Alisha

I drifted to the surface of wakefulness, and lay in a half-awake state for a while, I was more asleep than I was awake. It had been a very vivid dream, almost a waking dream, except for that last part, that was like a neon-dream sequence in an old vid, but as I came more awake, I realised that I had actually ejaculated, and quite a lot too.

I can't remember the last time I did that. I threw my soiled sleeping shirt and shorts into the wash basket and lay on the bed for a while. It was still early so I got up, put on some fresh shorts and a t-shirt and made some coffee, using a spoonful of my precious good coffee to kick start myself for the day.

The femidroid was exactly where I had left, well, why wouldn't she be? She was inert, lifeless and missing her lower leg. She just lay there partly covered by the sheet, the mounds of her breasts -- and the peaks of her nipples, showing under the cover.

Something felt different, or maybe I just hadn't had enough coffee. Perhaps I had had too much, that can happen you know, when you switch from the substitute to the real thing it does strange things to your system.

Anyway, chewing on a breakfast sweet-roll, I was less chatty this morning as I started work on fixing the other leg.

It was less work than the foot, as I had a better idea of what I was doing and there were slightly less connections to make. Even so it was four hours work, which was fine because I had to scan two broken parts and make new ones, using the 3D fabricator. While the fabricator was making the two pieces, I finished the connections and ran the multi-tester over them. By mid-morning I was fitting the newly fabricated pieces and closing the skin up.

The hands and arms were next, I would have left it till the next day but I was in the zone and decided to keep working through the evening.

I joined the hands to the wrists first, seemed sensible at the time. Delicate long-fingered hands, they were hard work and took most of the afternoon but as early evening crept onwards I was able to start to join the arms to her torso.

The arms had a shed load more connections. Solder, check, cover, rinse, repeat. Having done the leg work -- see what I did there? Having completed the legs, the arms went fairly quickly. Fortunately, the breaks had occurred in the joints so were an easy fix, it was all of those damn connections that took the time. But eventually they were done, moving freely and easily. I then spent a couple more hours doing sensitivity tests for her hands and arms.

By late evening even that was done so that the only thing left to do was to see if I could reboot the femidroid's operating system.

At this point I transferred her to a vertical stand. She stood on her own feet but was supported at the hips by a band and she had a sling around her upper chest and under her arms.

Standing upright, on her own two feet I could appreciate again the work that had gone into her.

She stood about five feet six, maybe five feet seven inches tall. Her breasts were the size of a small orange, nicely shaped and sitting high on her chest, not sagging, and she had nicely sized nipples, sitting in the centre of perfectly formed areolae.

Her hips were in proportion to her figure, with her bottom was exquisitely shaped, making a lovely upside-down heart shape. Thighs, calves and feet all beautiful. The skin was something that fascinated me with that lightly embossed pattern and the built-in capacity that allowed it to seal itself. I did catch myself a couple of times caressing it, as I worked.

I've mentioned before that she had the face of an angel with its large eyes and her mouth with that double curve at the corner, giving her a sort of pixie-ish smile. Of course, she was lacking hair, but that was just a matter of sourcing the right hair-piece. To be honest though, it wasn't that big a deal, bald didn't make her look odd in any way, as some women do, it added to that cute otherworldly look.

Somewhere along the line without realising it I had decided that Alisha -- as I thought of her now -- wasn't going to get broken up for spares, nor was I going to sell her. Realistically that gave me two choices, she'd stay as a display piece, or she could become a functioning femidroid again. I found I was getting quite attached to her. Note, I wasn't getting attracted to her. She wasn't my creation so there wasn't that whole Pygmalion thing going on here. I WAS putting some of me into her by fixing her but only in the same way I would work on a device or a prosthetic, and that's the way I have always been -- working on stuff like this, I put some of myself into them, and as a result I get attached to them. People say it comes through in my craftsmanship and they like that.

I know -- it's nuts, but that's the way I survive.

I see a lot of people during a week of repairs and sales, but I have been single a long time, since I left my wife and my life in Above, and I came to live here in Below. As I said before, I live on my own, apart from the people who come in during the day, or the juves who bring scrap in for valuing. It would be nice to have a companion, someone to talk to and watch vids with. If it was a femidroid that would be even better, none of that emotional shit to get caught up in.

Anyway, I connected the diagnostic cables between the droid and my home network and started to look at the reboot. I was just about to start when I got called away.

An agricultural worker had had a feedback loop in his prosthetic and had nearly vibrated himself into a coma, doing some damage to the prosthetic at the same time. I was on site for a good four hours.

When all was said and done - with travelling time and so on, I was away about six hours, so when I did get home, I was beat, I showered and went to bed.

It happened again.

I dreamed I was in a dark room, there was a naked, lithe, warm, flexible form beside me, it moulded itself to my side, clung to my body. I hadn't had the pleasure of just holding someone next to me in a while and that alone was a wonderful feeling. The other person radiated dedication, and desire. And she -- it being a dream, I knew it was a 'she', even though I didn't actually, couldn't actually see her, she oozed need, the need to make me feel good, the need to pleasure me. Her hands roamed across my body, stroking me, massaging my skin, and my muscles, they were small hands, but strong, touching, pressing, probing, soothing, caressing.

I groaned as my erection grew, in my dream it felt huge, massive, so big it hurt.

This time my nocturnal visitor didn't suck it, instead she climbed up on top and fucked me. You know, that kind of 'knock 'em down and drag 'em out' sex? She used me like a sex toy, working my hardness first with her hands as she inserted me and then using the walls of her pussy to milk me. Then she went wild, rocking and rolling, on top of me. It was like being ground up in a powerful, soft sexy machine. All I did was hang on and keep my cock waving about. Not that there was much room to do so, my night-time sex demon was tight! Deliciously, graspingly tight, plus she had that thing going on where the walls of her pussy gripped and rippled around me causing orgasmic friction.

She would build and build and build towards my orgasm and then pause, then build and build and build and pause again. It was a sweet, delicious torture. I was frantic to cum, I begged but as devoted as my succubus was, she was also a harsh mistress and wouldn't let me spend until she was ready to let me.

Then she did.

And boy, did I cum? I know it was a dream but I don't ever recall feeling like that did. It was a cum that felt like I had been knocked on the head, I saw lights, and stars. I shot and shot and shot and shot, while my faceless partner shuddered and shook on top of me, before she collapsed onto my torso.

Once again, I woke up. But this time I came fully awake. I was genuinely surprised not to find her there on top of me. I wasn't surprised to find the mess that I made of myself and the bed clothes.

I sat up and poured myself a drink of water from the bottle I keep at the bedside. The last wet dream I had had, bar last night's eruption must have been forty years ago. What was happening to me? Who was this that I was dreaming about?

I had no idea, but I was awake now, so I showered, changed into clean clothes and went and sat down with Alisha.

I decided to see what I could see in the OS code first.

That code was like nothing I have ever seen. There are all sorts of operating systems knocking around, old ones, new ones, individual ones, universal ones (that generally aren't), some go back as far into man's history as possible, while others are hot off the keyboard. The point is that while they all have different flavours, most of them have enough in common for people like me to allow them to talk to each other. (That's really important when you've got two mechanisms trying to work together with a human host at the same time.) But Alisha's -- nope! No idea. Couldn't make hide nor tail of it.

I did observe a couple of things. There was a lot of it. There were acres and acres of subroutines, and areas which did stuff but there was no indication of what they actually did. But despite that it was elegant, big as it was it was tightly packed in the memory.

The second thing I observed was that the data drive partitions were odd. There were huge blank spaces in the drive, some -- from the available data fragments -- looked like they had been cleaned badly, but others looked like they were just waiting to be used. I copied the drive to a data crystal, and put it on one side.

The processor activity readings were minimal -- still. Even when I was stimulating parts of her body, her feet, her finger tips, and yes, her nipples and her pussy, I could see the same tiny spikes as before, but otherwise nothing.

None of the things I did changed anything in the system, increasing the sensory input, stimulating the different parts of her body -- nothing, no changes in any of the values in the code -- nothing. I wasn't sure I was wasn't making things worse, I had actually 'stimulated' her so much that a human female would have been passed out on the floor while she came down. I decided to actually stop doing that and stop playing about. I really wasn't getting anywhere, and I had other things to do.

The only thing that came out of this exploration was that I found what appeared to be a reset/on-off switch, in the same area as the input/output ports (the L3 vertebra area). So, I thought what the hell? It wouldn't do any harm, so I switched her off.

I went out for the afternoon, to check on my client from the day before, and to do some 'house calls' on some other clients. The last one -- a long-time client and now a friend - insisted that I come with her to eat, and we ended up watching a singer at a local bar. It was all very civilised and it got me out of the workshop and I stopped thinking about Alisha for a while.

When I went home, I went into the workshop to drop my tool kit off and saw Alisha. She was slumped in the slings, with the power off her posture had sagged, for want of a better word. That left her looking kind of forlorn, sad. So, I switched her back on, and decided that while she was rebooting, I'd put her back on the table, connect her up ready for the morning and cover her up.

I went to bed and slept.

Nothing. Not a thing. Just deep sleep and no explosive emissions or day-glow orgasms.

I got up the next morning, made myself a coffee and my usual breakfast sweet-roll and wandered into the workshop. I was in a relaxed kind of mood, a tiny bit hung over, and not really firing on all four cylinders.

"Good morning Alisha." I said without thinking.

"Good morning Doc!"

I dropped my beaker of coffee and nearly choked on the mouthful of sweet-roll.

"Is Doc not appropriate? I can call you Master if you wish?" The bald femidroid was now a bright-eyed, stunning looking droid with stunning blue eyes, luxurious silver-white hair, and a devastating smile. (Everybody should be greeted by a smile like that at least once in their day). She was sat on the edge of the table, the cover across her upper legs, so that she was naked from the waist up. Her skin had lost its patterning, and looked very real, as did her boobs -- which appeared to have grown slightly.

"No." I told her, as I sat down. "Doc'll do fine. Am I okay calling you Alisha?"

"Alisha is a lovely name thank you. Is my appearance acceptable Doc?" She stretched her arms out waggling the fingers slowly and watching them move.

"Er yes," I stammered, "Yes, it is, Alisha." I eventually managed.

"That is good Doc." She turned to look at me, her eyes were grey and somewhere a man could get lost. "I took special care to create something you'd like."

"You did." I was dumb-founded. "I mean -- you did? How did you do that Alisha? You were a naked droid yesterday evening?"

"I can control my appearance Doc, I can look however you want me -- taller, shorter, thinner or even fatter. Hair, hair colour, eyes, breasts, all within certain parameters obviously."

"'Obviously'?" Okay so this was not the sort of conversation I thought I'd be having today.

"I can only add or lose so much mass, it defines how slight or how heavy I can become. Other than that, I can be a whole range of women."

"How did you decide on your 'look' today?"

Alisha smiled, "Whilst I was re-booting last night, I looked at your browser files..."

"My browser files?" Ohhhh Fuck! Not that there's anything 'wrong' in my browser history -- obviously! But you know, it's your browser history, it's like opening your soul, isn't it?

"Those files are now my files, Doc, they are in my memory." She paused as she watched me, "Do not worry Doc, I am completely discrete."

"Okay." Phew! "And while you were browsing my history..."

"I observed which women you found attractive and altered my appearance so that it would be suitable for you."

"Why?"

"I belong to you Doc." Alisha told me.

"Belong? I found you, but I don't own you Alisha."

"You brought me back to life Doc, I lay broken and lifeless for decades, and you found me, and fixed me..." Alisha flexed her foot and rotated her foot, "And you did a good job on my ankle and knee -- and my arms, Doc, oh you did a great job on them. You revived me Doc. I am yours."

I was struggling to maintain rational thoughts, "You_ Your hands -- are -- are the sensors as they should be?"

That had been a major worry. Alisha flexed her hands again, touched her nipples with the finger tips and smiled. "You nailed it Doc, they're absolutely perfect." She cupped her breasts and lifted them before letting them fall in a most normal -- and breath-taking way.

"I -- erm -- I'm not sure there isn't any internal damage," I said, "I scanned you but couldn't see anything."

She shook her head. "It's all okay, Doc, my system could repair the internal damage, but I couldn't fix the things that broke off."

As she said this, Alisha stood up, and the cover which had been draped over her hips slid to the floor.

For the second time that morning, for a short time I forgot how to breath. She was beautiful. Bare, flawless skin, smooth and complete, from her breasts to the toes of her beautifully shaped feet, to the graceful, sensual curves of hips and the delightfully enticing swell of her mons. Exquisite proportions, in every curve, every rounded shape. The femidroid I had rescued from the scrap heap had evolved, re-shaped itself, and done an incredible job in the process.

"Well Doc? Do I please you?"

"You are extremely pleasing to look on Alisha." I was surprised by how difficult it was to look elsewhere. I struggled to say what I wanted to say, "I'm not sure you belong to me, though Alisha."

She looked shocked, and slightly saddened.

"You belong to someone, but I don't know who that is." I told her.

"Who ever it was discarded me Doc." She said looking at me with those eyes that made me want to melt under their gaze.

"Do you recall who that was?" I asked her, only to be rewarded with a shake of her head. A shake that made the tresses of her hair ripple with the movement.

"I have no recollection of that." She told me firmly, "The memories are fragmentary."

"You however," She said as she moved towards me, with portions of her body jiggling and swaying in incredibly authentic ways, "You rescued me from the scrap pile. You discovered there was still life in me."

Alisha took hold of my hand and raised it to her lips, soft, sensuous -- very real feeling - lips, that despite her re-structure had retained that little uplift at the corners of her mouth. She kissed my hand.

"You know about that?" I asked.

"Your workshop logs." She said as she kissed my hand again, waving her other one to indicate the cameras that record my work. "Thank you. Doc."

"You brought me back to life Doc." she went on, "How can I not belong to you now?"

I picked the cover up off the floor and draped it over her. Part of me reminded myself that Alisha is a machine, but the other part of me was seeing, and hearing (and if truth be told responding to) a real woman. Anyone who might come into the workshop would also see a real woman. A naked woman.

Alisha re-arranged the cover round her, and damn me, but she did it so that it covered her but also showed parts of her in a most alluring way. The sheet draped around her shoulder, and down her back, showing a tantalising glimpse of the top of her bottom and the crease between her cheeks.

She turned around, "How does this look Doc?" Her voice was low and loaded with sultry.

"It'll do for now!" I croaked.

"Do you not find me attractive Doc?" Alisha asked looking at me over her shoulder.

"I do." My mouth was very dry as I said that, it came out like a choking sound.

"I must be doing something wrong then." Alisha said half to herself, as she walked through into my quarters. I had to tell myself that I was watching a well-made machine, (and I will admit that one part of me was watching her limbs, especially the ankle and knee as she walked and complimenting myself on a job well done). A machine that moved with grace and poise, and a machine that looked good doing it. It was a machine that had taken a cover, wrapped it around itself and draped it over one shoulder, revealing a flawless back, and that heart shaped bum, and all the muscles in between - in a dance that resonated at the lowest end of human desires.

She paused looked around then she looked back at me.

Then she made her way across my living space to the alcove where my bed is. I followed her, curious as to what was going to happen next.

It wasn't long before I found out.

Alisha stood by my bed and then without looking at me, dropped the draped cover to the floor.

Fleetingly I thought that whoever had engineered her back was an artist, before she sensuously climbed onto my bed -- leaning forwards, one knee, then that backward glance, her heart shaped arse swaying as she lifted the other knee (the one I had repaired) before she paused on the bed knees apart and her pussy displayed in all it's beautiful glory.

I was lost. I knew that Alisha is an artificial girl, but that knowledge was howled down by what waited for me on my bed. Her presence triggered every sense, acting on all levels from visual all the way down to cortical. She was available and offering her service in the most alluring way. She wanted me.

Did I want her though? And that question in my mind was answered by the thought that this was what she had been created for, built for, designed to do. Alisha had been built purely to satisfy her owner's sexual desires, what ever they were. She would serve and never say no, she would always be available in any way in every hole.