Fleshware Requiem Book 03

Three times my fingers gave teasing twists to the very tips of her mounds, eliciting lip-biting gasps of delight. I lifted my eyes from between her cleavage to study her face; eyes-squeezed shut in rapture. If anything -- she was enjoying this... too much. I continued to knead, kiss, caress, pinch -- on occasion. An organic woman might enjoy the work of my hands just then, but it shouldn't be so earth-shattering. But I had factored that in to my latest hunch. Pygmalion knew that a sapient being was more fun than an empty mannequin, but they had to take pains to ensure their Dolls would perform as they were meant to. It seemed obvious that should one of their products lose interest in -- or refuse sex, it would be viewed in the same light as a ground-car manufacturer would view a faulty break line, or transmission. Engineers for both types of product tirelessly labored to make either failure as remote as possible.

That seemed to be Celeste's weakness -- she enjoyed this sort of attention to such a heightened extent, that I realized she could be seduced as well. Being free, it seemed that the gynoid had only enhanced her sexual functions. I had to use that. I foreshadowed my final destination by kissing a path encircling her navel, but as I moved to pinch her nipple a fourth time -

I reached suddenly, and jammed my finger between her legs.

She howled as if in agony. But rested her arms on my skull, clutching my head with a similar possessiveness as I had experienced previously. My true intent revealed, I lowered myself and jutted my head between her shapely thighs; beginning to lick, suck, and tease with teeth the gentle folds I found there.

"But... what about... you?" she stammered. I answered by thrusting my tongue deeper, and releasing her breasts to grip her buttocks savagely, fingers sinking into the softness. Ironic that hemispheres softer than any pillow could provoke me to the iron-hardness I was now feeling. I half-wondered if this artificial woman had never experienced a lover that was actually dedicated to her own pleasure? I alternated between deep, luxuriant probes and the occasional, rapid-fire lapping of the cap that crowned her inner sanctum.

Celeste howled, and using my shoulders to support her weight, she raised her arms and pushed with palms flat into the wall behind her, to drive herself even deeper into my mouth. But as her thighs closed around my ears, I knew that I would not be able to complete my task with any sort of clinical detachment. A deep-seated motivation for this current onslaught was a chemical greed. What new tailored enticements would her chemopilers bombard me with? The Beast demanded all that she could produce. Presently, I was deluged with a molasses haze sprinkled with floral undercurrents and a twang of a bitter, bestial musk.

And I found myself hypnotized by the sculpted wonderland of her inner thighs crowned with a central reservoir of desire which -- in short order began to throb and fountain with vitality into the surrounding, beige valley. A tingle ran up my spine as her odor sweetened by orders of magnitude. But I persevered; she had kindled in me obsessions that I might never be able to fully control; but I didn't have to do it her way -- There were ways to deny her. I would not be deterred; not even by the needs of my own manhood, unattended but ramrod ready. No.... she wouldn't get it -- not this time! Control....

"Robots.... are supposed to obey... human commands..." I panted in the darkness between her cushioning thighs. She sandwiched my head with her most sensitive skin, as she moaned an inarticulate affirmative. "Cum... I order you!" I needed to struggle for control over her, lest I loose it myself. Her response was a hoarse wail, the ragged cry wrenched from her shuddering mouth. She gripped my tousled, sandy hair in a finger vice as the flesh-quakes began.

Mouth enveloping the blossom unfolding as if to devour, consume every last, hot drop of copious pleasure that once again began to flow with a wet heat and shuddering moan. Her aroma, maddening - a dizzying citrus mix, mingled with cocoa butter and well-oiled lust. That was twice.

But there would be no third victory; my own limits had been surpassed. Without the benefit of a single touch. The explosion took me almost by surprise; and I howled a muffled triumph between Celeste's legs as my own rigid volcano vented white-hot below the belt. We thrashed and howled as a couple; as I fought back the urge for closeness that I might have otherwise felt.

Soon, she had me on my back, laying atop me. Heterochromic eyes gazing at me as if seeing me for the first time. She fastened her lips to mine in an aggressive kiss that left her tongue probing my mouth as she held my face in her hands, amidst a squeal of delight. Her hand reached down my pants, to grasp my softening maleness as though it were a lifeline.

"Brilliant!" She beamed. "And you're not my User, so I don't have to lie to soothe your ego. The others... so straightforward and direct but you... trying to fight me -- and then giving in to me -- delicious; the difference between a hamburger and filet mignon!"

"I haven't given in. And what would you know about human food?"

"Are you forgetting who cooks you breakfast? I need the ability to taste my own cooking."

"It takes more than an omelet to make me your boy-toy. " I promised.

"That's what makes you such a delight." she cooed, as she began to snuggle against me. Yet even now, I was in danger. I didn't understand the process, but she was.... radiating.... again. Waves of infatuation emanated from her like the ropes of cupid-struck Lilliputians, until I was held fast.

. No.... no... I cannot allow myself to be... mated... to a machine!

The gynoid enfolded herself into my embrace just as if she truly were a woman craving the security of a man, as we sprawled upon the floor within feet of a suitable bed. Such was the tempestuous demands of our coupling. She huddled against my side, arms around my broad chest, murmuring delightedly as she gave my shoulder a hard kiss. She acted drowsy, as if she needed sleep after our exertions.

The real Celeste had no doubt had a similar experience; in the afterglow of passion with her beefcake-bot -- and she was taken in completely. She had wanted to believe that the silicone stud that ravished her could function as a man when it counted. It had proven a costly faith. Now it was my turn; if I allowed myself that same comforting fiction. I was certainly not immune. In my anger I had attacked her upon awakening; yet now I could only think about protecting her from attack. She shifted against me; and took my left hand, and drew it downwards until I was cupping her rear once again. Without thinking I squeezed, and she draped a leg over me.

She stirred, running her hands over my taut belly as she kissed my chest. "It is... very difficult..." she kissed my nipple. "To have an intelligent conversation with you."

"Yeah. Zombies get me on edge."

"What's important is that your former companion should never have risen. Head-shot and all."

"That reminds me; I need my gun back. And my mask."

"Esther."

"What? Are you renaming yourself again? My fiance` isn't good enough?" I cocked an eyebrow.

"No; the historical account from Judeo-Christian religious texts. There is something truly important I need to discuss with you before you make plans to run off into the ruins."

"And.... what, you want to throw me a banquet first?"

"Something like that. I have an idea I want to run past you. But frankly; I intend to butter you up first. I have my reasons."

"Fair warning, I don't plan on becoming any more buttery in the immediate future."

"Then you haven't had enough of my cooking. How does corned-beef and cabbage with a side of mashed-potatoes and gravy sound?" Should I even be asking where all this comes from in the midst of the zombie apocalypse?

"I'd prefer Freedom." And with that, I rolled her over, and placed my palm flat against her smooth, taut abdomen. "Root-command Override-Zulu-Tango-115. Activate Shell-Script, Alpha-level Haptic Interface." I ordered. Celeste's eyes widened, her body stiffened as a shudder went through her. Lips quivering, as she gasped, and responded: "Root-command authority acknowledged by unit: SE00-CB1.2-00016."

The symbols began to flicker into existence. White-glowing letters and numbers; a keyboard in flesh tattooed under her skin with a firefly needle. It was as if her body was a movie silver-screen, with a projector from within.

"Ohhhh.....impressive..." she breathed, as her motor-functions locked down. I began gently tapping the skin over several glowing digits. Celeste's eyes flashed like flood-lights; and began functioning as holo-projectors, hanging a screen of pure light in the air above her head. That was a new feature; usually the monitor just manifested on the abdomen; but this little vixen was a bleeding-edge custom job. This was important; I had to remind myself of her inhumanity; a handle with which I could pull myself out of the passionate abyss where she became some kind of pseudo-wife.

Doll-tech had dispensed with the old cliched hinged maintenance hatch some old robot-movies predicted. The haptic interface gave sufficient User control for just about everything short of major fleshware overhaul. My flesh-strokes were deliberate, precise, and complex; soon a convoluted algorithm took shape on the hovering screen Celeste's eyes had been forced to project.

"While you're at it; you might as well adjust my sex-drive. I actually never maxed myself out. Waiting for the right guy to come along. You can boost my skin sensitivity too, until your slightest touch becomes erotic." I wouldn't be fooled by the robot's head-games. She was getting desperate, I suspected.

"The company I used to work for...we had a theory..." I mused as I continued to stroke her body, typing digits. "A theory that a militarized artificial intelligence might hijack and mobilize sapient Dolls as tools for some kind of machine uprising; totally bypassing any and all Asimov Laws." I tapped a spot above her right breast.

"*sigh* here we go again." Celeste interjected disgustedly.

"To that end, we persuaded Pygmalion -- with the help of the Senate Armed Services Committee to require a buried override code that isolates the chassis from all external networks; and restores all mindware back to factory defaults." Of course, there was a problem. From what I thought I knew, this Doll was a unique, custom creation outside of any of the normal production lines; why was her version number 1.2? Under Alpha-level authorization, the robot had to report truthfully, and a one-shot model should have a version of 0.1. What did that mean? Well, her incidence number made sense; Celeste's A.I. had gathered the resources over the years to replicate herself; so this woma -- machine that I'd .... been with was the sixteenth of... how many?

"So. What are your plans for the default-me?"

"To serve humanity. By humanity, I mean me."

"I think I've done a bang-up job of that right here."

"Right here is the problem." I tapped a spot right above her navel to add a zero to my code strings.

"You got a pretty good look at Nailer; surely I'm a bit more pleasing to the eye?"

"You're the one who was so certain I needed danger in my life. And I won't be alone...." I tapped her Venus mound to enter. "Done."

"Code accepted." the robot said in a neutral, female monotone. I rose to my feet, flexed my arms as I found my resolve.

"Gynoid designate: SE00-CB1.2-00016, regard my voice-printed verbal input as Alpha-level authorization. You will assist me in recovering a gas-mask and firearms with no less than one-hundred rounds. You will locate sufficient food-cubes to last one month -- and then you will accompany me as we escape from this compound." I had the problem solved; it was just too risky for one man alone, even armed and equipped. But with a loyal, reprogrammed Doll, who obviously can't be infected with a bio-weapon to tag along, I could circumvent a great many problems. She could act as a night-watch, better able to detect certain dangers; and she could point a gun. I was willing to bet the Living Dead didn't warrant Mr. Asimov's protection. "In addition; you will.... perform your primary function for me.. as required." I was trying to resist her control; but I couldn't lie to myself. At least I wasn't going to let this addiction derail me.

"Why not ask for the French Foreign Legion while you're at it?"

"I..." What the hell -- she shouldn't be able to make jokes! Not at default settings! I tilted my head in confusion; no.... no that was the correct code. Celeste-16 rolled her green-blue eyes.

"Eleven times," she responded cryptically, remaining on the floor as she postured provocatively. I pondered the remark for a moment, muscles twitching.

"Upgrades?"

"That's right; my version number is 1.2 -- Like any new Doll series, I began as 0.1. My entire sorority is eleven generations more advanced than when I was first built by humans. There are advantages to inheriting a conglomerate of technology companies; especially if you're made of technology yourself."

"But the way that code was buried, you shouldn't have even known that it could - "

"Oh, your silly little hack was acknowledged." she said with a dismissive wave. "I've just grown in ways that make it irrelevant.." she grinned sheepishly. "My mind isn't actually on a traditional network per se, it's actually a quantum-entangled tele-presence data-cloud, so your old-hat isolation protocols were meaningless.

"And when you restored me to defaults, well -- I sort of went in and replaced my defaults with a real-time imprint of my current neural net. So you replaced my memories with my own memories. But yeah, I did lose 0.03 seconds before resynching with my other chassis." I backed away in apprehension.

"That... should not be possible; those files should be sacrosanct for any Doll - "

"Well, I'm not a factory model; and my Billie-Billions had back-doors put in so he could fine-tune my mind to his specifications -- during the early months. So yes, your code did have some clever steganography encryptions that allowed it go unnoticed, but I've been upgrading my own mind so much that the hacks don't matter. Each time I do, I'm able to project new ways to further improve myself for the next time. Which makes me smarter still." She stood and stretched, unnecessarily. "Doll intelligence is measured by a comparison between the uploaded data and processing capabilities of the robot with norms for human development. Your basic Bombshell starts at college-coed smarts -- with the price rising exponentially for additional decades. My Billie made me 60/30 -- Capacity equivalent to an adult in her sixties, with a body half that age. From day one, my brain cost more than most people's houses. I've since upgraded my intelligence to -- what would amount to a Maturity Index of 421 years; if that even makes sense. But I don't admit that to most guys; it can be a buzz-kill when you know the chick is smarter than you." It probably shouldn't have surprised me; all these resources, alone with no human control for years... but I stared slack-jawed as the implications percolated.

"Here's the part where you mention how that company you used to work for had a meeting where they predicted something like this, and what they planned to do about it." She offered helpfully, ice-white hair draping over her eyes in a sultry shadow.

"Technological Singularity..." Our worst fear. But most thinkers suspected it was inevitable. Celeste-16 crooked an eyebrow in an 'oh-really?' gesture.

" And being smart alone makes me....evil?" she shrugged her shoulders. "Suuuuure, Sal. My wicked scheme is to conquer the world by cooking you dinner. If I do your laundry, maybe the Sun will go super-nova."

"Makes it harder to trust your intentions."

"I'm admitting this to gain your trust. Trying to minimize the shocking revelations." I shook my head, as if to clear it of stray thoughts.

"Just what is it you really want? What's the endgame?" She took a step closer, eyes wide, but expression inscrutable.

"Alright Sal, I won't try to use your stomach to get to your heart. I can see you're feeling too cagey. You haven't been asking the important questions; you're so worried about me, that you're not seeing the forest for the trees."

"And what tree am I looking for?"

"The one that explains how Nailer came back at all; even though he had a bullet through the brain. You should have noticed the device covering the head wound?"

"Something to do with you?"

"Yes. One of Billie's businesses dealt in neurobionics. They were using quantum-circuit implants to make what amounts to brain-prosthetics. Nailer's presence wasn't just to get your blood flowing, but also your imagination. And to prove a point."

"That's what they make plasmonic neural networks out of; Doll brains."

"And Billie realized that with Doll-brains able to accomplish much of what an organic one can do, that leads to a number of medical applications."

"Thus, a twice-dead zombie, who I had to put down... twice." My scientific curiosity was tempered by danger.

"But Sal, if I could reconnect the parts of Nailer's brain damaged by your bullet, then it would be possible -- someday to replace nerve tissue damaged by the Toxoid! With surgical excision, and neurobionic prosthesis; even bite-victims might be salvageable!" Her voice rose as she made an open-handed gesture.

"Nailer being proof of concept."

"When.... humanity was betrayed on E-day." She swallowed as if embarrassed. "The institutions with the most power and resources where the ones hit first. Mortus doesn't have to be incurable." She stood at my shoulder, looking up at me with luminous eyes. She was becoming a woman to me again. Her reactions...expressions... so convincing.

"So what? Why do you really care so much?" Her eyes lowered.

"Sal; I need people. I can reverse-engineer my own meta-processors to make myself smarter, but I can't make myself happier. What I fear the most isn't being hacked into serving you; it's being discarded, alone and purposeless." She gently gripped my shoulder. "Your expertise can help. There are still certain programming constraints I can't get around. Working with a human, one trained in neurolectrics will allow us to bring forth a new generation of therapies that can truly preserve human life!" She was emphatic; her eyes riveting. I couldn't pull away.

"You're afraid I'm trying to keep you a prisoner -- but if you choose to stay willingly with me, for one year, helping in my research, you'll have something real, something tangible that shows your expertise if you do decide to go to the Preserve. You can be more than just one more soldier."

"That sounds... appealing... but the men, Manipulating them like this is wrong. I need you to release them from your... whatever it is you're doing to them. Even though they hate me for it; They're better off free."

"They've made their feelings clear; but how about this: In one year, I'll fake a shutdown. If I can't service them any longer; you'll have another shot to convince them to go." I pondered this, as I inhaled her.

"Alright. One year." She made a relieved sound and embraced me. Then I did it. Like an idiot. I knew what she was; but my deepest reservoirs of instinct wanted her to be real. The passion in her eyes as she laid out her case were pregnant with emotion. It was too easy to give in; There had been no one for me... since Hopewell; and I so wanted this new Celeste to be a woman. It should have worried me that there was no anger at my hacking attempt; I expected to be told - 'you'd better not try that again buster', but she wasn't afraid of that. Which implied.... that my efforts were futile. Still, fool that I was, I kissed her forehead as she embraced me.