I walked back to the Downtown House in a nasty mood. I could not believe that robosluts had dark moods, but I sure as hell did. I bet it shocked the creator as well.
I was tired of dealing with people, who couldn’t find it in themselves to tell the simple truth. Hell, deep down I knew that they had not even told themselves the truth. When it came right down to it, they wanted their brother to disappear, before he brought chaos to their well ordered lives. As a machine I could appreciate their need for order. I would not have a hard time admitting that I would happily scrap any other machine, which threatened the order of things.
My god, I thought as I stood at my front door, that way of thinking was not human at all. It was the kind of thought that the humans claimed to fear about machines making decisions. To the human the concept of evaluating a person’s worth to society then acting on that evaluation was abhorrent. To me it was the only rational way to place a value on anything.
If Jerome were a bicycle and the bicycle began to give me problems. I might continue to ride the bicycle until the problems made the bicycle, just not worth the extra effort. Then I would evaluate the required cost and effort to repair the bicycle. If it was clearly more expensive to repair the bicycle than it was to buy a new one. I would most definitely scrape the bicycle and replace it. Most humans would as well.
Only a human would spend the extra money to rebuild a worn out bicycle, just because it had been a gift from a lover. A person without the emotional baggage would simple melt it down and start over.
Yes, I still rode the Gunney’s bicycle, so I guess that made me the walking contradiction, partly cold and reasonable and partly emotional. Maybe that was the definition of a modern human.
Whatever I was, I would try to move Jerome along with the least amount of force. They had asked me to do it, because he wasn’t my brother. I had no baggage concerning Jerome. I would do whatever it took, short of murder, to rid them of the troublesome brother.
When I got inside my place, I found it very quiet. I guessed that the two human units had driven to the model house to show it one last time before they left for the weekend. I went into the kitchen to pour myself coffee. I planned to head up to the second floor to relax and watch the traffic move past my window.
Yes, I had heard the background noise, but it got automatically processed and it fell into the ‘not a threat’category, so of no real interest. When I climbed the stairs, I knew what the noise was. It was not a fan with a bad bearing, or a bird sitting on the air vent outside chirping. It Sylvia and Peter screwing in my bed.
Since they didn’t seem to notice me, I leaned against the corner of the bathroom pod and watched. They were looking out the window at the traffic. Well they would have been, if they had their eyes open.
Sylvia was on her hands and knees. Peter was on his knees while leaning against Sylvia. He was also pumping his penis in and out of her. At least that answered my question about who, if anyone, Sylvia was doing.
At that moment I knew why Sylvia liked to watch. It was the most wildly erotic thing I had ever seen. It was like a really good porno video only a hundred times better. Knowing and loving the people involved made it crazy hot. I had a revelation then, maybe watching your sister or brother screw someone would be even more erotic.
I didn’t want to join them, I just wanted to masturbate to the image. So I did. I spread my legs and bent slightly, so that I could easily reach the wildly sexual tab they had attached to me. It was where my clit had been, when I was human. I rubbed that tab and slipped fingers inside me while I watch Peter’s dick move inside Sylvia’s pussy. Somewhere during the show I exploded over and over in orgasm which made me quiver. It was an amazing feeling. It was not better or worse than sex with a man just different in a subtle way.
There was an advantage in knowing where I needed the next sensation to be. Maybe that was what Sylvia felt. Maybe she had the overwhelming need to be in control. Well she wasn’t in control at that moment. At that moment she had Peter’s cock in her and he was headed toward his own orgasm.
My circuits were fried, so I just stood and watched. Peter came so hard that I could tell from his jerky uncoordinated movements, then his sudden muscle freeze as he emptied semen inside Sylvia. She however was still moving trying to get there, wherever there was. Peter almost collapsed, That was my cue to leave as quietly as possible.
When they came downstairs I was sitting at the dining room table drinking coffee. “So I hope you at least plan to take my sheets to the laundry,” I said with a wicked smile.
“I never planned for that to happen,” Peter said seemingly embarrassed.
Sylvia looked at me defiantly and said, “I did.”
“Oh I knew that,” I replied with a smile. “You wanted me to watch. So now I know.” I turned my attention to Peter. “Don’t worry Peter, everyone gets used now and then. It is part of the human condition.”
I gave him a chance to think that over, then I said, “I have a job for you. Go find me a cell phone that you can modify, so that it stays on and transmits for several hours at a time.”
“That’s going to be tough. The batteries are not designed for that much continuous use,” he said.
“Size is not that important, add a second battery if you need to do so. If you absolutely can’t do it, I can devise a protocol to cut down on the use. I would prefer not to do that, but I can I suppose.”
If I had Jerrod check in every 15 minutes with a simple “I’m okay,” that would cut down on the use, but one hell of a lot of shit can happen in fifteen minutes.
“Most of the time the cell phone would be broadcasting nothing but background noise, if that,” Peter said stating the obvious. “What if I used a household alarm unit that dialed your number when there was a significant noise. As in a voice or banging of metal that kind of thing.”
“I could still make the call to the cell phone just to check up?” I said it then thought again. This is way too complicated.
“Just find a cell phone that we can leave on continuously. Then get enough spare batteries to broadcast at least ten hours. Get enough spare chargers, so that they can all be hot in say three hours. Then get a wireless headset as small as possible. The phone should have a camera that will send a photo back to my smart phone as well.”
“Now the two of you go shopping and sin no more,” I said with a grin. Sylvia looked almost disappointed as she left my place to drive Peter around.
After they had gone I had just enough time to make and appointment for Monday with the local highway patrol licensing office. At 2PM on Monday Sylvia would be driving the Inspector around for her first attempt at a driver’s license.
I took the double sized delta coffee cup filled with very hot coffee to the second floor to watch the traffic. While sitting there quietly, I tried to run all the possible scenarios for the Jerome project. It was just mind boggling how many things Jerome could be doing. Also of course how many things could go wrong with this project. The worst one left poor Jerrod laying in a pool of blood. I decided that Jerrod would be an unacceptable loss.
I couldn’t insert myself into the intelligence part of the mission, but I would damn sure be within two minutes of the action at any given time. If it started to turn rank, I would do my damnedest to be the calvary.
I actually drank so much coffee sitting there that I had to empty the storage reservoir. No I could not recycle the coffee. Well I guess technically I could but it would have tasted terrible, After all it had been through a system contaminated with everything from worn out olive oil, to food bits which had no doubt turned a little rancid. Best to just wash it through and not think too much about it’s journey through my roboslut body. Pretty much like you humans do when you use the bathroom.
The call from Peter came well after 5PM. He informed me that he would be going to Tryon to make his purchases. I wondered where he had been the last hour and a half since I knew when he left that he would be going somewhere with more variety in electronics than our small town.
“That’s fine Peter, you have my credit card. Take Sylvia out to dinner and put it on the card as well. It will be your only payment, so make it a really special dinner.” I was serious about it. Whether he did it or not was up to him. He was sure as hell in a great place for food. Tryon was big enough to have a hundred theme restaurants, as well as two malls with three or four fancy places in each.
I made more coffee and returned to the traffic watch. Of course I was fully charged. I had also run enough ‘what ifs’ to feel pretty good about several plans. All that considered, I made the conscious decision to go out looking for trouble.
Since trouble was what I had in mind, I figured it was time to head out on the highway. A trip to the only biker bar in the area seemed to be in order. I had never been inside the chain and spoke but I had sure heard a lot about it. None of what I heard was good.
When I was human, I liked to think of it as good sense, which held me back. After the change, I just had no need to go there. The need I had at that moment was just the need to do something different. As the old robot movies from the 80s and 90s said, I just needed input. It was time to learn something new.
I thought about dressing in costume, but then I thought how silly that would look. So I traded my baggy jeans for my skinny leg jeans. Those were almost tight. The top I chose was very red with short sleeves. It was cut low enough to show a couple of my serious scars. Two of them were from almost fatal wounds. The short sleeves showed several of the cut and scrape scars that would never fade. They had come from non life threatening injuries. Hey if you got ‘em, you might as well flaunt them. I thought.
The beat up mustard colored pick up seemed the ideal vehicle for that evening. A big ass Harley might have been better, but the pick up was the best of the things I had available to me.
I had a real problem with weapons. The jeans and top were too tight to carry anything more than my flat wallet, which would be good to identify the body, and some cash for the first couple of drinks. I could wear a windbreaker, but I wanted my arms and front to show. The only thing in my closet, even close to the look I wanted, was a black as death neoprene vest. The pockets in the vest were not big enough to hide a pistol. Since my derringer was not the small .22 type, it would show as well. I went to the storage cabinet and found the smallest deadly weapon I had. It was a flat piece of steel folded back on itself to make a handle for a razor blade. It was the cheapest of the box openers made from metal. In the other pocket I put a box opener sort of like it. except with a plastic handle and snap off tips on the cutting blade.