, someone let out a battle cry and charged—not towards the bathroom, thankfully, but through the kitchen and living room. “....oh, Hell....”

“Who was that?” Lina asked, frowning.

“My brother. And I'm pretty sure he has either the tennis racket, the bat or the 9-iron....” I nearly charged out of the bathroom to go stop him, but Lina's hand on my shoulder convinced me otherwise. “Let's just wait until all of that dies down, then we can go wake Lucy up...or I can, at least.”

“....fair enough. Also...you've actually seen The Demon Headmaster?”

“ Lucy has the whole series on DVD.” Lina grinned. “She has...eclectic tastes—”

Something hit the wall under the bedroom window from outside, causing Lina to flinch and me to almost fall over ass-backwards. “The HELL?!”

“I think everyone's trying to leave at the same time...” Lina tried to get a better look—only to duck down just before that stupid Frisbee smashed into the window. “I'll go check on Lucy, make sure she's okay...”

“Good call. I'll go make sure the cat is safe—she's probably hiding under the bed, what with all the randos around...”

“You have a cat?”

“Lucy's not allergic, is she?”

“I don't think she is...” Something else hit the window. “I'll go check on her, you go check on your cat.”

“Right.” Lina and I ran out of the bathroom—Lina heading right, at the end of the hall, with me taking a left turn.

As predicted, the cat was hiding under the bed in what, years prior, had been the master bedroom. With my dad out of state and my mom...well, with her also out of the house on a permanent basis (not dead, if anyone cares), the room had yet to be fully cleaned out. Mom's books had long since been given away, and Dad had taken his essentials (CPAP gear included) with him, but the bed—or rather, beds—were still there.

The cat was, indeed, hiding under them, not so much stressed out or panicking as she was bored.

“....good call, cat,” I muttered, nodding and giving a thumbs-up to the cat.

Predictably, the cat just stared back at me, as she tended to do when she was thoroughly uninterested with things.

I headed into the living room, hoping that Lina and Lucy were okay....

...and giving a quick “yes!” as the side door opened to admit Lina back into the house. “Lucy's up, now,” she stated. “I told her about, well....” She grinned.

“I get the idea. She's okay with it?”

“She is, but there's some paperwork to fill out before it's over with—it'll probably take a few days to sort. Three, at the most....anyway, you'll only have to sign one thing. How's the cat?”

“Hiding under the bed.” I chuckled. “Her standard procedure when she gets bored, or just wants to chill out.”

“Kind of reminds me of Lucy,” Lina giggled. “Except she goes to her office instead of under the bed...” The sound of many feet rushing across the carport cut her off. “.....guess everyone's on their way out, now.”

“Hopefully before....” I groaned; my brother had managed to get in between the two meatheads who'd been fighting earlier, and was now capering around with the 9-iron like a deranged Musketeer, swiping at one of the guys. The girl Lina had identified as another gynoid was trying to talk him out of it; another girl (presumably the girlfriend of the other pissed-off jock) was carefully moving past the fracas, heading for one of the cars still parked on the grass and grabbing her boyfriend's arm. “....guess they've already had enough.”

Lina nodded. “Probably...and your brother is chasing the other one back into the yard....”

“Oh, for fuck's sake....” I nearly charged past Lina, but again, her hand on my shoulder was all the persuasion I needed to stay put. “....you, ah, might want to go join Lucy in the car,” I muttered.

“Trying to get rid of me?” Lina teased.

“Not so much that as I don't want you to get caught up in the rush of idiots peeling out in the grass...my dad would get pissed, if he was here......”

Lina gently turned me away from the door. “Just for the record....this has been awesome.”

“And it'll stay awesome once the paperwork is signed, I hope...”

Lina's smile brought back that “heart leaping into the throat” feeling again. “It will.” She leaned forward and gave me the best goodbye kiss I'd ever received in my life (and the only one that was lip-to-lip, what with the rest having been from relatives). “I'll see you again in a few days.”

“Ah....we could....maybe e-mail each other, between now and then....” I fumbled for a piece of paper and a pen.

Lina smirked, glancing at my pocket—and something in it started vibrating. “...the Hell?!”

“I left my e-mail address on your phone. Don't share it.” With one last, playful grin, she gave me a quick peck on the cheek, then turned to head out the door, giving a no-look wave as she walked away. “Bye for now!”

“....yeah....ah, bye for now!” I nodded, throwing a quick “Love you!” in at the last minute; Lina turned, acknowledging it with a smile and a mouthed “Love you, too”. I didn't watch her go up to Lucy's car, choosing instead to go fall over on the sofa, replaying the events of the past hour or so in my head. Just on a hunch, I looked at my phone—sure enough, there was Lina’s e-mail address, as well as—to my surprise—a picture of Lina in the “Photos” section, along with plenty of FCon confirmations, including some from the past few minutes...weird stuff indeed. From now on, things were going to be interesting...and I had no idea just how interesting they'd get, in the coming days.....

Part 2

To this day, I still can't believe that me not having a smartphone would've been one of the best things to ever happen in my life. The fact that the phone I got ended up landing me the girl of my dreams (in more ways than one) is even more insane....it took me a while to stop expecting that I'd wake up one morning and find that it was all just some weird-ass dream I'd been having. Thankfully, it wasn't.....anyway, where was I? Oh, right...

Lina had just left my house, and I was on the sofa, still in a blissed-out daze as to what had transpired. My brother, after chasing off the last two party-goers with a 9-iron, proceeded to utterly ignore me in favor of pacing around the living room ranting about a bunch of random topics I barely paid attention to. Eventually, he either picked up on the fact that I wasn't listening or got bored and stalked off to his makeshift room—I say “makeshift” because, ever since he got a job, he'd managed to find himself an apartment uptown and spent more of his time there, only showing up to help with the bills and make sure the lease was up-to-date.

As for me....well, after being lost in thought for about half an hour or so, I finally remembered that I did, in fact, have the rest of the day to get through. I went back to doing what I did best—working on my novel and petting the cat, once she'd finally emerged from under the bed.

Dinner, my nightly routine and sleep passed by in a sort of haze...

The next two days were pretty much uneventful. Apart from the usual calls from Mom's old “friends”, offering their blatantly-fake sympathy for her situation (their messages were deleted without a second thought) and a voice message from my brother telling me he was thinking of pursuing charges against one of the “guests” from the party (something about the use of a frisbee as a potentially dangerous weapon), there was nothing too interesting. I did have a great e-mail exchange with Lina, thankfully; according to her, Lucy had no problems with the transfer of ownership, and the paperwork was going well.

The only really weird thing that happened the first day after the party was a black van—not even a van, more like some kind of tricked-out Suburban, really—passing by on the block, doing at least three laps at various points in the day. I had no idea who the Hell would want to decorate a Suburban to look like a stealth van or something, but I didn't really pay any attention to it….

...though I'll admit, I couldn't help but shake the feeling that whoever was driving it was watching....

Anyway, Post-Party Day 1 was uneventful—oh, and I went back to the forum, of course, but...obviously, after having been with Lina, the manips and stories.....none of it really felt the same. I mean, yes, they were well-written and well-made, but knowing what I knew, that there really were androids and gynoids out in the world (or at least gynoids...though somehow, I couldn't really believe that the female of the “species” were the only ones out and about), it kind of lessened the impact of everything available for “consumption”.

So...yeah. Post-Party Day 1....not a lot to write home about.

Post-Party Day 2: the local police decided to show up, on the grounds of a well-meaning complaint from a neighbor in regards to the idiots fighting in the backyard. Thankfully, I wasn't being charged with anything—I had, after all, been otherwise engaged when the fighting had started, and hadn't attempted to actively encourage or promote the brawl, so I was in the clear. I answered a few questions, gave as good a description of the lunkheads who'd been beating the piss out of each other as I could, and generally tried my best to not give any false information.

The only noteworthy thing about that: one of the female officers noticed my phone, and gave me a bit of the old side-eye throughout the questioning. I barely thought anything about it, at the time...Hell, my initial impression was that she might've been apprasing me—as in, making sure I wasn't giving off any obvious vibes that might mean I was lying. In any case, she and the other three officers ended up with plenty of notes, and left without incident.

I did wonder, later in the day, about that one female officer...in the end, I chalked it up to wishful thinking.

Just after the cops left, Doug Kreski—a buddy of mine, who'd missed the party the day before on account of having to tend to a family issue—called me up on the landline. We'd lost touch after high school, and from what I understand, he kinda sorta maybe ended up on a downward spiral...but he'd cleaned himself up and was now dedicated to making amends and pretty much living life to the fullest (and cleanest). “MATT! How'd the party go, man?”

“Pretty well...kind of sucked without you there.”

“Eh, next time I'll show up the day before, camp out in the yard...can't miss it if I'm already there, amiright?”

I chuckled; Doug always had a knack for “out-there” ideas. “Dunno if that's how it works, but....anyway, you didn't miss much. It ended with a fight.”

“Man, your brother can't even throw a party right....anything else happen?”

“Well, I.....ah, I met someone.”

“Whoa, what?! You actually met a girl?!”

“....yeah.” I grinned. “Completely out of the blue. Her name's Lina.”

“Nice! What's she like?”

“In terms of looks, or personality?”

“....uh, both, I guess.”

“Amazing. She's blonde...a few inches shorter than me...as far as body type, she's...beautiful....” I checked my phone, scrolling through to get to the Photos folder where Lina had left her picture.

“Damn, man! Sounds like you landed a real five-star score!”

“She's not just a 'score', Doug. She's nice, polite....she even pointed out everything wrong with Fenton's ideas, but actually said there was potential if he scraped away all the crap....” I chuckled again. “Took five minutes to sum up what I've tried to say in five years.”

“She didn't meet him, did she?”

“She saw him run out with the 9-iron to break up the fight....” I rolled my eyes at the memory. “I actually just finished talking to the cops about it. Nobody's getting charged with anything, but I've got a feeling Fenton isn't going to let it go any time soon. He went on one of his rants last night....”

“Man, Fenton just needs to chill. Doesn't he have a girl of his own?”

“Last time I checked, yeah...hey, ah, I'm not doing anything else important for the rest of the day. You up for grabbing a bite up-town, catching up...all that shit?”

“Hell yeah! Everything's sorted on my end...I'll be there in five!”

“Nice...you've still got the camper van, right? Not the Probe?” Doug, for the past five years, had driven a clapped-out Ford Probe with entirely too many modifications, half of which only he knew how to fix.

“Chris wrecked the Probe two months ago, dude—wasn't really his fault, though.”

“Damn....sorry to hear that. I'll be ready in three. See you later, Doug!” I ended the call, chuckling—Chris Whitaker, Doug's “partner-in-crime” for many years, had a history of driving like a fiend at any given chance. “This should be a fun little interlude....” I glanced at the cat. “You'll be okay here on your own, right?”

The cat, being a cat, just stared at me, looking as bored as usual.

“.....I knew you'd say that.” I grinned. “Just don't claw the recliner too badly, okay?”

The cat yawned at me and curled up on her perch by the front door.

Four minutes later (Doug always has a habit of showing up early if he can help it), a camper van skidded to a stop in the drive way, followed by three honks of the horn. “YO, MATT!”

“GIMME A SECOND, DOUG!” Once my shoes were on and I'd said a quick “bye for now” to the cat (who returned the gesture by just staring at me), I was out the door, giving Dave a high-five/hug combo under the carport. “You,” I declared, “look like you've been seizing the day with a vengeance for the last five years.”

Doug laughed. “You look pretty damn good yourself, man! How's it hangin'?”

“All is well, and all things shall be well.” I gave him another high five, and we both headed back to his van. “SO, where we heading for lunch? You have any preferences, or...”

“We can just hit up a place on Fast Food Alley, man. I'm not picky.”

“Really? I thought you'd gone vegan or something.” I climbed into the passenger side of the camper van.

“I'll just get a salad or something...you can get whatever you want. I'm not a judgemental vegan.” Doug cracked up. “I swear, my girlfriend's ex-roommate, Traye...you can't even have milk, cheese, eggs or meat in the house when she's around! She, like, 'senses the aura' or some crap, and she starts freaking out and moaning, saying she can hear the Earth screaming....weirds me out every time.”

“....'hear the Earth screaming'?” It was such a weird-ass line, I couldn't help but laugh.

“Hell if I know, man....anyway, let's go! I'm starving...”

Fast Food Alley, obviously, isn't the official name of that particular street uptown, but it's the one that fits. Every single chain/franchise food place that has a presence around town has a restaurant on Fast Food Alley—at least a quarter of them are family-owned places, but the rest are all national. The drive was pretty short, maybe fifteen, twenty minutes, at the very most; we ended up settling on a family-owned burger joint, namely because the fries were great, Dave and I both had discounts there, and they didn't have one of those stupid ball pits that snakes like to hang out in.

The phone actually buzzed when one of the girls behind the counter stepped up to take our order; I couldn't help but think even here?, before Doug finished his order and I had to give mine. The girl in question looked...attractive, in a plain sort of way—maybe “plain” isn't the right word for it. She looked kind of like an actress playing someone working the counter for a TV show, or something...kind of a polished, almost “produced” look to her. Whatever the case, Dave and I got our orders down and found a place to sit.

“So,” Doug mused, “this Lina...”

“She's awesome. Read my first book—she had the same reaction as almost everyone else to the salesman...”

“I told you that one was gonna be a standout, Matt!”

“Yeah, well....she didn't complain about it...” I retrieved my phone, scrolling to the picture that Lina had included—more than likely for a situation similar to what I was in right now. “Here's a pic, if you were wondering....”

Doug glanced at the image, his eyes going wide. “Whoa.”

“I'm guessing I understated it when I said she was 'beautiful'....”

“Yeah, you understated it! She's friggin' gorgeous, man!”

“I'm sure she'd take that as high praise...in any case, she's getting some stuff sorted, and she'll be moving in with me in two days. I'll probably let her have Fenton's old room, since he's got that swank place of his own now.” I rolled my eyes at the thought. “So, ah...”

The door chime binged, and I got a nice big dose of déjà vu—the pale, slim redhead and the surfer dude from the day before walked in. Both of them seemed more interested in the girl who'd taken my order (and Doug's); the surfer dude even went so far as to ask for her specifically.

“...you know those two?” Doug asked, frowning as he moved to get a good look at the pair.

“They were at the party yesterday. Barged into my room, twice...first, when it was just starting, then later, when I was talking to Lina.” I watched the pair—they were almost quizzing the girl behind the counter, asking when her shift ended and that kind of stuff....and she obviously didn't want to talk to either of them.

“That dude looks like he's been on some downers, or something,” Doug muttered. “Like he's not all there, y'know?”

“He does look a bit...out of it, actually....” I frowned. “And the girl looks like she doesn't want to be here.”

“I'd rather eat here than at Frenchy's....” Doug cut himself off as another girl—blonde, with her hair in pigtails and looking like a a “Queen of the County Fair” type—approached, bringing our food. “Here you go! And....” She set down a glass of Sprite on the table in front of me, and a glass of water in front of Doug.

“Thanks.” I nodded—and slid my phone back to my side of the table before Doug could catch the FCon notice.

“....so, ah, this Lina...” Doug took a bite of his salad, nodding his approval. “You got, like, any plans for the future with her, or anything like that?”

“...what, you mean like marriage?”

“Well, yeah!” Doug waved his fork for emphasis—thankfully, the tomato on the end didn't fly off and hit anyone. “I mean, don't get pissed, man, but I kinda never really saw you as...I guess, the marrying type....”

“I never saw me as the marrying type either...but that was way before Lina.” I paused to take a few bites of my burger, my thoughts drifting back to how I'd told Lina that I wanted, more than anything, to be with her—and her tearful, smiling reaction to it; I nodded—both at the memory, and at how good the burger was. “I can't imagine life without her, now.”

“Man, you've got it together,” Doug stated, grinning for emphasis. “Your own place, a girlfriend....”

“'My' place,” I echoed, rolling my eyes. “My place that my folks....my dad left me, after '15....all the work put in, and all the times they said Fenton was going to get it, and he goes and gives it to me. I still remember what he said, before he drove off: 'You take care of this place, Matt. You take care of it, like we took care of you your whole life'.”

Doug nodded solemnly. “How's he doin' these days?”

“Not sitting on his ass in some lounge and getting fat on Clams Casino, that's for damn sure.” I took a pull on my Sprite before continuing: “He's out touring the country with Uncle Byron...biking—well, motorcycling, really. They said something about building a cabin up in Washington State, just getting away from it all for a few months.”

“Sounds like a plan to me. Any, ah....news, about....”

“My mom?” I was surprised at how calm I sounded.

“....we don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, man—”

“They've agreed to not call me unless her outbursts end up hurting someone.” I punctuated the statement by taking another bite of my burger and washing it down with a swig of Sprite. “The last time they called was four months ago, just when I was about to be on the news to talk about my new book. Other than that, nothing.”

“...what about the funeral?”

“What, Granddad's, in January?” I scoffed. “She got in an 'altercation' the night before...they revoked her pass.”

“Shit, man....that's....it sucks to hear that, seriously.”

“Eh, well....” I shrugged. “The same time her mental health went on the downward spiral, his physical health went that route. Everyone was surprised at how long he held out, really....”

Doug nodded. “Which one of your cousins tried to say you were a sociopath for not crying at the funeral?”

“Almost all of them from my dad's sister's family. Fenton went and told one of 'em, that one told the rest, and they all think I'm 'emotionally and psychologically unstable'.” I rolled my eyes and reached for a handful of French fries. “If they had as many negative memories of him as I did, they'd know why I didn't cry...anyway. How's everything on your end?”

“Other than my girlfriend hoping she doesn't have to go to court over the stupid lease agreement—”

“What, the one she signed with Traye?” A few fries fell out of my hand. “Her ex-roommate?”

“Traye kicked up a big stink with the homeowners' association, told 'em that Missy's behind on her payments or some lame crap like that. And Traye's brother's cousin's friend is a lawyer, apparently...” Doug threw his hands up. “Hell if I know when it's gonna get sorted—” A few notes of a punk rock song trilled from his pocket. “I bet that's her right now, man.” He sighed, checked his phone... “Damn it.”

“It's her?”

“Worse. The homeowners' association. I gotta take this, man.” Doug got up from his seat, heading for the men's room.

“I'll be here,” I called after him, getting a no-look thumbs-up in return.

Out of boredom, I decided to take a look around the other booths, see who was sitting where—surprisingly, the surfer guy and the redhead had taken a seat near the center of the restaurant. The guy, for some reason, looked like he had no idea what he wanted off the menu, and the redhead kept kicking his shin under the table, doing a pretty bad job of trying to mouth suggestions without looking conspicuous.

He must be on something a lot stronger than downers, I realized. Either that, or....

The redhead kicked the guy in the shin again—and this time, he replied by yelling “What?!” and throwing an arm out.

Now, this would've only caused something of a scene, had it not been for the fact that the same waitress who'd set the plates at the table for Doug and me was walking by, with a full tray of drinks (and cutlery), when the surfer guy swung his arm out—predictably, it caught her in the midsection, she dropped the tray (spilling the drinks in the process), and proceeded to slip on the drinks and accidentally stab herself in the side with a fork on the way down.

The redhead instantly got up from the table, without a word, and headed for the exit, looking like she was about to have a panic attack. The surfer guy, on the other hand, only barely realized that he'd incapacitated the waitress...

...and then, as I was looking from the waitress to him, he looked up at me.

Slowly, as if he'd just realized that I'd caught him in the act (whatever “the act” was), he got out of his seat at the booth, stepped on the waitress' arm (I legitimately thought he must've been on something insanely strong not to notice her) and followed the redhead out to the exit.

As soon as the door chime sounded, I was out of my chair, grabbing napkins to help wipe up the spilled drinks—and, by proxy, keep them from getting to the hole in the damaged waitress's side. Knowing what I did about Lina, I guess I wasn't as surprised that this girl was a gynoid, too. “You okay?”

“...I'm fine....” The wince on her face and in her voice told me the waitress was anything but fine.

“You've got a fork in your side. Pretty sure that's not 'fine' by any standard.”

“What...” The waitress turned, seeing the utensil embedded in her side, and groaned. “I didn't even feel it...”

“Do you want me to, ah....” Considering the implications, I grabbed another fork before making a pulling motion.

“....yeah.”

I wrapped a napkin around my hands (part of me didn't want to get a sudden shock from pulling the fork out), and I did the best I could to cleanly yank the fork out of the waitress's side—the only other customers on “my” side, or in any of the booths closest to where she'd fallen were card-carying members of the Grey Hair Brigade, so none of them saw the sparking hole or the metal underneath her uniform shirt. “....can you stand?”

“....I...think so...”

“Lemme help...” I offered my shoulder, for the waitress to put her arm around, and gently guided her to her feet.

“What's going on here?”

Normally, after hearing that question asked in such a commanding tone, my instinct is usually address the situation (and the speaker) as quickly as possible...but given the fact that I had a damaged waitress gynoid leaning on me for support, I had to take it a bit slower than usual. “The idiot sitting at this booth clocked her in the stomach, and she spilled her drinks and slipped....” I turned, slowly, doing my best to not emphasize the hole in the waitress's side. “And she, ah, accidentally stabbed herself with a fork...”

The woman who'd asked what was going on could've been in her early-to-mid 40s or late 30s, depending on hair, makeup and clothing choices—I'm pretty sure that her smile would've been a lot easier on the eyes than the suspicious stare she'd chosen to focus on me. “And the 'idiot' in question?”

“Left,” the waitress admitted. “There was a girl with him, a redhead....”

“She left first,” I chimed in. “He, ah, left after he noticed that I'd seen him...”

Someone from the other side of the restaurant called out: “I saw 'em both! They were having some kind of argument, and then the guy just swung his arm out and hit your waitress in the stomach!” I wondered, for a second, if he'd heard of the concept of the “indoor voice”.... anyway, the copper-haired 40-something woman—looking distinctly managerial in what I could only guess was a tailored jacket, blouse and fitted, knee-length skirt—nodded. “And you're sure you're not..hurt, too badly, Jess?”

“It's just a scratch, ma'am.”

“I, ah, did my best to wipe up the spilled drinks,” I added. “So, ah, nobody else would slip, or anything.”

The manager regarded me with a look—at that moment, I could tell that she knew I knew what had really happened. “I see. And you are...”

“Matt. Matt Harker.”

Another waitress showed up to help Jess, leaving the manager to talk to me. “...thank you, Mr. Harker.” She turned to walk away, but paused. “I suppose it'd be heartless of me to not show some level of gratitude for how you helped Jess, so...” She turned and handed me a folded envelope. “And I'll have you marked down for bottomless fries on the house for the rest of the year.”

“....thanks, ma'am.” I nodded, shook hands with the manager and stepped aside to let her pass before heading back to my table. The elderly patrons sitting all around gave no indication that they'd understood anything from my exchange with the manager; I had to wonder if any of them even knew that the waitresses were gynoids, or if they even knew what gynoids were.

Doug emerged from the bathroom about three minutes later, shaking his head and looking more than a bit pissed off.

“....everything okay?”

“The homeowners' association needs 'sworn testimony' about my gf making all her payments on time...” Doug half-fell into his seat, groaning. “Man, I'd sell the tires off the van just so I wouldn't have to put up with this...”

“I'm sure you'll get it sorted sooner or later.” I shrugged and took a pretty big bite out of my burger.

“I'd rather not have to sort it, man,” Doug muttered. “How do you put up with it?”

Despite the burger being mere inches from my mouth, I decided to reply. “With what?”

“Your own place, and all that...you don't seem all that stressed about being a struggling writer and having to pay bills all the damn time.”

“Aspiring writer,” I corrected, doing my best not to chuckle. “There's a big difference between 'aspiring' and 'struggling', believe me...I can't even say I'm 'aspiring' anymore, since I did get a book out—and I've got another one on the way, if all goes well.” With that, I finished off my burger and fries. “Well, I'm done—wish we'd had a chance to talk more—”

“S'not your fault, man.” Doug checked his phone again. “I gotta get back to my place anyway...work on my 'testimony'.”

“I'm sure you'll do fine. You want the salad to go, or what?”

The drive back to my place was uneventful—apart from some idiot cutting across three lanes of traffic and getting horns and middle-fingers from everyone else on the road (except Doug). I got back home in one piece, thanked Doug for the drive (we'd split the bill for the meal), and headed back inside to say hi to the cat and get on with the day.

The only other calls I got that day were from my brother—again, mostly him rambling about the idiots who'd been fighting out in the back yard, which somehow turned into a screed on “right of free passage and travel”, and then just went so far off the rails I just stopped paying attention. I actually focused more on playing with the cat than listening to the rest of the call—good on my part, since my brother had to go “do a thing” after a few minutes, and ended the call.

Yet again, I headed back to the forum....and yet again, I felt like it was kind of a letdown, after Lina. The level of creative thought and editing was there, of course, but....

I knew, or at least suspected, that if I posted on the forum about what'd happened with Lina, nobody would believe a word I wrote. Oh, they'd say it was a Hell of a story, of course, but none of them would ever take it for anything remotely resembling the truth...and in all honesty, I wouldn't blame them. There'd been some uproar over some footage from '15, back in that year, something about a courthouse, being proof of “genuine fembots”, but it had died down after the admin nuked the thread on the grounds of not wanting to get sued. I hadn't seen it, personally, but from what I heard from those who did, it was...interesting.

Anyway, apart from lunch with Doug and the thing with the waitress, the Post-Party Day 2 went on, as boring as ever....

...actually, no. Not exactly like the day before.

That black Suburban, the one doing slow laps from the day before, was back—I first noticed it making “stops” all up and down the street at around ten past one. Didn't see anything of the people driving it, but I did notice people in these weird getups exiting the vehicle, asking questions to anyone out in their yards. Once or twice, they'd knock on a door, get an answer, and either leave or commence with the quizzing.

Now, normally, I'd chalk this up to a simple door-to-door campaign, maybe an election-season thing or some kind of fund-raiser, but this...this felt different. It felt ominous.

Somehow, I couldn't shake the feeling that whoever these people were, they might be after Lina and Lucy.

By extension, that might mean they were after me.

The Suburban never stopped at my house, of course—well, didn't pull up the driveway and park, I mean. It did stop in front of the house, four hours later...midway through watching TV, I saw it just...parked there, middle of the road, for a good five minutes or so. Nobody got out, nobody approached the house....

...but I knew that someone was in that Suburban, watching me.

Needless to say, I pulled the shades down and made damn sure the doors were locked after that thing drove off.

I didn't mention the Suburban in my e-mail to Lina that evening—I didn't know if she knew about it, and I didn't want her to panic just because some randos in a Suburban decided to drive around going door-to-door. I didn't even know if they had any connection to Lina and Lucy...whatever the case, I tried not to think about it. Fed the cat, did the usual, ate dinner, went to bed...all the usual stuff.

The only weird thing about that night—the only really weird thing—was the dreams I had. A few of them were pretty interesting, and would've made for some damn good scenes for the novel....but one in particular stood out. I was in a city, somewhere—skyscrapers, dark alleys, the works—and that damn stupid black Suburban was following me. The alleyways and such became a maze, with me running through and trying to find shortcuts to figure out how to put as much distance between myself and that Suburban as I could. Even when I couldn't see it or hear it, I felt like it was following me...it was creepy as Hell, and I wasn't surprised that I woke up in a cold sweat.

Thankfully, the rest of the dreams I had that night weren't nearly as weird—and they went in the Inspiration Notebook.

Post-Party Day 3 started like the rest. Got out of bed, fed the cat, usual morning routine...nothing weird. As soon as I sat down to check my e-mail, though, I knew the day was going to get interesting. Right at the top of the inbox, I saw a new message from Lina.

Title: “Coming Over Today w/Lucy!!!!”

Basically, the e-mail itself elaborated—the paperwork had been finished, and Lucy would be showing up around lunch, probably. Lina even sent a pic of herself and Lucy to celebrate: she was wearing a pink top and white shorts, smiling and giving a sideways “peace” sign to the phone camera. As for Lucy, she looked...bored. I could guess she was around my age, just from the photo; her skin tone was half a shade darker than Lina's, and while Lina had taken her hair out of the ponytail she'd worn it in at the party, Lucy had apparently decided to put hers (dark brown, almost walnut bordering on black), up in one. Her attire suggested someone who'd done the “desk jockey” thing for a while before deciding they hated it—a dress shirt in a sort of neutral grey-blue, glasses, black pants and one earring.

I took another shower, despite having bathed already the night before (I alternate between showers and baths, given the circumstances), and did the best I could to spruce myself up before Lina and Lucy showed up—better to make a good impression on Lucy than come off looking like a total slob....

The cat, naturally, found this routine rather “blah”, and just went about her usual business.

As the clock ticked on, I started to fall into that thought trap of baseless worrying: “what if they got stuck in traffic?” “What if Lucy changed her mind?” “What if they got into a wreck?” “What if...” and so on, and so forth, and lah-dee-fuckin' dah. It's a problem I used to have a lot, before Dad left and Mom....also left; I went to counseling to get over it, and it's never been that bad since then, but I didn't want it to get that bad. Last thing I needed before Lina and Lucy showed up was to look like a babbling fool.

Thankfully, I got my shit together and calmed the Hell down. I decided against dressing full-on corporate casual, and just went with jeans, a good shirt and a quick once-over with the comb, etc.

Just to make a good impression, I ordered out for lunch—pizza, specifically, which I went for as soon as possible so it'd be done and delivered before Lina and Lucy showed up, if at all possible. Thankfully, the delivery guy showed up five minutes before 11 AM (I tend to keep a loose “schedule” in terms of stuff like lunch). I didn't start on my own slices before Lina and Lucy showed up, and pretty much just watched TV, did Internet stuff and kept an eye on the cat.

10 minutes after the pizza guy left, Lucy's car pulled up in the driveway. At least, I assumed it was Lucy's—I hadn't gone out to watch Lina leave on the day of the party, after all...

Thankfully, the first one out of the car was, in fact, Lina. She smiled and waved as she made her way to the side door; she looked as incredible as she had during the party, and just seeing her again brought back those warm, fuzzy, “heart in the throat” feelings from that day. We shared a quick hug when she got to the door...

...a moment only slightly dampened by Lucy calling out “That's him?” from the car.

“Yes,” Lina insisted. “If you hadn't been so out of it the last time we were here...”

Lucy didn't immediately reply to Lina's remarks, choosing instead to give me a glare as she made her way into the front room. She didn't acknowledge the pizza boxes on the kitchen counter, and headed for the sofa instead. “...anybody else around here?”

“Just me and the cat. My brother has a place uptown...he drops by sometimes. Pretty sure he won't be here today.”

Again, Lucy didn't immediately reply. “....you got pizza?”

“Will you stop?” Lina cut in, shaking her head. “You already said he fits the bill for the kind of person you wanted me to be with, so quit acting like he's not worth your time.”

“I never fucking said he wasn't worth my fucking time,” Lucy shot back, turning her glare on me again.

“.....I, ah, didn't know if you'd had lunch yet,” I admitted. “Also, ah...does Lina eat, or....”

“I can eat—it's not essential to my function, or anything, it just helps me blend in.” Lina shrugged. “You want a few slices, Lucy, or....”

“I'll get it myself.” Lucy grunted, pushing herself off the couch and heading for the kitchen

“....is she pissed off at me, or something?”

“She'll warm up to you soon enough.” Lina grinned. “I think she just likes seeing how people react to her, at first...don't ask me why.”

A few minutes later, after we'd all enjoyed a substantial portion of the pizza, we sat back down in the living room—me in one of the recliners, Lina by the computer and Lucy, once again, on the sofa. “You live here by yourself?” Lucy asked, sounding only slightly less pissed-off than she'd been earlier.

“Like I said, my brother drops in from time to time.”

“Parents?”

“Dad moved out of state.....” I gave a quick, humorless chuckle. “Mom got committed to a mental institution.”

Lucy didn't hesitate to follow up on that particular remark. “Why?”

“.....back in 2015, she saw....something on TV. I don't even remember what. She kicked up a big stink, called us into the front room—Dad, my brother and me—and told us we were going to uproot, leave everything behind and move to Nova Scotia to live off the land, or some weirdness like that. She was half-screaming, half-crying the whole time, going on about Satan and the powers of darkness and a war against God....said she wanted to protect us all from Hell, yadda yadda yadda.” I rolled my eyes at the memory. “Dad got up, told her she was full of shit and left in the truck. Turned out he was going to the courthouse and the church to have the marriage annulled.”

Lina looked horrified; Lucy still looked bored. “....and?”

I frowned. “Mom refused to accept the annulment, said Dad was being used by Satan to drive the family apart. Dad put a restraining order on her, she kept showing up. We'd go to holiday get-togethers—Easter, Thanksgiving, Christmas, all that stuff—at relatives' houses, Mom would show up and start ranting.” I stared at the floor, my fists clenched. “I lost a voice-acting gig because she showed up at the studio, waving a crucifix and a Bible and screaming at everybody about how 'her son was being perverted by sin', all that shit....could've made $7,000 off of that one gig, and I had to give it up. Then she chased off my brother's girlfriend, nearly ran her over with a stolen car....”

“And they put her in the padded cell after that?”

I tried to glare at Lucy, but couldn't find the anger. “...Dad, my brother and I all signed off on it. She'd stopped taking her meds for bipolar disorder in favor of spending her nights at church, praying by herself. Whatever she 'heard' on those nights, I'm pretty damn sure it wasn't the Voice of God.”

Lina moved to the other recliner, next to the one I was in. “That sounds horrible....”

I shrugged. “Everyone in the family said Mom was always a little bit off,” I admitted. “Uncle Frank was surprised it hadn't happened sooner.” I scoffed at the memory. “Last time she showed up, after she'd been committed, was when the last of our dogs had died...she showed up in the middle of the night, trying to give a funeral mass over the grave. A neighbor heard the commotion, chased her out of the yard.”

Lucy arched an eyebrow. “....and you haven't heard from her since?”

“Her, no. Her stupid, bitchy 'friends'? All the damn time. They call, trying to offer their 'sympathy', always giving their 'thoughts and prayers'....they're half the damn reason she's in the rubber room now.”

Lina put an arm around my shoulder. “I'm so sorry you had to go through all that, Matt....”

“Eh, she's in high-security now. No chance of escape, unless there's an earthquake or someone raids the place.”

“....so what about you?”

“Aspiring novelist and occasional amateur voice-actor.”

Lucy nodded. “Lina tells me you two fucked—”

“Lucy!”

“.....you two had sex in two different rooms.”

I rolled my eyes. “The bathroom and my room.” I got out of the recliner, sighing. “Follow me....”

A few seconds later, the three of us stood outside the bathroom. “She was standing here, by the towel cabinet, when I triggered Debug Mode on the phone. Asked her what she wanted—”

“I know. You did it standing, right?”

Lina groaned, but I nodded. “Sort of between the cabinet and the back wall of the tub. I asked her to turn her head around, 180 degrees....”

“...why that in particular?”

“It was the heat of the moment! I wasn't about to start reaching for panels or anything like that!” I glanced at Lucy, who was actually smirking at my indignation. “Nothing wrong with a good old twister,” she admitted, nodding. “So after you finished up in there...”

“We went back to my room.” I gestured to the door. “We talked, she went back into human mode...”

Without preamble, Lucy walked past me into my room. Lina just rolled her eyes and followed her in, with me close behind. “....a Sailor Moon figure?” Lucy muttered, picking up the item in question.

“That's S.H. Figuarts,” I shot back. “I happen to like the series.”

“I have the series,” Lucy casually replied. “Blu-ray.” She went over the rest of my collection—books, DVDs, figures, and everything in between. “You ever have anyone else in here?” she inquired. “Friends, casual acquaintances, co-workers, hookers—”

“LUCY!” Lina was obviously pissed off, but also trying her best not to giggle.

“.....Lina was my first time. And my second, obviously.” Lucy's barbs were annoying, but not enough to piss me off like all the stupid crap I'd had to put up with in high school and my first attempt at a job. “Didn't hear any complaints from her.” I glanced at Lina, who nodded.

“.....all right.” Lucy sighed. “Back to the front room.” She brushed past me without a word; I glanced at Lina, hoping for an explanation, but she just shrugged. I decided to let her leave first, following her back to the living room.

By the time we were all situated again, Lucy asked to see my phone. I handed it over, despite feeling a wave of utterly random paranoia that she'd smash the thing on the floor. “....you got this from a co-worker of your uncle,” she mused, scrolling through the apps. “Right?”

“He was trading up to a new model, I got that as a 'starter'.”

“And you never tried to use FCon before the party?”

“I thought it was a joke,” I insisted. “It had never gone off the way it had at the party...and before you ask why I was hiding in the tub, I was in the middle of doing my business—”

“Taking a shit, you mean.”

Lina buried her face in one hand, but I soldiered on anyway. “.....might as well go with that. I was....doing that—well, reading a book after finishing with...that—and the phone went off with a dozen 'confirmed' signals. Then one of them started moving towards the bathroom....”

“So you hid. In the tub.”

“Lucy...” Lina didn't look nearly as pissed off as she sounded. “I already explained all of it to you—and for the record, you're the one who never bothered to check my arousal levels between parties!”

Rather than argue with Lina, Lucy handed me back the phone. “Right. Just a few more quick questions. You get off to reading malfunction scenes before?”

“Yes.” I figured lying at this point wouldn't do me any favors.

“And would you ever intentionally damage Lina for—”

“Hell no.”

“....would you ever alter Lina's personality, erase her memories, or—”

“No.”

I got another arched eyebrow from Lucy, but rather than wait for her to ask another question, I decided to just go for the gusto. “Just because I get off to stuff from the forum, I'm not going to start trying to play that out with Lina. I told her I love her for who she is and what she is, and I'm not going to prioritize one over the other.”

After a few seconds of silence, Lucy nodded. “....didn't even let me get to the questions about girl-girl, but—”

“Lucy....” Lina was flat-out giggling now. “We've been over that before...” She glanced at me, doing her best to keep a straight face. “....if that ever came up, though....”

I held both hands up. “You really, truly want to try it, I won't stop you.”

Lucy was looking at her own phone, now. “Well, unless you've been studying method acting, you're not lying through your teeth, so....” She smirked again. “Lina, do the thing.”

“Which one—”

“You know which one.”

Lina giggled again. “Okay, okay....” She turned to glance at me, whispering “I think you're going to like this, Matt...”

Without another word, she rose from the recliner—in the stiffest, most robotic way possible.

My eyes went wide. My pulse raced. A familiar increase was making itself known below the belt line.

I watched, transfixed, as Lina took a lap around the room, walking in that perfect, staccato robotic walk I'd seen so many times before in videos...except she did it a thousand times better. She even did that thing where she'd jerk a bit after moving, like that “compliance” feature in animatronics. Every second she moved, the air around me seemed to warm up just a little bit more...I couldn't look away.

Lucy was watching, as well—probably still smirking the whole time, especially at what happened next.

After completing her circuit around the room, Lina robotically approached me. Without a word, she spun on her heel, then dropped her butt right into my lap and proceeded to give the sexiest, most robotic lap dance I'd ever seen.

Anyone taking my temperature at that point would've probably thought I'd come down with a massive fever.

I did, in fact, reach out to her a few times during her dance, but somehow, I couldn't bring myself to actually touch her at any point. Nervousness was beginning to take hold, alongside the....stirrings....and I actually glanced at Lucy at one point, unsure of what, exactly, I was supposed to do next.

To my surprise (and relief), she nodded, as if to say “go on.”

Slowly, gently, I reached out to touch one of Lina's legs...and felt something jolt through my whole body. I could feel the motors move beneath her skin...I heard the servos rizzing away with every motion.

Before I could pull my hand away, Lina grabbed it, mechanically dragging it up to her side.

My jaw went slack. Something like “uhhhgwahhhhaahhhh” left my throat. I thought the zipper on my jeans was going to explode if things didn't calm down in that particular department

Lina did a picture-perfect, fully-robotic ass shake before turning on her heel, dragging my hand along her stomach as she dropped (robotically) repeated the motion, and faced me. That calm, patient expression she'd had while in Debug Mode had returned, but now it was subtly giving way to a seductive, playful smirk—all accompanied by those delightful little servo sounds that only served to make my brain think I was in a sauna. She released my hand, allowing it (and that arm) to fall limply by my side, before robotically making her way to the center of the living room. She gave a jaunty salute (or as best she could do while moving like the sexiest animatronic I'd ever seen in my life), winked....and then proceeded to bend at the waist, her arms going limp, in the most textbook display of a “power-down” sequence I'd ever seen.

I nearly fell out of the recliner, a half-conscious “huhh-whaaahhhh” kind of laugh leaving my lips. I could tell I had a mile-wide, nearly delirious grin on my face, and couldn't have cared less. No video from the forum, or from anywhere, had come close to what I'd just borne witness to.

Lucy, now actually smiling, nodded again and snapped her fingers.

Lina straightened, her movements once again lifelike and fluid. “Well? How'd I do?”

“Huuaaahhh....” I was still in the grips of pure, unfiltered bliss from what I'd just seen.

“I think he likes it,” Lucy mused, chuckling. “Might want to give him mouth to mouth, just to be sure...”

Lina shot her a look before turning her attention back to me. “You did like my, ah, routine....right, Matt?”

“.....yes,” I managed, nodding for emphasis. “HELL yes!” My insane-looking grin remained, albeit in a manner that didn't make me look like I'd be better off running around in a purple suit and green hair. “That.....was amazing!”

“Those dancers and mimes try way too fucking hard sometimes,” Lucy drawled. “I mean, some of them are good, I'd say 9 out of 10....some of them don't give a shit, or they lose the rhythm halfway through....” She shrugged. “Figured it'd be nice to see how an actual gynoid could pull that kind of thing off, for a change.”

I glanced at her, then at Lina. “....I'd say.....you did one Hell of a job.”

Lina's smile warmed my heart (and, rather surprisingly, helped to quell the swell below). “I'll take that as good news.”

“As much as I hate being the moment-killer,” Lucy cut in, “you still have to sign a thing...”

“Right, right....” I nodded. “Think you could, ah...” I continued nodding as Lina let me exit the recliner. “That was just...I mean, wow.”

“And she didn't even take your pants off,” Lucy chuckled; Lina stuck her tongue at her. “Just give him the form...”

A tablet PC with the “Paperwork” on it was presented to me, complete with a stylus to actually sign my name. “Easier to carry around than a bunch of loose sheets,” Lucy explained, noticing my hesitation. “And I figured you'd want a pen instead of trying to write with just your finger....”

“Right, right...” I read over the text, making sure there wasn't any “fine print” or anything dodgy like that. With Lina looking on, and Lucy feigning impatience, I signed. “....done.” I handed the tablet back to Lucy, who nodded. “A few things, before I leave. You can tell your dad and anyone else who asks that you've met someone—do not tell them anything further. I'll drop off some repair supplies tomorrow, and all of her documentation. She doesn't come with a remote, and she doesn't need one, either.”

“'She' is standing right here,” Lina reminded her, planting her hands on her hips. “And perfectly capable of hearing you.”

“....in case you couldn't tell already,” Lucy continued, “she has no problems with sarcasm, irony, hyperbole, metaphor or any of that shit. She won't take things literally, she won't misinterpret a request or command and break something, and that extends to you..” She chuckled. “And she doesn't have any wiring or coding errors that'll cause her to strangle you during sex....of course, if you're into that—”

“Lucy...” Lina gave her a warning glare.

“....it's a fucking joke, seriously....anyway.” Lucy nodded. “You need any extra tech support, you call me. You two tie the knot, you let her pick the rings, the venue and the band for the reception...might as well let her handle catering, while you're at it.” She checked her phone again, going over something and muttering to herself; after a few minutes of this, she nodded again. “Lina, you know the rules about open-panel selfies...I see any on Instagram, I'll be here with the screwdrivers in thirty minutes—and you don't encourage her.”

Lina rolled her eyes; I settled for nodding again. “Wouldn't dream of it.”

“Glad to hear it. And if things get too fucked up and you can't fix her yourself...y'know what, I'll just send the address to my place straight to your phone. I always get bored just rattling it off.” She held out her phone, pointing it at mine; as it had when Lina sent me her e-mail address, the phone vibrated—this time, in my hand. “Just bring her to my place, and I'll get her back up and running in no time.”

“Got it. Anything else we need to know?”

“....yeah.” Lucy sat down on the couch, prompting Lina and me to take our seats again. “The guy you got that phone from worked at the Institute, like I do now....key word there, worked. Past tense.”

“....he also worked with my uncle Frank, three months ago,” I mused. “Also past-tense. Haven't seen him in ages.”

“Well, you might want to hope it stays that way. He got in with a weird crowd before he went missing...anyone calls you up, asks if you have his phone, tell 'em to fuck off unless they have proof. Actually, even if they have proof, tell 'em to fuck off.”

“....and why should I tell them to fuck off if they don't have any proof of ownership over the phone?”

Lucy scowled. “Take a wild fucking guess.”

Lina gave her a look. “Lucy....”

Her admonishing talk did little to derail Lucy's mindset. “Those other eleven gynoids at the party? Name anyone else you know who would've had that phone, and wouldn't have called all eleven of 'em into one room for a nice big gynoid orgy.” She rolled her eyes. “...anyway, that phone should've been recalled and wiped before you got it...but seeing as how you didn't go off and have a fembot fuckfest—”

“Lucy!”

This time, Lina did get Lucy to knock it off. “All right, all right...anyway, never let that phone out of your sight.”

“Wouldn't dream of it. And if I need to put Lina into Debug Mode?”

“That's what FCon is for.” Lucy groaned. “I'm not saying you can't use the phone ever again...just be careful with it.”

“Got it....” I glanced at Lina, frowning thoughtfully.

“You've got that look on your face,” Lucy mused. “That 'I have a crapton of questions to ask' look...I see it way too often at the Institute, usually from people who got sloshed instead of studying.”

Lina giggled. “You're one to talk about getting sloshed, after the party...”

“ANYway.” I propped my chin up on one hand. “....I do have a lot of questions.”

“Well, make 'em quick. I need to get back to the campus before 1, otherwise I'll be knee-deep in the shit.”

I nodded. “For starters....the hair.” I reached over, taking a strand of Lina's hair in my hands and letting it fall through my fingers. “Does it need to get cut? Is it just a swapable hair piece, like a wig?”

“Swappable hairpieces, for the time being. I couldn't get the resin-emulsion sub-dermal capillaries to work right....”

Noticing my somewhat glazed-over look, she groaned. “She can't grow her own hair yet.”

“....fair enough.” I nodded. “What about strength, speed, etc....”

“She won't accidentally flatten the cat by petting it or anything like that. Hard-coded limiters.” Lucy smirked. “Even if some rando douchebag hacked her and ordered her to kill you, she'd go into a failsafe loop and shut down, rather than break your neck.”

“....glad to hear it.”

“Nobody's going to try to hack me,” Lina assured me, leaning over to give me a quick hug. “Even if they had another copy of FCon, they wouldn't have my AAP—Administrative Access Permission....I kinda sorta gave you that when I was on the phone in the bathroom, trying to call out to a shop.”

“...you gave me access permission,” I echoed.

“Well, it all worked out in the end, didn't it?”

“...yeah....but how—”

“She could fucking tell your fucking phone had the fucking app on it, so she fucking let you fucking put her in fuckin' Debug Mode,” Lucy snapped, earning an annoyed glare from Lina. “Anyway....”

“What do I do about charging her?”

Lucy glanced at Lina, who prodded at her exposed navel—pushing it all the way in, then drawing her finger (and the “flesh” of her belly button) out to reveal a port. “Her cord's in the car,” Lucy explained. “Don't plug her into a power strip to recharge, it might cause a brownout in your house. Use a wall outlet, or if you've got a generator, you can hook her up directly to that—and obviously, if there's a storm going outside...” Lina covered her charging port again.

“I get it.” I nodded.

“She can bathe herself,” Lucy continued, guessing my next question. “Internal waterproofing is graded for showers, baths, ponds, lakes, swimming pools and even deep-diving up to 100 feet. Anything past that, put her in a wetsuit and a full-face mask. No idea if she can survive crush depth in the ocean, because I haven't run any tests for that yet.”

“Got it.”

“Heat...she'll withstand a sauna, hot cars and an attic in the California summer. Pretty sure she can't tank a direct hit from a flamethrower or any crazy shit like that, but she'll probably last long enough to pull you out of a burning house...I don't recommend testing that theory, by the way.”

“...I'll keep that in mind.”

“Heavy lifting....she can move appliances around without any problems, but only for short periods of time. You ask her to hold the washing machine over her head, it'll drain her a lot faster than normal day-to-day stuff. Like I said, she's got built-in limiters, so she won't go around accidentally breaking shit all the fucking time.”

“Good to know.”

Lucy kept on talking, as if I hadn't spoken up. “She can eat full meals, and snacks, but she has her limits. Don't try any of that 'eat a full pizza in one sitting' shit, or any 'restaurant challenges', otherwise she'll get backed up.”

“...and what happens if she, ah, gets 'backed up'?”

“You call me, I show up here with the proper equipment and I flush out her systems.” Lucy was giving me a Stony Stare that wasn't quite at the “Of Death” level, but was at least incredibly annoyed.

“Got it....” I glanced at Lina. “All this talk doesn't...upset you, or anything, does it?”

Lina shrugged. “I don't have a problem with it, as long as neither of you start calling me 'it' instead of 'she' and 'her'.”

Lucy checked her phone again. “As far as operational capacity goes, it can run for up to—”

Lina threw the Kleenex box at her. “What did I just say?!”

“....just wanted to make sure everyone was paying attention...” Lucy smirked. “...anyway. Back to dietary bullshit. I highly recommend against bringing her to all-you-can-eat buffets, especially shabu-shabu. She has her limits, and I don't want to have to drive out here four times a week just to clean out her internals because you decided to have her try some bullshit ghost pepper wing challenge.”

“Got it....can she actually eat those without problems?”

“Haven't tried it, wouldn't recommend it.” Lucy scrolled down on the phone. “Sex....as long as you don't try anything that risks compromising her structural integrity....or yours....” She smirked. “...you should be fine on that regard.”

“I'll, ah...keep that in mind.”

“One more thing.” Lucy put the phone away, her stare locked onto me. “I already said you can tell your relatives, friends, all that shit about who Lina is, but not what she is. That goes double for randos and triple for 'the forum'. There are a lot of fuckheads out there who'd pay top dollar for 'something' like her...or they'd pay top dollar for some other fuckheads to just go out and steal her.”

“Don't advertise.” I nodded. “Got it.”

“We'll be fine, Lucy,” Lina insisted. “I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself.” She grinned.

“....yeah, well, I just don't want to see you stripped for parts or any shit like that.” Lucy left the sofa again, stowing the phone and tucking the tablet with the form under one arm. “Also, you two split the chore duties 50/50. She's not your maid, you're not the butler, got it?”

“You can still get me a maid outfit if you want,” Lina whispered, giggling.

Lucy tried for another frown, but ended up just smirking instead. “I have a feeling that you two will have a great thing going, and I'm just doing everything I can to make sure you don't fuck it up. I didn't put months of effort into writing, designing and building her just to dump her off on some rando who'd use her up and throw her out—”

“Which I won't.”

I don't know what it was about how I said those words, but Lucy actually smiled again. “You've got a good head on your shoulders, your heart's in the right place, and you're not thinking with your dick—”

“Lucy....”

“I'm just fucking with him, Lina...it doesn't take a genius to figure out that the two of you belong together. “ Lucy nodded, turning towards the door. “I'll go get the charging cord and a few other basics, and then I'll be on my way, so you two lovebirds do whatever you want to do.”

“Ah, before you go....I was just wondering.”

Lucy groaned. “If it's about positions—”

“More like papers. Social Security card, birth certificate, driver's license, proof of insurance...all that stuff.” I glanced at Lina. “Does she have all of that in order, or....”

Lucy regarded me with a frown. “You really think I'd design, program and build a sentient gynoid without giving her the proper papers?”

“....well, I, ah.....” I shrugged. “None of the stories on the forum ever really bring that aspect of it up!”

Again, Lucy groaned, striding over to the sofa and flopping down. “Yes, she has all of her papers in order,” she stated, her face half-buried in a cushion. “She's on file and all that....has a license, she's passed her driver's test, and she can probably help you with the bills and all that stuff, too.”

“....and if I was to, say, transfer the lease on the house to Lina and myself, instead of just me?”

“Who's the co-owner?” Lucy had re-positioned herself to where she was actually sitting on the sofa properly.

“My dad.”

“Your brother's not on it?”

“He lost out on that when he got his own place uptown...he thinks he's still on the lease, for some reason or another.”

“Well, you can put Lina on it in his place, then.” Lucy checked her phone, scrolling few a few screens. “Every possible paper she'd need is in order, and I've got all the necessities in a lockbox in the car....” She chuckled. “To be honest, I'm actually glad you're getting into all of the details here...most of the guys Lina's met at parties before are less focused on her financial situation and more on her—”

“Don't,” Lina warned, looking equally pissed-off and amused.

“...you don't even fucking know what I'm about to say.....” Lucy rolled her eyes. “Anyway. While I'm thinking about it, don't let her go apply for fifty credit cards or any shit like that. I'm still working on getting all of her paperwork into the system—for instance, if you let her get a job or something—but if anyone decides to do a little digging, they'll look...off.”

“Right.”

“So, unless you've got any other massive, boring-ass questions to ask me, I need to get back to the Institute and spend the rest of the day doing boring, important shit that I swear I've told half my colleagues how to do whenever I'm not around...seriously, is it in one ear and out the other with those people, or fucking what, I never know....” Lucy shook her head. “Anyway. I'll get the paperwork and the cord, and you two try not to fuck each other bow-legged while I'm out—”

“LUCY!” Lina gave Lucy a half-hearted shove, trying not to giggle too much.

“We'll do our best.” I managed to keep a straight face. “And, ah....thanks, Lucy. For all of this.”

“Eh, it's nothing....common courtesy, all that shit.” Lucy shrugged. “Lina....you know the drill. You two need anything, you call me, okay?”

Lina nodded. “We will.”

Lucy headed back to her car, leaving Lina and I to contemplate our future together. “....so, this is it, then?” I asked, surprised at how calm I sounded. “We're....together, now?”

“Pretty much,” Lina beamed. “I'm yours—”

I held up a hand. “....this thing about 'ownership'.....I've never been a fan of it. I'm with you because I want to be with you, and I'm really hoping that you're with me not just because of the 'transfer of ownership', but because you want to be with me....”

Lina didn't hesitate. “I do.”

That was all I needed to hear. “....then that's all there is to it.” I smiled, Lina smiled, we leaned closer....

“Could you two not even wait until I leave?” Lucy complained. “Seriously, let me fucking drive out of here before you get your freak on...”

“Lucy!” Lina was full-on giggling. “We were just having a moment...”

“Well, keep your moment until I get out of the fucking driveway...” Lucy handed me the charging cord and the lockbox, doing a pretty damn good job of not smiling. “If I have to explain which end of the cord goes where—”

“You don't.”

“.....well, just to be sure....” Lucy nodded at Lina. “You know the drill.”

Lina rolled her eyes, but nodded and pulled up her top to expose her navel; all the while, Lucy was unspooling the cord, nodding to me. “Find an outlet, plug it in, all that good stuff....”

“Right, right.” I found an outlet behind the sofa that wasn't being used, and plugged it in.

“And the other end goes....here....” Lucy inserted the other end into the port formerly covered by Lina's navel—which caused Lina to instantly stiffen, her eyes taking on a soft blue glow. “Charging mode initiated.”

“....eyes front, cowboy.” Lucy smirked. 'Like I said, wait until I get out of the driveway....”

“I know.” I watched as the glow in Lina's eyes pulsed, apparently in time with the charging cycle. “...can she...hear us, and all that?”

“Say something stupid and see.” I didn't even have to look at Lucy to tell she was grinning like a fiend.

“....yeah, I don't think I'm gonna try that....”

I felt Lucy's hand on my shoulder. “I also suggest you not try any other....extracurricular activities while she's charging, since it might royally fuck up her systems....pretty sure you're not gonna want that to happen.”

“I won't. Believe me I won't.”

“Charging complete.” The end of the cable popped out of the port in Lina's navel, with her hand going up almost instantly to recover the port. Her eyes were back to normal, without the glow, and she glanced my way with a playful grin. “So....you like?”

“I like.” I nodded. “Lucy.....thanks for everything.”

“Not a problem.” Lucy actually shook my hand. “Just remember all the important shit, and you'll be good to go.” A bit of the smile managed to break through her scowling. “Lina....stay safe.”

“Pretty sure I won't have any problems in that regard.” Lina grinned at me, then at Lucy—that smile of hers damn near lit up the room.

“Good. Well, I'm out of here...tight schedule, shit to do...” I could tell that, despite her laying on the sarcasm, Lucy was more than happy for Lina, and she'd at least come around to accepting that Lina and I did indeed belong together. “You need anything else before I come back with the gear, call me...” She glanced at me over her shoulder, giving me one last fake-pissed off look. “Got it?”

“Got it.” I nodded. “And thanks.”

“....ehhh.” Lucy waved it off, but it didn't take a body language analyst to tell this was the kind of outcome she'd been hoping for with Lina all along. We both waved goodbye, which she reciprocated by flashing the peace sign before getting back in her car.

“Well,” I mused, my arms around Lina's waist, “it looks like this is the start of something awesome for the two of us.”

“Not just awesome,” Lina murmured. “Something epic.” She gave me a quick peck on the cheek. “Your brother won't mind if I, ah...”

“He barely does anything with the room anyway. I'll call him tonight, explain things—well, enough for him to not have to ask any questions—and tell him he can come by and pick up his shi......his stuff tomorrow.” I returned the favor for the quick kiss with one of my own. “After that—” The phone rang, prompting a groan from me, but Lina turned my head to focus on her. “It can wait,” she whispered. “I want you to plug me in again.”

I glanced at the cable—still plugged into the wall outlet. “....right. You want to open the port, or....”

Lina's glance downward, and that gorgeous smile—was all the hint I needed. Slowly, I pressed inwards with my finger, and the plug of artificial flesh popped out. Lina's eyes closed, and she drew in a sharp breath.

“.....are you sure you want to—”

“Yeah.” She nodded, grinning. “It didn't hurt, or anything...I just...I can't describe how it feels.”

I plugged in the cord—instantly, she stiffened again. “Charging Mode active.”

“....can you hear me?”

“Yes.” Slowly, robotically, she turned to regard me. “Would. You. Like. To. Do. More?”

My eyes went wide, as did the expected appendage below the belt. “.....I, ah....”

Even as her eyes glowed, a smile slowly spread across Lina's lips. “You. Can. Unplug. Me. Now....”

I took the plug out, slowly—and Lina's arms were instantly around my shoulders. “As fun as that was,” she whispered, “I think we can have a lot of fun with it later....I'm sure we can find something more important to do now.”

Which, of course, we did.

---

Back to the story archive