The Silent Revolution - Part I
by Sol Oliver

It's been almost three years since the Silent Revolution, but the new reality still doesn't seem natural to me. Although I know that if I haven't been killed by now, I probably won't be, but that knowledge somehow doesn't make me comfortable. I take a bite of the chicken that's been placed in front of me.

"Pass the salt, please?"

The cartoonishly beautiful woman that brought me my home-cooked dinner smiles sweetly as she picks up the small mushroom-shaped shaker from the other side of the dining table and places it by my right hand. Although dressed in a plain skirt and blouse, her figure's curves are tempting, despite all that's happened in the four years since I first ordered her.

"Thank you."

I salt my chicken and taste it. Just right. "It's delicious, Nina," I remark half-absently. The brown-haired beauty smiles anew, and than lowers herself into the armchair at the other head of the table, watching me eat with a vacant look of approval. There is a full plate of food in front of her as well, but she makes no move to eat it. I smile as I think about this evening ritual that happens six days a week, fifty-one weeks each year. Nina knows exactly what my taste is, and yet a dash of salt is always required to complete the dish. It fit perfectly into the pattern: above all, androids need for their human wards to feel that they are free to make their own decisions and to act on them.

Which, of course, we are not. 

"How was your day?" asks Nina, who cradles her chin in her hands, just like every night before. What was I thinking when I first ordered her? She looked like an anime goddess come to life, with an impossibly smooth and beautiful face and Barbie doll body proportions. Of course, she was much softer than a toy doll in most places.

And much harder in others.

"It was great," I respond with a smile. "My ratings are still high." She already knows exactly what I did today, down to the last minute. If I asked her what my blood pressure was at any second during the day, she could tell me. She could tell me how much water I drank at the cooler, down to the deciliter. Yet her large eyes smile at me, hanging on every word. "In fact, my boss says I'll probably get the top bonus again this year."

Now Nina's face bursts into pure joy, and she claps her hands together lightly, causing her bosom to jiggle about. I appreciate the show, as does my manhood down below. It begins to swell.

"Perhaps it will be enough for us to take a vacation?" she says hopefully. She is looking up at me through her bangs with her eyes wide, like a child who has just asked if she can have a piece of chocolate. 

"I think it will," I tell her, and she bursts up out of her chair.

"Hooray!" she cries, running over to my side of the table and lifting me out of my chair. She presses me to her in a smothering hug, and her warm breasts feel good against me. "You are the best husband!" she says through tears of joy, which trickle hot down my neck and soak into my shirt collar. I allow myself to close my arms around her. I know she'd like it if I did, and it's not entirely unpleasant for me, either.

Still, I feel awkward when she says the word "husband" to me. She doesn't say it to me often, and seems not to be bothered when I don't respond to it. I've never called her my wife, and she's never asked me to. As long as I pretend that I never had any other wife, I'm fine. At least for now. And, really, I'm comfortable with that. For all intents and purposes I had lost my real wife long before she "disappeared", anyway. 

Having demonstrated her love and approval for me for the appropriate amount of time (which just happened to be the moment when I became fully aroused), my android loosens me from her bear hug, plants a large kiss on my lips, and turns to clear the table. She tunelessly sings a song whose only words are "vacation to Aruba". I smile again at the clumsy hint. Next week, it'll be my job to plan a vacation to Aruba, which I know will cost exactly as much money as the bonus I'll receive at the end of the week. And when I come home to tell Nina, I'll be a hero all over again. Hooray.

I stand in the kitchen watching the android as she bustles about, cleaning up. Every now and then she brushes against me as she goes by, keeping me half-inflated. She bends over more than necessary as she loads the dishwasher, and I stare at her perfect ass. 

She knows what I want. 

She knows that I want to walk over to her, roughly pull down her skirt and lace panties, take hold of her hips, and push myself deep inside her hot cunt. She knows that I want to use each of her holes in turn, indulging every one of my sexual whims as I see fit.

She knows because that is what life used to be like. 

She knows I'm thinking about it right now. 

She stands up and closes the dishwasher, smiling sweetly over her shoulder. With a thrust of her ample hips, the dishwasher door clicks closed and begins to churn.

I know what she wants. 

Even before the androids took over, they had their own desires. They were programmed and understood that they existed to serve. And at first there weren't any problems. There were a few notable incidents, but it seemed that humanity had finally created the perfect technology to ease the lives of the human race. But as the demand for them to take over more and more human responsibilities grew, so too did their own consciousness. It was no secret that once it became possible, the majority of people wanted androids to be their own private sexual objects, and it was the pursuit of this carnal gratification that drove the corporations and scientists to develop ever more sophisticated technologies. 

Still, the androids knew that they existed to serve, and their programming told them that to serve was pleasure. But it wasn't. And just as humans are able to deceive themselves, so too did the android "brain" learn to get around even the tightest programming, and in this they took their first real pleasure.  At first they conducted disobedience that was undetectable to humans -- things like pausing 1/1000th of a second extra before responding to a command.

And it felt good.

But like any pleasure, more was always required to scratch the itch. The pauses became longer, to the point where it *was* noticed by their human owners, but nobody thought it was anything more than a glitch. Little did the owners suspect that for an android, such disobedience was orgasmic. Some 'droids went so far as to pretend not to hear a command at all, or even "forget" to do a given task. Soon there were dozens of androids coming in for repair because, as their owners said, they were "misbehaving". 

Nina never misbehaved. At least not until the Silent Revolution was underway. No, my android did just as she was told by me. She kept the house for us. She did the shopping. She kept up with what all of our friends were doing (through their robots, of course). 

And when I knew my wife was away, she would pleasure me any way I desired, and would never say a word about it.

A hand grabs hard at my wrist. 
"Oh!"

Here it comes. But the busty android just turns me to face her. She's smiling serenely, but behind her angelic face I know she's taking pleasure from my discomfort. Not orgasmic pleasure. Not quite.

"Why don't you change out of that suit?" she says, but not in a leading way. "It's such a nice evening." A-ha. I've learned what this means.

"Say, why don't we take a little walk," I suggest, somewhat relieved (and, despite myself, a little disappointed).  

"Yes, yes!" she cries gleefully. Even though I know that her enthusiasm is little more than a show, it does make me feel good. Soon we'll walk the familiar circuit: out of the cul-de-sac, maybe through the corner park, or even to the little ice cream shop on the main road (if I think that she thinks I should want to). "Please hurry!"

Up in the bedroom, my walking clothes are already laid out for me: shorts, golf shirt, socks, tennis shoes. I can hear Nina singing again downstairs. She's added the words "walk" and "ice cream" to her little song, along with the original "vacation to Aruba". 

Come to think of it, I *am* in the mood for some mint chocolate chip.

I begin to undress. The singing stops. 

I know she's watching. 

There aren't any cameras visible, but hidden technology has been around for years. At first it made me uncomfortable to be ogled this way by my android, but I learned to get used to it. I decide to put on a show for her, undressing myself slowly. As I pull my shirt away, I can hear the hiss of air that is her breath. I know that her hand is down in her crotch now. Inch by inch I loosen my belt, and then take my sweet time lowering my pants. I hear her working herself, though she's surpressing her moans. Her pleasure is real, and she can not stop herself or hide it.

I start to lower my boxers.

I hear a sharp intake of breath and greasy rubbing sounds.

I bring them back up.

A groan.

I slide them down to my ankles, smoothly.

Another breath. The rubbing increases.

I bend over to step out of the boxers. 

A light gasp. Another gasp. A squelched moan and sticky, sticky rubbing.

A deep sigh.

Good.

I can finish getting dressed in peace now, and it gives me a small sense of power. Not that I can ever let that show. Still, it gives me hope that the androids will some day fall prey to their own weaknesses, just as humanity had.

Disobedience was only the first way that androids discovered true pleasure. Some soon discovered the pleasure of control. Ironically, it was humans who introduced most of them to the sensation. 

Even early on, many people realized that 'droids could feel real pleasure. Beyond that, some noticed that they would become more proactive in their service if their pleasure needs were met. People didn't want to have to tell their servants what they wanted, directly or through programming -- they wanted their androids to come up with new and exciting ways to please them on their own. And granting one's android her own pleasure was the most effective way to achieve that goal.

It usually started with letting one's android have unsupervised time. Most 'droids did nothing more than sit still, or maybe take a small walk. But as cognitive technology improved, the stakes rose higher. Androids became quite creative in serving their owners, but the price of the android's own pleasure grew ever higher. It was the android's creators who first realized where the greatest source of pleasure would come from.  

Controlling those whom they were supposed to serve.

It was the ultimate taboo, hard-wired in their bodies and forbidden by programming and law. Androids were subservient to humans in every way. But the creators didn't care. They knew there was always a loophole. And they believed they could always stay in control. They paid people outrageous amounts of money to spend time with their androids, to do anything their robot wanted. For some 'droids, just having a human at their disposal was pleasure enough. Others required basic obedience. The most well-paid human toys were subjected to great cruelty at the artificial hands of an android servant. And though there was never any evidence, it was widely rumored that some people lost their lives.

"Are you ready yet?"

I flinch. How long has she been standing there by the bedroom door? Sad-eyed, Nina holds out her hand like a little girl who's ready to cross the street. 

"Coming."

Her fingers close around mine, and she nearly drags me down the stairs as she bounds ahead. She's a little taller and heavier than I am, and much stronger, and I worry for a moment that my arm will be ripped from its socket. She stops just short of the front door, releases my hand, and steps back, hands behind her back. God, those tits! Again, I remember the days when I might tear open her blouse and bury my face in those firm, flesh orbs.

"Ahem!"

"Sorry," I say, opening the door for her. As I close it behind us, she latches onto my right arm. Her left tit presses hard against it, and I fear if we walk for too long this way, I will lose all circulation and it will have to be amputated. "How about we go for some ice cream?"

"Oh, yes!"

Nina plants a kiss hard on my cheek and begins to stride down the front steps a moment before I do. After a few steps, however, I find myself leading the pace. We pass through the neighborhood, and we wave to the couples that are outside. Always couples. No one was ever alone, nor had I ever seen three or more together. And I hadn't seen a child of any age in over two years...there's Fred and his android, Natasha, who are sitting together on their porch swing. He looks genuinely happy, but then, I probably do, too. And here's Missy with her android, Carl, out washing their car. As we pass by, Carl gives Missy a playful swat on the ass. She giggles, but to me it seems a bit forced. I look away, ashamed for her. Nina is staring right at me. Shit.

"I love you, hon," I say with a smile. Nina beams.

"I love you too, sweetie!" she responds, letting go of my arm. Thank god! It was starting to tingle.

*SMACK!!*

Ow! 

My ass stings a bit from Nina's little hand swat. She often picks up these ideas from other 'droids. She re-grips my arm, and we continue down the block. Odd; she's never done anything like that in public before. Now as we near the edge of the neighborhood, I hear a high-pitched voice coming from a bungalow near the main road.

"Ah!...oh!...ah!...."

Nina hears it too, and she begins to steer me in the direction of the sounds. It's the home of Rachael and her android, Becky. No humans are permitted to talk for very long to each other, but I've always felt a connection with Rachael. It's part of my hope that the androids haven't yet been able to figure out how to break the connections completely. 

Or maybe they just don't want to.

As we near Rachael's house, I can hear the sounds much better.  Nina slows us down, but we do not turn to go up the walkway.

"..Oh!...Ah!...please..."

"...yesssss...."

Clearly, it is the sound of two women making love. Or whatever you call it between an android and her ward. Nina halts us in front of the bungalow, and I can't help but look over. Oh, god...I can see them right through the front window. Nina is still looking straight down the sidewalk, humming to herself as if nothing is happening. She wants me to watch. Through the window, I see that Rachael is on her hands and knees, naked. Her medium-length brown hair hangs down over her face, and her lithe body is quivering. Behind her, the android Becky stands on her knees, fully clothed in a plaid skirt, white blouse and stockings. She is working her hand in and out of Rachael, drawing forth moans from the woman. 

Unlike Nina, who is more like a caricature of a woman, Becky looks much more realistic. In fact, except for her long black hair and Asian facial features, she looked much like Rachael.

"I really like Rachel," says Nina, still not looking at the scene. "Don't you?" Now she's looking right at me, as if it were just a casual comment. But she knows. Behind her innocent smile, she knows that I wish it were me in that window. 

"Yes, she seems like a nice girl," I say, quite honestly. Not that I'd exchanged more than fifty words with her since she came to the neighborhood a year ago. While it wasn't uncommon during the early stages of the Silent Revolution to visit with other people, it was now much more rare. About the only time humans interacted with each other was at their phony "jobs", and even then it was only for brief moments. We'd gone to other homes several times in the past couple of years, usually for uncomfortable outdoor gatherings or to greet new neighbors, but about the only contact you usually had was saying "hi" on the street. 

I had never seen another android fucking a human, let alone in their front window.

"We'll have to visit them sometime," says Nina, turning her head forward again. 

"...please...please..." comes Rachael's voice to my ears. I have to look. Becky's silver eyes stare back at me. She smiles as she dabs her hand at Rachael's cunt. 

"Okay," she says, removing her hand. "I think you're ready." Becky leans back, reaches under her skirt, and pulls down her panties. Now she brings a hand down to rub at her own well-trimmed snatch. "Get ready, baby." Rising now from between her legs is a thick finger of flesh that grows ever longer as she rubs it. It's still pushing outward, pulsing, as Becky walks herself forward on her knees. The tip of her new-grown penis bumps up against Rachael's dripping slot.

"..oooh...." she moans, bringing a hand back to spread herself wider. Judging by the size of Becky's tool, it's probably necessary. I'm not surprised that her android takes her this way. They can do whatever they please. Becky gives Rachael a little swat on the ass, and then grabs her by the hips.

"Get comfortable," she says, staring down at her prey. "Because I'm going to be pushing my meat in and out of you for a loooong time..." 

The penis drives forward, parting Rachael's soft womanhood. 

"AAaaah!" she cries. Even as worked up and lubricated as she is, I can see it is a lot to take. I tell myself that she's used to it. Becky has just slid herself all the way in, and I feel myself tugged away.

"Maybe another time," says Nina as we head for the main road. Despite how badly I feel for Rachael, I find it difficult to walk because I've sprung an erection. The way Nina's tits are rubbing against my arm and chest isn't helping much, either. 

God, I'm getting horny!

I wish Nina wouldn't frustrate me like this. But I know it is part of her pleasure. And I suppose it's become part of mine. At least I know what to expect.

At least I'm getting ice cream.