After The Makeover, Part IV
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Rachel and Dr. Dyson lay sprawled together on the stylish leather couch in Dr. Dyson's office. Both women were completely naked, and their abdominal panels were open to reveal the intricate collection of circuitry, wiring, and other robotic components within their synthetic bodies. Dr. Dyson held Rachel close, gently stroking her soft, fair hair.
"That was absolutely incredible, RX3598," Dr. Dyson sighed. "You are a fantastic lover. I can barely believe you've only ever made love with a few women."
"Never, before I became an android," Rachel said. She smiled demurely. "I just... do what I'm programmed to."
"I'm sure you've picked up a few tricks on your own by now," Dr. Dyson smiled. "But your programming is truly exquisite. We really did a good job with you."
"I'd love to show you how good," Rachel said, turning her head slightly and kissing Dr. Dyson. Dr. Dyson reluctantly broke away from the kiss. "Another time, perhaps," she said. "I'm scheduled for my regular maintenance session in a few minutes." She regarded Rachel. "Would you like to accompany me?"
"Oh, yes," Rachel breathed. "I'd love seeing you being disassembled and serviced by other sexy androids... it'd be so erotic." Indeed, Rachel became aware of a slight increase in the arousal data traversing her circuitry. She thought about what Dr. Dyson had said... how much of what she now thought, what she now felt was 'her'--her personality, the consciousness that had once inhabited her organic body--and how much was software, preprogrammed responses. Was there a difference any more? She began to collect her clothes, which lie scattered on and around Dr. Dyson's desk.
"That won't be necessary," Dr. Dyson said. "I have a direct connection from this office to the maintenance and manufacturing facilities. We won't need to go through the public areas." The doctor did, however, pause at her desk; taking a tissue from a drawer, she cleaned the remnants of lovemaking from her face and from the more intimate regions of her body. Once Rachel had done likewise, Dr. Dyson walked toward what appeared to be a blank wall. She cocked her head slightly and suddenly, and a section of the wall receded a few inches before sliding to one side with a soft hiss. "One of my more recent upgrades includes a wireless network link to the Institute's central computer net," Dr. Dyson said, noticing Rachel's slight puzzlement. "It allows me to access the databanks and gives me limited remote command over certain systems. I can even read my e-mail through the link," she smiled.
"How often are you upgraded?" Rachel wondered, following the doctor into a gleaming white corridor. Dr. Dyson strode purposefully down the passageway. "Quite often," she admitted. "It's something of an indulgence to me. I think it's important that my body and my systems remain on the cutting edge. However, I generally do not have new components installed until they've been fully tested and verified. I don't mean to sound too self-important, but I'm too critical to Institute operations to risk untried technology. I need to remain functional as much as possible, in order to oversee what goes on here." She inclined her head slightly as they approached a door labeled Maintenance Section--Authorized Personnel Only. Again, the door slid open upon her silent command. "Of course, we can't be too careful. As with so many aspects of the Institute, we have contingencies in place for that. In the event that I should prove... unavailable... the units on our senior staff would be quite competent to continue operations until I can be restored to working order. Even worst-case scenarios are planned for... one of my unique design elements is an internal 'black box' backup device, which would allow my consciousness to be transferred into a completely new artificial body almost immediately."
"That's incredible," Rachel said.
"I must admit, I really do enjoy my maintenance and upgrade schedule," Dr. Dyson said. "Few units receive the levels of servicing and maintenance that I do. I actually prefer to perform a lot of day-to-day diagnostics and minor maintenance tasks myself, when possible. Nonetheless, the regular sessions are very important; there are some things I simply can't do myself, and of course my own personal diagnostics must be double-checked from time to time."
The two beautiful, naked android women continued down a long corridor. Rachel was familiar with this area of the institute, of course, having just been here mere hours ago. They passed the doors leading into the main maintenance area and a variety of small testing chambers, component workshops, and parts storage areas. They were soon moving beyond the section with which Rachel was acquainted. Rachel glanced at Dr. Dyson's lovely naked form. She considered her own experience with being serviced by the Institute's female android technicians. "When you say you enjoy maintenance and upgrades," she asked, "do you mean... you enjoy them?" She placed a careful emphasis on the word.
"Yes," Dr. Dyson said with a knowing smile. "I find being serviced to be enormously erotic. It's fairly common, I'm told." She shook her head at the thought. "I am, frankly, quite aroused even now--just anticipating the session. In fact, my system has often been known to record several orgasms during a typical maintenance session. Even though my motor functions are offline while in maintenance mode, my sexual systems generally remain active. It's all part of the immense enjoyment and satisfaction I find in being a machine."
"I... enjoyed being repaired today, too," Rachel said. "I didn't come, but it was... so hot to be partially disassembled, with beautiful androids working on my robotic body."
"I understand completely," Dr. Dyson said. "Unfortunately, since it was your sex hardware that was undergoing repair, it meant your sexual response systems were disengaged. But I'm sure you might find your next service session much more fulfilling." She laughed softly. "I hope that I was able to help make up for what you missed out on."
"Mmmmmm.... oh, definitely," Rachel laughed too.
Dr. Dyson came to a stop before another sealed door at the far end of the maintenance section. It was simply marked Private. As with the other doors, this one hissed open at Dr. Dyson's wordless command. The tall, sexy scientist stepped gracefully through the door, Rachel close behind her. The door led into an airlock; there was a brief pause and a sigh of air pressure equalizing before the inner door opened to admit them to the chamber beyond.
Rachel gazed about in wonderment. The room was much like a miniature version of the main maintenance floor, with a couch in the center. The couch was surrounded by tool benches arrayed with precision electronic instruments, and a rack of highly-sophisticated diagnostic computer equipment. Off to one side were a series of observation suites, with large windows looking in on the central bay. Several engineers had gathered in the suites, ready to observe the procedure and take notes. Other technicians--the members of the maintenance team--milled about the bay, readying tools and studying schematics and performance data.
What caught Rachel's fancy the most, however, was a series of shelves and racks that lined one wall of the bay. Many of these racks held small, unidentifiable electronic and mechanical components. But the most amazing (and arousing) lay further down the wall: a series of racks supporting numerous duplicate body parts--all clearly parts belonging to Dr. Dyson. Rachel's mouth opened slightly at the sight. Long, shapely legs... smooth-skinned arms with lovely, graceful hands... full, rounded breasts... even several pelvic modules, some facing forward to display neatly-trimmed strips of pubic hair while others were turned around to reveal beautifully-curved bottoms. Across the top row of shelves were displayed five precise duplicates of Dr. Dyson's head--on each one, the glamorous features frozen, the eyes closed. The sight of so many beautiful female body parts was indescribably erotic... especially as each one formed part of Dr. Dyson's lovely body (a fact Rachel could attest to, having just spent several hours becoming intimately familiar with that wonderfully sexy female form).
"I've reserved observation room C for you to use, Rachel," Dr. Dyson said, nodding toward an empty cubicle. "Make yourself comfortable... I think they're ready for me now."
Rachel nodded and smiled, still a little dazzled by the spectacle all around her. She proceeded to the cubicle and settled in to a comfortable sofa, ready to watch what was sure to be a fascinating sight.
"Good afternoon, Dr. Dyson," the lead technician smiled. She was a tall, statuesque brunette with stylishly-cut chin-length hair. "Everything's ready... we can begin at any time."
"Thank you, Unit CX7231," Dr. Dyson said. She lifted herself onto the maintenance couch and lay back. "Entering maintenance mode."
The seam around Dr. Dyson's abdominal panel became visible, and a technician lifted the panel away and set it on a nearby tray. Another technician began to connect an array of cables to various ports and terminals within the doctor's open interface.
"Connections are solid. Data transfer rates optimal," a pretty blonde technician said.
"Initiate diagnostic routines," CX7231 said, turning to study a large flat-screen monitor. The blonde typed a series of codes into a keyboard. "Initiating."
A dizzying array of alphanumeric characters cascaded down the monitor screen. CX7231 studied the readout with deep concentration as other technicians looked on.
"Her systems are functioning correctly," CX7231 said. "No major faults. I see some warning messages relating to system resource allocation during sexual activity, though..." she turned to an auburn-haired android who stood by with a PDA, taking notes. "Log that for further investigation." "Of course," the assistant said.
"Unit CX7049, please display Dr. Dyson's maintenance log on the screen."
The blonde nodded and typed in a new command. A window opened on the screen, within which new columns of data appeared.
CX7231 scanned the log window. "Her current arm and leg modules were installed six months ago," she said. "They're nearing the end of their rated service lifetimes."
The blonde technician looked up at the monitor. "Dr. Dyson's self-diagnostic logs show no indications of impaired function in those modules, and the current diagnostics verify those findings." CX7231 considered. "We'll replace them now. There could be material fatigue or other factors that the diagnostics won't find." As she spoke, a pair of technicians moved to the storage racks and selected new limbs, transferring them to a preparation table.
CX7049 stepped closer to the monitor, indicating several lines of code with her PDA stylus. "I'm showing several other components due for routine swap-out," she said, and entered data on the PDA. "Secondary coolant pump... backup power cell assembly... torso/pelvic data interlink junction... operating memory module 'C'... optic sensor preprocessor unit."
CX7231 nodded. "Flag them for replacement as well," she said.
"On the other hand, I'm not finding any pelvic module hydraulics issues," CX7049 said. "The new design seems to be holding up well."
"Agreed," the tall brunette said. "I think that covers most of the necessary physical maintenance operations. Unit CX7311, what about software issues?"
The blonde at the diagnostics console typed another series of commands. She studied a smaller secondary monitor. "No system errors recorded, apart from the resource warnings you noted. No daemon aberrations recorded. File system is nominal. We'll want to run routine defrag and purge temp data, but otherwise we'll just need to install the latest updates."
"Very well," CX7231 said. "Then let's get started."
At the lead technician's order, the other androids sprang into action. While the component prep teams continued to ready replacement parts for installation, other technicians moved in and began to work on Dr. Dyson's body. The doctor's limbs were carefully detached, and several access panels--including her faceplate--were removed and set aside. In minutes, what had been a beautiful and largely human-looking woman was reduced to a collection of scattered body parts and exposed mechanisms.
From the observation room, Rachel watched with rapt attention. She could scarcely believe the intricate process going on before her eyes. There was a strange beauty to the scene she witnessed--the systematic revelation of the lovely Dr. Dyson as a highly-complex and carefully-designed machine. Rachel felt an incredibly powerful surge of arousal at the sight. The beautiful technicians moved about with remarkable speed and precision, displaying the robotic efficiency their otherwise-human appearance belied. Complex electronic and mechanical components were carefully disconnected and removed from the circuit bays and machinery spaces within Dr. Dyson's largely-dismantled body.
Rachel's hands moved to her own beautiful, naked body of their own volition. Certainly Rachel was aware of her actions, but she was not wholly certain whether those actions were an instinctive response to her growing excitement or the preprogrammed result of her extensive sexual response subroutines. She ultimately did not care--and indeed, something about the uncertainty aroused her further.
The observation room was tolerably private; the large window, she found, could be adjusted for one-way viewing. Rachel touched a small control by the window, and was rewarded with a small indicator which lit up to tell her that the window was indeed opaque from without.
Rachel lay back on the comfortable sofa, letting her hands roam freely again as she watched Dr. Dyson being serviced. She caressed her breasts, giving her now-erect nipples lavish attention. Her right hand began to slowly move down her torso as the left continued to tease and fondle her breasts. The right hand swiftly found its destination between her thighs, rubbing slowly back and forth across the smooth surface of her sex. Rachel stared, utterly transfixed, at the array of machinery that was Dr. Dyson. The movements of her hands grew faster and more ardent as she watched a technician connect a complex electronic component to the maze of circuitry and wiring within the doctor's faceless head. Another technician carefully lifted away the smooth flesh of Dr. Dyson's chest--including her marvelous artificial breasts--and placed to one side. Rachel watched the tech gently insert a tool into the exposed thoracic cavity and begin working. This was, to Rachel, incredibly sexy; on one level, there was nothing even remotely erotic about the scene, not any more than it would be sexually provocative to see a mechanic tuning up an automobile engine. But there was also the fact that the machine now being worked on was a beautiful, intelligent woman... a woman with whom Rachel had been making passionate love not even an hour ago. A machine very like Rachel herself.
I was being serviced and repaired like that a few hours ago, Rachel thought. She drew her middle finger upwards along the sticky, wet cleft of her womanhood to stop on her engorged clitoris. She began to rub the sensitive synthetic organ in a circular pattern, ever faster. The pleasure was marvelous. She brought her left hand down between her parted legs, and daintily slipped a finger between her dripping lower lips. Dr. Dyson is so sexy... so beautiful. A beautiful machine. Just like me. Rachel cried out, issuing inarticulate noises of pure delight at the command of her sexual response software. In the maintenance bay, she saw a technician working on something in Dr. Dyson's paplexus interface, between her well-trimmed strip of pubic hair and the seperation line of her detached pelvic module. Something about that sight triggered a random recollection, something Dr. Dyson had told her a short time ago... "...my system has often been known to record several orgasms during a typical maintenance session."
Rachel, pleasuring herself furiously, wondered if Dr. Dyson's advanced systems were running an orgasm sequence right now.
That was all it took. Rachel cried out as her circuitry all but literally exploded with pleasure, scarcely noticing the status message before her eyes which told her blandly (and needlessly) that she was herself executing a simulated electronic orgasm. Her back arched, her face contorted as the exquisite piece of software ran its course... and finally, after what seemed like endless ecstacy, she collapsed back onto the couch. A soft moan escaped her lips. The lovely android smiled and looked back to the maintenance chamber, watching the team of technicians working with endless dedication and efficiency on another suberbly sexy woman-machine...
To Be Continued...
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