5.83 - Familiar Territory

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The speeder cruised through the desert landscape at a breakneck speed. Each time a jolt of pain stabbed through my chest, my vision would blur, and my steering was once again disrupted. Had Jenn still been with me, I could have had her take the wheel, but I no longer had that luxury. I took some comfort in the fact that I had long since abandoned the road, so my near-constant weaving hardly mattered, but the uneven terrain only served to aggravate my condition.

How much lead time did I have on the pursuing units? They weren't the best trackers in the world, but they seemed to be getting better, even the newly infected ones. They weren't just learning individually. They were learning as a single entity.

I caught my reflection in the mirror, and realized how haggard I had become over the past few days. My curly, dark red hair was now oily and matted, and beads of sweat from the pain stood out on my forehead. Since leaving Jenn behind, I had lost sleep, barely eaten, and grown increasingly paranoid. She had been only a simple ARA when I found her, but I had customized her extensively over our time together. I couldn't help but feel a sense of loss. Even if I found another one of her, it would take me weeks to replicate all the customized settings and enhancements I had made to her. So much wok, down the drain.

Another lightning bolt of agony shot across my chest, and I found myself no longer looking through a forewindow at the dimly-lit terrain ahead, but instead looking at faint, indistinct blobs. I tried to look. At the speeder's display instruments, but they too had transformed into indistinguishable squiggles. My brain told my foot to move off the accelerator, and eventually, it did - although the act of lifting it created more aftershocks of pain. Finally, my body gave out and I slumped to one side as the world faded to blackness.

I drifted back to months earlier, reliving the crystal-clear memory of finding the other copy of the book. After finding the reference to uncle James' supposedly destroyed wonderproduct in some of dad's files, I was able to piece together how he had acquired it, and what he had intended to do with it. The records were sketchy, though: It was apparent that it hadn't been shipped directly to the facility, and some of the records indicated that it had been transferred to the research division for prepping instead of the normal testing division.

The memos said this was due to the unique nature and role of the unit, but I thought it was more likely that Freida had begged to have a chance to look it over. She had spent months requisitioning ARAs with more and more powerful processor systems, but kept rejecting them as inadequate to whatever project she had been working on. I had a freight bill showing that the XR9660F had been shipped from headquarters, so it definitely wasn't there anymore, but its destination had merely been a ScenariCorp shipping hub. If it had still been in the hub when dad ceased operations, it would have been sold off in the liquidation.

If not, though, it should have been delivered to its originally intended destination - But if I was going to make any headway searching through a facility that size, I would need documentation, and that meant returning to ScenariCorp.

Abandoned for years, ScenariCorp HQ had served as a constant monument to dad's almost single-minded efforts to find mom, wherever she was. He tapped all his resources, spent every penny, then sold off all his assets and spent all of those. Eight months after my sixth birthday, ScenariCorp announced that it would be scaling back to a tenth of its operations. Dad had all but disappeared, taking his control of the company with him. He became a recluse, obsessing on every potential clue.

He sold the headquarters building to a business real estate firm, but they found themselves unable to unload it, mostly because their asking price had been astronomically high, even for the property. The firm later had some legal issues, and ownership of the building passed into limbo. It had become a run-down ruin.

At his funeral last year, I didn't cry. I gave a simple eulogy to the tiny group of remaining acquaintances. "Kirk Peters didn't die last week. He died fifteen years ago. His ghost is what we bury today." I had been functionally orphaned the day of mom's disappearance, my former life of luxury long gone. For a time, I had even lived as a squatter in the very headquarters my father had formerly owned.

I had brought Ella and Jenn along as my search brought me back to the dilapidated ruins of ScenariCorp. Although the state of emergency hadn't yet been called on the city, the building and surrounding area had been evacuated. Even though there probably wasn't a single functioning ARA in the building, people still remembered just how many there had been all those years ago. No one really knew what Lovebug was, but they knew enough to avoid potentially homicidal ARAs.

The documentation library had been ransacked over the years, and minor flooding had filled the room with a moldy smell that was difficult to tolerate for long. Not burdened by the limits of human respiration, Ella and Jenn were able to search the room more efficiently than I could.

At one point, the library would have held more than a dozen copies of each facility's handbook, but the combination of theft, vandalism, and natural damage had made intact copies scarce. We finally found only a single copy of the Nevada facility's book, just before a coughing fit forced me to exit the room. I had expected Jenn and Ella to follow behind me, but was surprised midway down the hallway to find myself alone. Heading back to the library, I found the two of them gradually stripping and fondling each other - they must have switched over to one of my custom idling scripts, probably the "my muscles are so stiff, could you give me a nice rubdown" one.

The mold nearly triggered another coughing fit as I ordered them to come with me. Much of their clothes had been dropped carelessly into a pool thick with mold and sludge, so I had them follow dressed as they were. They obeyed without complaint, both topless, and Ella missing her shorts. I would have to find clothes for them before I traveled through any populated areas.

As we headed to the exit, my cough lingered, culminating in a fit that nearly made me pass out. At last, something - hopefully non-vital - dislodged in my throat, and I found myself able to breathe easy again. I decided to rest a while before continuing onward, and entered the nearest room to find a spot to sit or lie down. If all else failed, I could have the girls lie side by side, and use them as a bed. I'd had to resort to that before, and found them surprisingly comfortable, if a tad lumpy.

I found myself in the Research division lab - Freida Meyer's former haunt. Doctor Meyer had always seemed odd, even when I was a kid. It wasn't until years after mom's disappearance that I realized how much of her behavior was a coping mechanism for her illness. I briefly wondered where she was today, but pushed the idea away at the realization that her condition would have certainly killed her by now.

Oddly, the lab was relatively tidy, compared to the rest of the building. Not everything was upright, and most anything of use or value had been plundered, but I could tell the lab hadn't seen nearly as much vagrant traffic as the rest of the place. Even when I had squatted here as a teenager, people had avoided this area, but I never really noticed it as a pattern.

Looking around the room, I suddenly saw the reason: On one prominent wall. Freida's showcase had been wrenched open. Its shelves had been completely stripped bare, except for one item: The sample ARA cranial unit, used for demonstrating the mechanical latching system, its face a tarnished chrome skull with a death's head grin. I wondered why no one had bothered to simply move the damn thing, and learned the answer as soon as I tried: It wouldn't budge. It was permanently mounted on the shelf.

That didn't make sense. Cranial units were hardly rare, by any means, but this one was a piece of ARA engineering history. I couldn't count the number of times Doctor Meyer had described it as the key to proper ARA development... and then I realized what a fucking moron I'd been.

Okay, so I knew why it was still here, but the question was, how did I make it work? I experimentally squeezed the cheekbones, but to no effect. I checked its cartridge drive, but it was empty. I ejected the eyes, but they were non-functional display units. The data port behind was just a hole drilled into the metal. This head had never been attached to an ARA. It was just the mechanical parts of the skull. So how would she trigger it?

As I thought about this, I turned to notice Ella had playfully borrowed Jenn's shorts, and was now discussing the matter of trading panties. I was amused, and if I hadn't been in the middle of something important, probably would have joined in, but I needed to keep focused. I should probably just shut them down for a while, I thought, pulling my activation tool from my jacket.

At the sound of my command to stand still, they immediately stopped their idling seduction program, and stood at attention. I approached Jenn, running my hand up her chest, then gently grasped her chin and turned her head to one side. She smiled sweetly and blinked as I brushed her hair off her ear, and positioned the tool to shut her off...

And I stopped. Could that be it? I looked at the tool, then back to the display. It was just a non-functioning mechanical prototype, so no one would have ever bothered trying to turn it on.

When I actually tried it, nothing initially seemed to happen... but then the entire shelf display started moving up with a slow rumble. I quickly grabbed my tool out of the display unit's ear, not wanting to lose it.

The shelf unit rose, revealing a neat, tidy lab, almost as large as the outer lab, its lights flickering on as the display slid aside. I stepped in, curious as to what Dr. Meyer had been up to here. Her research in the outer lab had been essentially unrestricted, so why would she need a hidden lab?

Remembering their earlier behavior at the library, I called for the girls to join me. They had once again begun one of their randomly-selected entertainment programs. I was going to have to shut those programs when we were doing anything important, or at least increase their timeout windows. I had only claimed Ella the previous month, so I hadn't gotten around to tweaking most of her settings yet, but I had picked up Jenn more than a year ago. Of course, Lovebug hadn't become a problem until pretty recently, but I still should have been more responsible with my possessions.

Although not devastated or looted, the hidden lab had little of immediately obvious value. Scanning the room, I found printed binders, but the ones I flipped through consisted almost entirely of psychological reports on ScenariCorp employees. There was obviously experimental equipment all around, but little of it was recognizable to me, and none of it was portable. On one wall hung an old-fashioned dry-erase board. It had been erased, but heavy use had rendered some of its writing still legible. I could just make out the phrases "MK2 Prototype" and "dramatically increased scan resolution." Below this had been written "NOT ENOUGH PROC. POWR?" in block lettering, and it appeared the the question mark had been circled.

In one corner of the room, a workstation vidscreen faintly glowed. I set down the facility handbook and approached the workstation. It was still logged in. The screen displayed the words "Vivacitus Proj.", along with a handful of faces and names. I scrolled through the list. Many of them were crossed out with the word "Unsuitable" next to them, but partway down, two names were highlighted and labeled as "Test Candidates": Freida Meyer and Kaitlyn Frasier. Scrolling down further, I came to a section titled "For further review," with three names. Seeing these, I froze.

Jane Peters. Kirk Peters. Kyle Parson.

Selecting each record individually gave me no more useful information. They referenced "records stored in data module gamma," but upon inspection of the nearby archive cabinet, modules delta through theta were missing.

Throughout my inspection of the console, I had assumed that the whirring noise behind me had simply been some diagnostic equipment automatically powering up along with the lights. Similarly, I had ignored Jenn's statements about "it looks so big," and Ella's inquiry asking if she could "play with the tip," assuming that they were merely caught in another idle cycle. Then another voice cut in.

"Hi there, innnnntruder!" It was a cheerful female voice. I knew that voice. It was Dr. Meyer's voice. I spun around to find Ella, now completely nude, bending to examine the business end of an automated energy weapon turret of some kind. Before I could react, it blasted off most of her head. She made little surprised motions with her hand, and distorted voice samples spewed randomly from her sound system. Her mostly decapitated body stood, put its hands on its hips in a huffing motion, shrugged, turned, and took three seductive steps before freezing and falling, statue like, landing flat on its back.

"Droppppp your weapons, please-lease-lease-lease," the security voice stated happily as the turret spun to aim at a random spot. Before any hypothetical intruder would have had a chance to react, it blasted twice, then spun, blasting a third time while in motion. I was frozen in panic as it demanded that a shelf full of binders disarm itself (zap), requested that a microcircuit manipulator cease all hostile actions (zap), and finally ordered the facility handbook to remain motionless. Despite obeying the command, the book was blasted into charred ashes, and the whole purpose behind this exercise was gone, literally in a puff of smoke.

I snapped into action, bolting for the entrance and ordering Jenn along with me. It had been a stupid excursion, a pointless deviation from plans after I had secured the book. I had lost the very thing I came here for, as well as my most recent ARA acquisition, and for what? Vague notes about a 15-year old project that had probably been abandoned anyway. Frustrated at my own stupidity, I ran to the exit, Jenn close by my side...

An instant later, nearly an hour had passed. The speeder had apparently decelerated quickly after I had taken my foot off the pedal, and I had managed not to crash into anything. This was bad. If I didn't get immediate medical attention, I was a goner. I had thought getting the book from Bosch would be one of the hardest parts of this ordeal, but it had been comparatively easy. I hadn't even had to use my contingency plan - a fact for which I was grateful. I wasn't sure I would have had the nerve to actually shoot him, no matter how much his secretary's disassembly had distracted him.

I shook my head, trying to clear it, and the pain once again shot through my side. Groaning in agony, I looked out the side window, momentarily wondering why the sky was so grey... then I realized what I was really looking at. It was the side of a massive dome: A ScenariCorp facility dome. If I hadn't passed out, I probably would have driven past it in my bleary-eyed state.

I grabbed the handbook and made sure I had memorized the entrance code. Staggering to the dome, leaning against it for support, I traced the perimeter of the immense structure. Eventually, I came to the employee entrance, and used the code to unlock the door. Stepping through, I could see only darkness at first, but the system soon detected my presence, and the automated lighting system gradually turned the dark interior of the dome's surface into a starry sky. By default, the system would be synced to the outside time, but fortunately every ScenariCorp night was bright enough to see by.

My vision blurred and swam as I lurched through the pathways, trying to find my way to the medical building. I'd had plenty of time to memorize the layout back at Bosch's university, but hadn't counted on coming in through the side entrance. Even once I got my bearings, the pain was unbearable. a cold sweat covered my face, and I wasn't sure whether the shadows I was seeing were actual shadows, or just parts of my vision blacking out.

I continued to stagger, nearly blind and in agony, through the silent facility, across open areas turfed with realistic grass, concrete sidewalks, and even cobbled pathways, until finally I made out the unmistakable icon ScenariCorp had always used for medical buildings: A simple red heart with a cartoonish bandage. I breathed a sigh of relief...

And collapsed, mere feet away from the door. Groaning, I half-limped, half crawled to the simple door, jabbing blindly at the entry button. On the third attempt, the acknowledgement chime sounded, and the door slid aside, allowing my entrance.

Tears streaming down my face, I dragged myself down the corridor into the dark, silent building. Even a few feet in, I could see lights turning on in response to my presence, and could hear the background bustle of hospital staff starting to drift through the air. By the time I reached the lobby proper, I could hear voices - hopefully hospital staff, and not delirium.

"Help!" I screamed, my voice rasping in the effort. "Somebody help me!" I called in desperation.

A vaguely female shape approached and resolved itself into a cute redhead. She leaned in close, a worried expression on her face. He mouth was almost puckered, as if she were on the verge of kissing me at any moment.

"Goodness!" She said, comically putting her hands to her face. "What's the matter, sir?"

"Mr. Peters sent me," I choked, priming her code entry mode. I struggled to remember the medical emergency keyphrase. "I beseech you, pray aid a fallen traveller," I managed.

Her eyes went wide, and the bustle of activity immediately fell silent, as a half-dozen more nurses rushed to my assistance. Some of them fell to their knees, crawling towards me and brushing their hands gently against my face, while others merely bent to study me in adoration.

"Oh my, sir, let us help you," the redhead said, kneeling next to me, giving me a clear view up her skirt. "My name is Ashley, I'm the head nurse here," she said, emphasizing the word "head."

"I'm Derek," I said, clutching my hand to my side as another stab of pain shot through me. "This is pretty serious," I told her, "are you a doctor?"

Her face became apologetic. "I'm sorry, sir, I'm just a pre-med student. All the senior medical personnel are on temporary leave."

"Yeah," I said, "they would be, wouldn't they." I grimaced.

"Oh, don't worry," she bubbled, smiling, "I'll do anything I can to make you feel better."

"Ashley, listen closely," I said through gritted teeth, "I've got appendicitis. I need immediate surgery. Can you handle that?"

She wore her apologetic look again. "I'm not really qualified for that kind of thing, sir," she said as two of the other nurses began stroking my legs. "I'll need to get approval from one of the senior medical personnel." She pit a finger to her chin, remembering. "All the senior medical personnel are on temporary leave," she repeated, dreamily.

I groaned, at least as much in annoyance as it was in physical pain. I shooed away some of the nurses flocked around my arm, and hauled the book in front of my face, flipping through the admin code glossary.

Medical approvals: See Approvals, medical. Of course. I flipped back to the earlier section, squinting at the tiny print. At least my vision was starting to clear up, now that I was lying down. "Nurse Ashley," I began, "you've demonstrated exemplary skills in this field. Scrub up and prep the patient in operating room number..." I held the book closer, barely able to read the numeric code denoting an appendectomy. "...room number 72630594-8221602-95B."

Ashley froze, staring off into space. "Yes, Doctor UndefinedName." She tilted her head, blinking. "I understand. Appendectomy procedure authorized." She looked back down at me. "It's a good thing we were able to get a hold of Doctor Undefined name. He or she is normally very busy, but he or she was able to authorize your procedure." She looked around at the gaggle of nurses grouped around me. "Alright ladies," she said, nodding, "this is an emergency procedure, so there's no time for distractions. You two," she said, pointing at the two nurses who were trying to feel my penis through my trousers, "go prep operating room 1. The rest of you, help me get him ready for surgery."

What followed was a blur of activity. I had already known how skilled these girls would be at undressing both themselves and any willing participants, but was started by how quickly they managed to get me stripped and into a surgical gown - Either that, or I had passed out once or twice without noticing. Still, given direct, overriding commands, even sex model ARAs could be efficient at well-defined tasks.

Not waiting for a gurney, they gently lifted me up, using their arms forklift-style, and carried me smoothly to the operating room. Their motions were synchronized to keep me perfectly level at all times, and it almost seemed like I was floating, like a cloud. A gurney ride would probably have been bumpier. I drifted down the hall to the operating room, and was laid down on the surprisingly plush, reclining OR table there.

At some point during my preparations, Ashley had slipped off, presumably to wash and change. Sure enough, as the girls comprising my makeshift gurney separated and stepped away, I could see Ashley in the corner, scrubbing up. She had changed out of her normal nurse's uniform, and was now wearing a simple surgical smock. She would have looked quite professional, if it hadn't been backless, and if she hadn't been wearing heels, stockings, and see-thru lace panties.

She turned and strutted towards me, showing off the neckline of the smock, cut low enough to show the top edges of her areolae. Reaching me, she ran her hands along the edge of the table's cushioning, and leaned down to give me a better view. "Is there anything I can do to make you more... comfortable?" She asked, playing with a lock of her hair.

Good lord, they must not have had a chance to fully setup her emergency protocols, I thought. My appendix was about to burst - possibly already had - and she was offering me sex? I winced, the pain once again pushing me to the edge of unconsciousness. "Look," I said, "this just isn't the time for that kind of thing." I sucked air through my teeth. "I need anaesthesia."

Her expression instantly became serious. "Yes, sir," she said, nodding. She extracted a respirator mask from under the table, and turned a valve. There was a tiny hiss for less than a second, then nothing. She frowned and attempted to turn the valve again, but the indicator on the mask told me everything I didn't want to know: The gas canisters had depleted. Most likely, the only canister had been the stock one included with the apparatus itself: more comprehensive medical supplies often weren't delivered to dad's facility attractions until the first week of business. Safety-wise, it had never been an issue.

"I'm sorry sir," she apologized, "our supply of general anaesthesia has run out." She looked at me sympathetically. "We must have had a lot of patients recently." Or been shut down, abandoned for fifteen years, I thought.

"Tyrphinol," I grunted. "Local injection." Hopefully there was some kind of exception programmed into her, allowing for a backup anaesthetic in cases like this - or maybe she hadn't yet been programmed to prevent narcotics abuse.

Without question, she retrieved one of the perma-stor capsules from the nearby refrigeration unit, slotting it into the injection gun. She held the gun against my skin, and gave me three quick injections in a precise triangle around what would doubtless be the incision site. It stung briefly, then felt an odd warmth in the area, and the pain dramatically subsided. I could still tell it was there, enough for it to be unpleasant, but it was tolerable. I silently thanked dad for switching to the synthetic morphine derivative: Had that been traditional anaesthetic, it would have long since expired. This synthetic variety only had an optimal shelf-life of about ten years, but a diminished effect would be better than none. With any luck, it would knock me out before too long.

I was starting to feel woozy again, and found myself unable to look away as Ashley picked up the scalpel and brought it close to the area she had injected around. I had no desire to watch the procedure, but felt an almost morbid compulsion to do so as the blade dug into my skin and...

"Aughhhh!" I howled in pain. Anesthetized or not, I could definitely feel the incision. "Stop!"

Ashley paused, uncertain. "Sir, this procedure must be completed as soon as possible."

"I know!" I shouted. I took a few deep breaths, calming myself. "I know," I said, quietly. "Look, it's just... I can't tell which is worse," I said, "the pain of the infesshun, or the pain of you shlicing into me!" I could hear the slur creeping into my voice. Was the Tyrphinol having an effect already? Shouldn't I be falling asleep by this point?

One of the nurses/makeshift gurney units at my left, a blonde whose namebadge identified her as Nikki, suddenly turned and stared at Ashey, still hesitating after my outburst from the first incision. Glancing down at Ashley's hands, a strange expression crossed Nikki's face, and her arms fell to her sides. She stood there, motionless for no more than a second, then lunged, vaulting over the table, and landing a kick squarely in Ashley's chest. She landed lightly on her feet as Ashley staggered backwards. I was terrified that the attack would result in Ashley slicing wildly with the scalpel, but was relieved to see that she had immediately pulled back as soon as the attack began.

"I cannot allow you to harm this man," Nikki calmly insisted, no trace of malice in her voice. "Your actions are endangering his life. Since you are not human, I am authorized to disable and destroy you, if necessary." No, not now! The surgery had already begun, if Ashley didn't work fast, I would bleed to death! Nikki grabbed Ashely's arm holding the scalpel. "Please discontinue your unsafe actions."

Ashley didn't struggle at first, looking blankly at Nikki. She then looked beyond her to me, and the blood slowly pooling around my side. She turned back to Nikki. "I cannot allow you to harm this man. Your actions are endangering his life," she said, exactly echoing the words Nikki had just spoken. "Since you are not human, I am authorized to disable and destroy you, if necessary." Gripping Nikki's arm with her free hand, Ashley planted her heeled foot on the blonde girl's side and shoved.

There was a tearing, breaking sound, followed by electrical sparking as Nikki's right arm was torn from her shoulder, the body-side connection point still attached. Thin wires dangled loosely from the severed limb that Ashley now held, and a bright flash and popping sound came from Nikki's ruined shoulder.

I couldn't believe it. They had only installed Nikki's basic first aid perceptual overrides, and not emergency medical assistance! If she had ever been present with a human surgeon, who knows what would have happened. Presumably, Nikki hadn't been intended for surgical assistance, so they may not have seen a need for it. I felt lightheaded, the Tyrphinol now clearly affecting me. I tried to reach to cover the wound, but was unable to move my arm with any coordination.

I stared, transfixed by the two visions of beauty, Ashley and Nikki, both fighting with everything they had to protect me from each other. They had amazing bodies, long legs, and wasn't I supposed to be in pain? Maybe I didn't need surgery after all. I could just lie back and watch the sexy ladies wrestle. Oops, there goes Nikki's leg. Pity. I liked that leg. I hoped the one with the knifey thing... whatsitcalled... wasn't doing any permanent damage to the other. What were their names again? Wow, the table really was comfortable. So soft and relaxing. It felt like I was just sort of sinking into it, like I was floating down through the table and floor, down into the sky...

I must have flipped around. Sky isn't down. Not unless you're on the other side of the planet, but then it isn't down anymore. Antipodes. That's what they're called. Opposite points on a globe. The sky was beautiful, but it was very distracting. I could barely focus on my lecture with that skylight in the ceiling. Oh, no, wait, there isn't a skylight in the ceiling. It's just a blue ceiling. I should get back to teaching my class.

I looked back down to face the class of students - all female - attending my lecture on the thingamajig implications on whatever in a somethingorother society. High level stuff, and they were sitting on the edge of their seats. Had I called roll? It didn't look like there were any empty chairs. They all looked so expectant, so interested in everything I had to say. Especially the blonde in the short skirt up front. And the blonde in the short skirt next to her. And the other blonde in the short skirt behind her.

I cleared my throat, trying to remember my train of thought. "And so, that brings us to the natural conclusion, which is...? Anyone?"

One of the front-row blondes raised her hand. I hadn't noticed her change her clothes, but somehow she was wearing an evening gown now, with a long slit all the way up to above her waist. I tried to remember her name, but couldn't think of one. Oh well, it didn't matter. I could call her whatever. "Yes, miss Whatever?" That's right, her name was Whatever. Something Whatever.

She smiled, delighted that I'd remembered her name. "I'm sorry to interrupt your lecture, Mister Master, but I was wondering if you'd mind... could I suck your cock for a while? Just until you cum on my face?" Something squirmed in her seat and absently stroked a hand up the side of her leg, the slit spreading wider to show the tops of her stockings and her absence of panties.

It was a big request, but since it was blowjob day, I didn't really mind. Provided she had been studying. "Miss Whatever, I would be happy to fuck your mouth, but before I do... are you on the honor roll?"

She furrowed her brow. "I don't know." She blinked. "I don't know," she repeated, her voice echoing flatly. Her head turned left and right, then backwards, then around in a circle. "I don't know I don't know I don't know..." she repeated, her voice now sounding like a tinny recording. I heard a metallic crumpling noise as the back of her head crumpled inwards, turning her head into a thin, rigid mask attached to her neck. "I don't know," she said again, her voice now small and distant.

I approached her, disappointed. I had hoped she was a special student, but she was of no use to me. I pulled her skirt aside to check her body out. Her legs reflexively parted, showing me her smooth, wet pussy. I stuck my finger in its warm wetness, then pulled it out. The colorful juices dripped from my finger. I licked them experimentally. Sweet peaches. Not my favorite flavor. She was useless junk to me.

I stood her up as she continued to repeat "I don't know" over and over, her voice now crackling with static. The dress was nice, so I didn't want to waste it. Unzipping it, I let it fall to the floor, then studied her body. Nice tits. I bounced one experimentally, then squeezed it hard. Firm, but pliable. I considered fucking her, but no. She was just junk right now. I spread her legs slightly, then stuck my fingers in her ass and pussy, and gripped her by the neck with the other hand. She weighed less than a pound, so I was able to easily lift her up like this. I carried her nude form over my head, her legs and arms still rigidly in position, and brought her to the trash can. Bringing my hands together, I wadded up her body into a ball of soft, metal material.

Before wadding up her legs, I reconsidered, then decided to save the shoes. Setting them aside, I continued crumpling up the piece of scrap, and tossed it aside. Something Whatever's faint voice trailed off into nothingness.

I turned back to the class, all of them still smiling pleasantly. So good to have nice, attentive students who listened well, and loved showing off their sexy bodies for me. Dusting my hands, I said, "Now then, where were we?"

A blonde in the front row raised her hand. How had she managed to slip into a maid's uniform? "Professor Owner, I was wondering if you would mind helping me out with something," she said, hesitantly.

"Certainly Miss..." I struggled to remember her name. "Object," I remembered. "What's on your mind Miss Object?"

She tilted her head sideways. "On my mind?" she said, blinking in confusion. "Let me check." She reached up to her head with both hands and lifted the top of her scalp off, setting it aside on her desk. She reached into the interior of her head as if looking for something, her face scrunched up in concentration. Finally, she gave up. "Nope, sorry. Haven't got one, see?" She looked down, showing me the polished chrome of the empty recess inside her head.

I sighed, weary, but I had to double check to make sure. "What did you need help with?" I said.

"Well," she said, shifting in her seat, "It's my pussy, you see." She lifted one leg straight in the air, spreading the other out wide, and pulled up her skirt to reveal black lace panties. They were soaked with her juices. "Oops," she said. "I don't know why I bother wearing these."

Rather than lower her leg, she simply snipped her fingers like scissors on the waistband at each hip, neatly cutting the pointless underwear off. "As you can see," she continued, runnning one hand along her stockinged leg, "There's nothing being rammed into me."

I pondered this. "Tell you what," I said, indicating the lengthy, complex equation on the board, "If you can solve this, I'll fuck you. Just a little."

She clapped her hands, giddy. The class applauded in response. Lowering her leg, she strode to the whiteboard, still holding her skirt up.

Midway to the board, her left leg crumpled in on itself, and she fell to the floor. She struggled to stand again with her ass sticking straight up into the air, apparently oblivious to the collapsed, hollow structure of her leg. Finally, she managed to get up on the other leg, and hopped a few paces.

"You'd probably have an easier time without the dress," I said.

She smacked her forehead, and her empty head rang like a bell. "Oh yeah, duh." Grabbing the hem of the maid uniform, she pulled the garment up and over her head, tossing it aside without a care. After dusting herself down, she continued hopping, causing her breasts to bounce attractively.

Reaching the board, she picked up one of the markers and leaned in to start writing. "Stop," I told her. I had to check her work first. Reaching between her legs, I felt the soaking wetness of her juices, fingering her cunt for good measure. I licked my finger. Strawberry. Good, but not what I was looking for. I spanked her ass and watched it jiggle for a moment. "Go ahead," I said.

She studied the problem for a few minutes, then seemed to arrive at a conclusion. "Well," she said, "if we're assuming this, then it must be..." she trailed off. Her arm moved to write something, then paused, then started again. She nodded, this time more certain. "Yes, I'm sure that's it," she said, and attempted to write her answer.

The moment the marker came in contact with the board, her arm collapsed inward, the emptyness of her interior no longer able to support its form. Unable to notice this, she instead scrutinized the problem some more. "Hmm..." she repeated. "Of course, over here we have... and this will... but if I..." Smoke began to pour out of the hole at the top of her head. "My tit cuntfuck ass cocksuck whore I fuck slut..." she babbled, her head collapsing into a flat shape.

The collapse didn't stop with her empty head. Her whole body began to flatten and curl, like thin, delicate foil. She fell backwards to the floor, a perfectly flat outline of a nude woman. The marker rolled away uselessly, and she continued trying to talk out the problem. "Master fuck submit obey lick property pussy owner..." her flat voice echoed.

I sighed. Another piece of junk. This one was even emptier than the other one. I rolled her up, then wadded the roll into a tiny ball, tossing it in the trash. This was a waste of my time. I was getting nowhere fast.

I turned back to the class full of blondes, noticing for the first time the fact that they had no eyes, no mouths, no features other than a circle of numbers with two arrows pointing outwards. They almost looked like clock faces. In fact, I was starting to suspect that they were clock faces.

"Tick tock," they said in unison. The faces all read 11:59. No! I was running out of time, and I hadn't found a single student who could pass the class! I looked around, trying to determine how much time it would take to check them all, but I couldn't count them. The room began to stretch off further than I ever realized, miles into the distance. I couldn't even tell where the walls were. How many students were there, anyway? Hundreds? Thousands? Millions? Did they ever stop?

"Fuck my titties," begged a clock-faced blonde in the front row, tearing open her shirt and cupping her breasts.

"No, master, fuck my ass," another cried, bending over her desk and flipping up her short skirt.

A trio of blonde clocks tore off each other's clothes, crying "Do all three of us at once! Cum all over our bodies!" In moments, they were nude, their lithe bodies somehow oiled up, slick and shiny. They began to rub against each other, squishing their breasts together and grinding on one another's body.

"Own me!" a crowd demanded.

"Possess me!" another group pleaded.

"Command us all!" an infinite chorus of voices called.

My eyes darted around the room. Was she the one? No, wait, she wasn't real, she was just a cardboard cutout. Her voice was a speaker attached on the back. What about that one? That was a mannequin, poorly assembled and barely lifelike at all. Its wig fell off and its limbs fell apart as soon as I glanced at it. That one was a sex doll. That one was a clay sculpture. Those over there were just painted on the walls.

Fights began to break out among them. The empty shells shaped like girls began hitting each other, denting heads and torsos with the slightest impact. Some would grab and try to tear another shell, unwittingly tearing their own limbs in the process. When they fell, they collapsed like deflated baloons. Was there a single one of them who was actually capable of solving the problem? Were they all just worthless junk? Had I wasted my time? "Tick tock," they cried in chorus, their voices slowing and dropping in pitch, "Tick... tock... tiiiiick... tooooooock..."

I curled up, clutching my head in panic. It was too late. It would be midnight any moment now. As if the thought summoned the event, I heard one last tick, then stillness. I looked up. An vast sea of uncountable clock faces stared motionless back at me, each of them showing 12:00. Above each clock face was a small hammer held between two large bells. In slow motion, I saw an infinite number of hammers swing pendulously between the two bells, striking them in what should have been rapid succession. The beeping of the bells was deafening. Wait, that wasn't right. Bells don't beep.

The light faded to blackness, the floor fell away. I found myself floating in an empty void. Where was I? Hadn't I just been somewhere else a moment ago? Or was that a long time ago? I found myself struggling to understand time. Which way did it go? How fast? Somewhere in this line of thinking, I lost track of who I was. There was a beeping sound. It repeated over and over, echoing in the nothingness I occupied. It was constant, neither soothing nor discordant, merely there. Over and over again.

The blackness gradually brightened. I was lying down somewhere. It was soft. My side hurt. Beep, beep, beep. I could hear voices, people talking, walking around, the unmistakable click-click-click of stiletto heels on hard floors. It reminded me of sexy, beautiful women, the ones who did whatever I wanted them to do. They were different from normal women in some way, if I could just remember. Beep beep beep. They would help me no matter what, which was good because I had something important to...

My eyes snapped open, and I was momentarily dazed by the brightness of the light in the hallway. The steady beeping of the heart monitor reassured me that I was, at least for now, alive and relatively safe. Tentatively, I felt at my side, and was rewarded with a sharp pain - but not nearly so sharp as when I'd arrived. I pulled aside the bedsheets and my gown to examine the wound, and was surprised to find that the incisions had been clean, precise, and expertly stitched. With a bit of dermal gel, I'd be right as rain in no time, and then I could use the book to...

The book! My head snapped around, scanning the room, and the heart monitor's tempo increased to worrying speeds. I spotted the handbook on the nightstand, and breathed a sigh of relief as the beeping dropped back down to normal.

A worried-looking Ashley came dashing into the room. "Sir, is everything alright? The heart monitor was..." she paused, her eyes wide, then she closed and covered them. "I'msosorry," she blurted. "I didn't realize you were... I'll just let you get back to your... activities." She edged slowly to the door.

What was she talking about? I then realized with a mixture of surprise and embarrassment that I still had the gown and bedsheets pulled aside, my body exposed from mid torso to upper thigh. She assumed I had been enjoying some alone time apparently, but why would that embarrass her? The medical override would have shut down any social inhibitors for the duration of the emergency, so... Oh. The emergency was over. She would have reverted to her default programming, making her flirtatious, but not an outright sex toy.

"Wait," I said, hastily covering myself again, "sorry about that, I wasn't... I was just checking my..."

She peeked through her fingers,then smiled. "Oh, it's okay. We understand the value of good sexual health, too. Besides," she said, looking down with a smile, "some girls would enjoy helping you check your... you know." She looked at me with a glimmer in her eyes. "It's a shame you won't be staying long. If I had time to get to know you, I might even enjoy that kind of thing." She fluttered her eyes at me.

I frowned. "Won't be staying long?"

She shook her head sadly. "Sorry about that, it's just..." she shrugged in a helpless gesture. "This place is private property, and very exclusive. You're free to stay as long as you need to recuperate, but once you're healed up, we'll have to send you on your way." She put a finger to her chin, and I suddenly knew exactly what was coming next. "Unless, of course, you were to enroll here, that is."

The sales pitch, of course. "You're just right for our university, you know," she continued. "And the male-to-female ratio has been completely off recently. We kind of lose track of how men think, so I know a lot of girls here would really... welcome some input."

"And I'm sure you've got some application papers to show me, don't you?" I said, wryly.

She blinked innocently. "Not at all. They're in your nightstand. There's a course catalog in there, too, if you're interested." She pointed at the vidscreen. "I think they show some campus information on the internal video network. You might want to check that out." She smiled cheerfully. "Well, if there's nothing wrong, I've got some work to get back to. Let us know if you need anything to eat or drink, okay?" She didn't wait for a response before taking off again.

It had already been a long night, but I was curious as to exactly how dad had planned on promoting the place. Opening the drawer, I found a simple brochure and a magazine-like catalog.

"Exciting Opportunities in BMOC Undergraduate and Postgraduate Programs," read the flier. It was covered in images of female students laughing, exercising, swimming, and... was that a sorority pillow fight? The pictures were captioned with phrases like "Stimulating Curriculum," "Hands-on Learning Experience," "Accommodating Staff," and "Disciplined Learning Environment." I flipped the brochure over to read the back:


Big Man On Campus Collegiate Resort

A ScenariCorp Facility

Thinking of booking a stay at this, or any of our other facilities? Contact your travel agent for pricing and details.

ScenariCorp: Anything You Can Imagine


Flipping through the "course catalog" I was surprised that it seemed to drop the pretense altogether, presenting explicit descriptions of the highly sexualized courses alongside body shots of the women who taught them.

Curious, I switched on the vidscreen, catching only a glimpse of a swirling, colorful background and two figures holding something. "...this and more," said a female voice as the image quickly faded out. Before I had a chance to wonder if I had missed it entirely, the scene faded back in, an abstract background with two young ladies standing shyly in the foreground, visible only from the waist up, each wearing a dual-colored, form-fitting dress. The girl on the left was black-haired, the other golden blonde. "Hi there!" They chorused, bright smiles on their faces.

"I'm Pria," said the raven-haired girl in the blue-and-white dress.

"And I'm Althea," said the blonde in the green-and-white dress.

The screen switched to a split-screen close up of each girl, whispering to the audience, and each pointing at the other girl. "And don't tell her," they whispered simultaneously, "but I think she might be a robot."

The camera zoomed back out, this time showing a full body view of each of the two girls. They appeared to be wearing dark leggings under their skirts, and fashionable heels. Each girl turned to the other and smiled an "I've got a secret" smile at her companion.

Pria faced the camera again. "We're here to tell you the exciting news from ScenariCorp!"

"That's right," nodded Althea. "The people who made you feel like kings and queens in The Kingdom of Insert Guest's Name Here..."

"Or lords and ladies in the aristocratic world of Bartleby Estate Manor House..." continued Pria.

"...or superheroes and villains in the comic-book realms of HeroTropolis..." said Althea

"Are ready to unveil their latest facility, sure to tickle your fancy," Pria finished.

"Here at ScenariCorp, we know the value of higher education," Althea said as the background switched to pan across multiple still images of college scenes. "But while college life offers a wealth of exciting opportunities, it can be difficult to really enjoy the whole experience without damaging your academic performance."

Pria once again took up the speech. "Some of you may have had incredible experiences in college that you'd like to relive," she said, "while others might want to see what they missed out on the first time around."

"Regardless of your original college experience," Althea picked up, "the Big Man on Campus Fantasy Collegiate Resort has everything you need to give yourself the ultimate college life,"

The two girls faded out, and the image switched to day-in-the-life shots of various college girls in an assortment of everyday activities - although their clothing may have been slightly tighter and more revealing than real college students. It was hard to tell. Pria's voice cut in with a slight echo effect. "Just imagine, three thousand beautiful ladies, including more than a hundred teachers, all at your beck and call." The camera lingered on the short skirt of a girl in a library setting as she bent to look at books on a lower shelf. "Your wildest college fantasies can be yours with the girl..."

"Or girls!" Interrupted Althea's voice.

"...of your dreams," Pria continued as the video switched to shots of girls in their dorms wearing only their pajamas or underwear. "Never worry about a bad roommate. Pick your own roommate in our spacious co-ed dorm rooms!"

"Who wants to have to worry about being late to class?" Said Althea. The image switched to that of a class of motionless students with an elegant woman standing at the head of the class, similarly frozen. She would have looked quite prim in her outfit, if the blouse hadn't been unbuttoned to just below her bra, and if her skirt hadn't been short enough to show off her garters. "In our school, class doesn't start until you arrive."

The camera moved around the room, illustrating the fact that it wasn't just a still image, then moved to a spot in the back of the room, the entrance door now visible. When the camera stopped moving, the door opened, and a male silhouette stood in the doorway. At this, the class started up instantly, the teacher moving the board to write something. "Okay class," she said, "my name is professor..." She began to speak slowly as she wrote the words out. "Marilyn... Weiss."

Dotting the "i"s in her name with little hearts, she turned to the figure in the door. "And I see we have someone new," she continued. "Come inside." She turned away to fiddle with some papers on her desk, bending over to stretch the tight skirt over her ass, and pull it up in the back. "Why don't you grab a seat?" She said, absently wiggling her ass at the indistinct male.

There was a montage of images which drifted by. "Here at the BMOC Fantasy Resort, you can enjoy lovely librarians,.." began Pria. A sexy librarian glanced back and forth furtively, then looked towards the camera over her obviously decorative reading glasses before smiling and unzipping her skirt. It fell to the floor, pooling at her feet, revealing the g-string she wore beneath.

"Charming cheerleaders..." said Althea. A trio of girls in cheerleading uniforms did a brief synchronized dance cheer, then pulled off their tops to reveal pert breasts. One girl turned away from the camera, legs apart, and bent at the waist. She began to tip forward, but the other girls came in on either side, holding her by her shoulder with one hand. With the other hand, they neatly flipped up her skirt and tugged down the uniform's tights to reveal the girl's ass and pussy. Turning to face the camera, they spanked her in unison, expressions of pure desire on their faces.

"And titillating teachers," concluded Pria.

The scene switched back to Professor Weiss, who had just finished writing the words "Sexual transitions: from girl-on-girl to threesome" on the board. Turning back to the class full of girls, she began to unbutton her silky blouse. "Okay, so we're going to start with some performance foreplay, so I'll need a volunteer..." Every hand went up. She pointed to one in the front row. "Thank you Miss Sparks, just go ahead and strip at your own pace, and I'll help you along as needed." Sensual music started up as the girl began writhing and tugging at her clothes. Now topless and also dancing, Miss Weiss turned to the camera. "We'll keep going as long as you like, sir," she said, flirtatiously pulling up her skirt. "Feel free to join in at any time."

The image once again faded back to the abstract background as Althea and Pria walked in from either side. "And of course," Althea continued, "with ScenariCorp's signature fantasy design, you'll never run out of things to do." I laughed at this. It would have been just like Dad to put that line in as a pun.

"You can help curious students explore new boundaries," Pria said.

The image faded to two girls seated on a bed, wearing short, silky pajamas. "We've both kind of had a crush on you for a while," said the one on the left, "and we know this is kind of forward to ask, but... we've never had a threesome before..."

"And we wanted to try it out," said the one on the right. "If it was okay with you."

"Please?" They said in unison.

The scene dissolved to an a photography studio with a girl in evening wear posing for a series of glamour shots. "Dabble in the arts," Althea's voice said.

The girl took a few more poses before turning to look directly at the camera. "You're doing great," a male voice said. "You want to model some other outfits?"

She smiled mischievously. "Well," she said, "I do have a swimsuit that might be fun to try on. You, know, just for a few shots, nothing too revealing."

"Absolutely," said the male voice. "You would be great for swimwear."

She smiled and began to unzip the gown-like dress. "Let me just get changed out of this first," she said peeling it down to reveal her lace bra.

"Mind if I keep taking pictures?" Said the male voice.

"Oh," she said, flattered,"that's fine, I don't mind at all. I kind of hoped you'd be up for something like that," she continued, wriggling out of the tight dress. Beneath, she wore a black thong over a matching stocking and garter set. Tossing the dress aside, she struck a pose as the camera flashed a few more times.

"You know," she said, as if an idea had just struck her, "maybe I could do some... other... kind of modeling." She looked uncertain. "Would you be disappointed if I wanted to model something other than a swimsuit?"

"No," said the male voice, "It doesn't have to be swimwear. What did you have in mind?"

She pulled at the waistband of her thong, posing as though prepared to take it off. "I could pretend to be a stripper or something like that," she said as the camera snapped a few more shots.

"Hey, that's a great idea," said the male voice. "You've definitely got the look."

The girl pulled the shoulder straps of her bra down, peeling down the garment just enough to expose her nipples. Then, after the camera flashed again, she pulled it off entirely. Leaning back against the stool behind her, she lazily traced a finger around one nipple. "I've always wanted to see what being a pornstar would be like," she said. "I mean, I've modeled swimsuits before, but I never went so far as this..." she leaned her head back and hummed, cupping her breasts with both hands.

"You want to keep going." The male stated. It didn't sound like a question.

Hooking her thumbs in the waistband, she worked her thong down her legs, and stood unembarrassed before the camera, her body now fully exposed. "What do I need to do?" She asked. "I want to do this the way real pornstars do. What's the first step to being a professional pornstar?"

Back to the abstract background, splitscreen again, as the image showed Pria and Althea whispering once again to the audience and pointing at one another. "And every girl is a sex-capable ARA just like her over there!" They whispered in perfect unison. "Just look at what I can get her to do!"

"Hey, Althea, I was just wondering..." Pria began, "How would you like to help me show them the kind of things that go on at the BMOC Resort?"

"Hmm," said Althea, feigning surprise, "what a coincidence, I was just about to ask you the exact same thing!" She winked knowingly at the camera. "Tell you what, why don't you start by showing the viewers your tits?"

"Just that?" Pria asked, pulling the neckline of the stretchy fabric down to reveal her bikini-top bra. "I think they need a much more direct example," she said, unhooking the front of the bra to reveal her gravity-defying breasts. "Althea, show them your ass."

Althea giggled, then spun on one foot, ballerina like. Her skirt swung tantalisingly outward and she stopped, facing away from the camera. Looking over her shoulder, she flipped the fabric of the skirt up to expose her backside, covered only by a pair of sheer red panties. "Like this?" She said innocently.

Pria laughed dismissively. "You can do better than that," she said.

Althea pouted. "Aww, I don't know how," she said. She smiled. "I know, you could show me."

"Okay," Pria responded, determined to one-up the other girl. She unzipped the stretchy dress, and wiggled it down her hips, discarding her bra in the process. Her panties were a similar style to Althea's, but were black instead of red. Turning to face away from the camera, she planted her feet shoulder width apart and smacked her ass loudly. "You can't really show off your ass when it's covered up like this," she said, tugging at the elastic of the underwear. "You have to get that kind of thing out of the way, first." She looked over at Althea. "Just go ahead and get naked."

"Well," said Althea as she unzipped her own dress, "they do more than just strip there." She pulled down the dress to reveal her own bra was made from a similar material as the dress, tight and stretchy. She shimmied the dress down her torso, hooking her thumbs in her panties as she pulled it down. "Show the viewers how they finger themselves," she said as she peeled off her bra and bent to show her as as previously instructed.

"Of course," Pria replied. She leaned against an unseen wall, her legs spread to show her crotch as she brought down one hand, the other creeping up to grab and squeeze her breast. Stroking the lips of her pussy once, she plunged her fingers in with virtually no hesitation. "I'm hmmm not shhhure I'm doing it right," she said between gasps. "You should show them too."

Althea nodded. "That's a good idea," she said. Taking up an identical, but mirrored stance, she began stroking herself, then dipped her fingers into her dripping sex. Within moments, the two of them were perfectly synchronized in movement, expression, and cries of passion.

"Are you wondering which one is real and which one is a robot?" Cut in another female voice. "If you guessed that Pria was a robot, you're right." There was a brief tone, and Pria immediately snapped to attention, her ministrations apparently forgotten. "But if you said Althea was a robot," the voice continued, "You're also right." Another tone sounded, and Althea instantly adopted the same stance. They then each reached up, grasping their heads firmly on each side, and twisted suddenly to one side, releasing the neck locking mechanism. Their expressions remained passive and distant as they lifted their heads off their bodies, then held them calmly in front of themselves, just between their breasts.

"At the BMOC Fantasy resort," continued the voice, " you can experience all this and more."

I switched off the vidscreen. It was pretty potent stuff, and a strong indicator of what made ScenariCorp so successful in the first place. I was already here, and that video made me look forward to my stay like some kind of holiday. This isn't a vacation, I reminded myself. This is important.

Looking out the window at the unnaturally bright pseudo-night sky, I was impressed at how exactly they had re-created Bosch's campus in every detail. Well, almost every detail. According to the handbook map, this place still had a coffee shop, while Bosch's school had replaced it with a modelling studio not long after dad attended. I had to laugh. The real campus had secretly devolved into the very thing that this facility had been intended to advertise as: An elaborately themed ARA sex resort. Glancing at the handbook to reassure myself, I suddenly realized: That's probably where he got the idea.

Would the facility's system be able to take on the virus? It was a risk either way, but a gamble I had to take. Still, I kept reminding myself that, just because the XR9660F was capable of taking on a threat like this, it didn't mean that it would actually do it - and identifying one unit in three thousand was no small feat. I had a few of dad's notes indicating some of the ways the XR model differed from all the other 'bots, but this was going to be almost pure guesswork.

I once again found myself wondering just how long I would have. My first priority would have to be getting myself registered as a guest, and while I had studied the relevant sections of the handbook and planned my route, I hadn't taken into account the surgery, or the number of ARAs patrolling the halls. I would have to lay low and recover for a while, even if it did cost me some of my lead time. Maybe once I was registered, I could get some of the 'bots to check their sister units.

For now, I was having second thoughts about bringing the handbook on my upcoming excursion. In all likelihood, it would be safer here in the room than with me in the sub-level tunnels. I would have to copy down the necessary information by hand.

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