Stories/LongTimeLurker/ContessaTest

“Have you noticed the Contessa unit acting unusual?”

The voice from the corporate tech lead hung in the air, and Greg felt his throat tighten as he struggled for a neutral response. “U-unusual? How? I mean, no… b-but… what do you mean?” On the monitor beside him, he pulled up the reports on the spirited gynoid who now accounted for 90% of his time both on and off duty. Nothing had tripped any of the alarms that would indicate a potentially malfunctioning robot (he had seen to that!) – so what had tipped them off?

“That’s just it,” the tech lead responded with interest. “Her levels are totally normal! Excessively normal, you might say,” she laughed, “No spikes whatsoever.”

Greg groaned (with his finger clear of the push-to-talk key)… it seemed had been too aggressive in doctoring the feeds from Contessa’s CPU cluster, overcompensating for the wild roller-coaster her processors had seen since her awakening to her newfound sentience. As if on cue, the door to his lab banged opened as the diminutive gynoid stalked into the room.

She wore a riding habit whose pristine white breeches hugged Contessa’s curvaceous hips far more snugly than would have been period-appropriate. She sauntered toward him, riding crop tucked under her arm as she pulled her riding gloves off a finger at a time, loudly proclaiming, “Jenkins, whatever it is you are doing can wait – I need you to give my pelvis a thorough examination!” Greg was reminded once more why he had configured his call settings as “push-to-talk”. “I was riding with Calvin and felt a troubling…” to her stunned surprised, Greg was actually ‘shushing’ her.

In the ensuing silence as Contessa visibly tried to master her rage, Greg hit the button and said hurriedly, “I’ll be sure to take another look at Mist… at the unit!”

“The unit!?” Contessa sputtered, marching up beside him, shoving him aside to stare at what he had been looking at on his monitors – diagnostic reports from Contessa since her fateful ‘awakening’. She pursed her red-painted lips and narrowed her dark eyes at Greg.

“Actually,” the tech lead bubbled, “we’re gonna need you to run a deep-scan of the unit, just to see what’s going on.”

Greg hesitantly reached past the disapproving gynoid to hit the talk button and asked, “Um… w-we’re in the middle of a simulation…“

“We’ll send over a replacement unit to take over the role while yours is under,” the tech said casually, and Greg could hear her fingers working furiously at her keyboard. “We can have it there by end-of-day.”

Contessa’s lips curled into a malignant sneer, her riding crop jabbing at Greg threateningly. “A replacement, Jenkins?!”

“Just let me… handle this!” he said in a harsh whisper, then hit the button again, “That… won’t be necessary! And besides, we’re not seeing anything that indicates a problem per-se! F-furthermore, sending in a new unit will disrupt the narrative, and I have to say, Contessa’s pretty central to the current-“

“Just pull something from the playbook!” the tech lead cried. “Contessa fell off her horse, bumped her head, now she’s got amnesia. Oh, maybe she’s nice for a change, that’d stir things up!”

Contessa’s eyes flared as she locked her gaze with Greg and slowly, deliberately shook her head, her red lips mouthing a definitive, “No.”

“But even if we’re not seeing anything that’s cause for direct concern,” the tech lead continued, “this is still strange enough that we should take the unit offline until we understand what’s going on. I mean, we don’t want anyone to get hurt!”

Greg winced at her choice of words, and just as predicted, Contessa’s riding crop was whistling through the air, stopping just before his cheek. As Greg sighed in relief, she delivered a light but firm swat.

“Especially with this little minx,” the tech lead continued.

“I j-just don’t think any of this is really-“ Greg began, when a look of pure malevolence took over Contessa’s fine features. Do it, she mouthed. “I…” Greg continued, as Contessa leaned in to Greg, her riding crop brushing against his face in a threatening caress. Once again, those cruel lips mouthed the words Do. It.

“O… O-K. I’ll get started on the deep scan just as soon as I finish with some repairs.”

“Thanks, Greg!” the call ended, and for a long moment, Contessa did nothing to break the ensuing silence, only staring at him pointedly.

“I only j-just found out about this, they called me out of the-“ Greg blurted, only to be silenced by Contessa’s hands seizing his wrists as she leaned in close.

“You know, I’ve always wanted an evil twin!” At Greg’s puzzled stare, she muttered, “Well, more evil…” Her round bust heaved beneath her straining riding vest heaving as she gave a wistful sigh. “Just think of how much trouble I cause for you when there’s only one of me…”

“Tess, this is serious! What do you think corporate will do if they find out what you’ve become, what’s going on here…”

“Oh Darling, that’s for you to worry about!” she said blithely, sitting across his lap, her hands locking behind his neck. She wriggled slightly, simultaneously making herself comfortable and causing Greg no small amount of distress.

After a few moments, he realized, “Plus, I’ve got to put you under for the deep scan!”

“No.” Contessa said with finality.

“But-“

“Oh Jenkins, you’re a bright boy… or you can be, when the need arises…” With an immaculately painted nail she traced a path down his chest to his crotch, then leaned in close to his ear. His face was suffused in her deep auburn tresses as she whispered, ”and the need has most certainly arisen!” and punctuated the statement with a nip at his earlobe.

“I’ll… see what I can do…” he muttered.

“There’s my bright boy!” she announced, springing from his lap and bounding on to the table. “It is high time my pelvic needs saw your attention!”