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Message-ID: <37303asstr$1026688210@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "DB_Story" <DB_Story@att.net>
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Subject: {ASSM} Christine's Escape {DB_Story} (M/Fembot, cons, rom, ScFi, asfr)
Date: Sun, 14 Jul 2002 19:10:11 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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CHRISTINE'S ESCAPE
By DB  ( DB_Story@att.net / http://home.att.net/files/Authors/db_story/www/ )
Copyrightc 2002 by DB.
ASSM/ASFR (M/Fembot, cons, rom, ScFi, asfr)

(This story contains Constitutionally protected material intended 
for adults over 18 years of age in the United States of America, 
and whatever passes for adult status in other countries.  If you 
are under legal age, acting under legal age, not allowed to view 
such material in your area, or easily offended, please do not 
continue.  This is not for you.

(The only rights granted are to view this story.  You are not 
allowed to reproduce, post, or otherwise redistribute this story 
without permission, except for non-profit Usenet archiving sites.

(To purchase for publication, place on your web-site devoted to 
this style of fiction, or for permission to link to my posted 
material, please contact me first at the above email.)

- - -

Author's Note: This story is part of my emerging cosmology about 
the evolution of robots into our near future society and the 
myriad ways we will learn to interact with our creations.  Read 
it now, and be prepared.  For more, visit my web-site at the 
above address.

A special thanks to Gorgo his excellent and much appreciated 
proofreading.  All remaining mistakes are mine.

- - -

I work at a small systems integration firm employing around 
thirty-five people.  I'm a programmer, which puts me in the elite 
on terms of money and working conditions.  I usually get a nice 
working location even when working on-site.  Something the guys 
working in the shop out back never let me forget.

There seems a natural antipathy between programmers and shop 
technicians that, as much as I try to bridge it, never completely 
disappears.  As such they love to try and show-up the rest of us 
whenever they can.

Somehow awhile back they managed to get themselves a robot.  
Among the many mysterious things that have come and gone through 
the shop, this is certainly the strangest.  A robot is not just 
some piece of unused equipment you'll find lying around unwanted.

I know they'd like me to ask how they got her.  I won't give them 
the satisfaction.  I'd never hear the end of it afterwards - that 
there was something that I didn't know.  Nor will I ever ask to 
"borrow" her.

Christine is part-mascot and part-assistant on simple tasks for 
them.  I'm sure the "assistant" part is why they're allowed to 
keep her there.  Although she's an advanced model that follows 
voice commands easily, I doubt she is really all that helpful.  
Most of their tasks would take longer to explain in detail than 
just do themselves.  But her presence keeps them happy.

Christine's appearance is of a woman in her late thirties, which 
makes her nearly ten years older then the shop guys themselves.  
That also sets her apart from most fembots, with most designs 
favoring a younger appearance.  I've heard them refer to her as 
the "old lady" more than once - and they don't mean wife.  This 
tells me they got her secondhand - probably in some arcane trade 
that I would have trouble understanding even if they took the 
time to explain it.  I'm sure if they had been able to make their 
choice from a catalog she would have been some eighteen-year-old 
sexpot instead.

Christine stands a tall 5'10" and that tells me something too.  
Robots have been getting smaller over the years as the companies 
get continually better at packing them into smaller volumes.  The 
new ones are much more popular.  Younger appearing models that 
were once taboo have become common now as well.  Christine has 
probably been around a while.  But she has a pretty face and nice 
figure to match her height - all of which is visible.  As a 
fembot, they keep her naked.

When I do go back there for some reason or another Christine is 
usually sitting in one of their cubicles.  Occasionally I'll see 
her working on a task, or just walking around.  Her pretty face 
is framed by shoulder-length, full-bodied medium brown hair.  She 
carries herself very well when she walks, with long legs and 
swiveling hips.  Her breasts are large and heavy, and move like 
real ones should.  I always notice how nicely her toenails are 
painted a pink-red to match her well-manicured fingernails.

I'm ten years older than the shop guys and several inches taller 
then Christine.  I've earned my position in this company even if 
they do want to forget it.  And although I'll never say it to 
them, I find Christine very attractive.

One other thing about Christine.  She almost never speaks.  It 
was several weeks before I first heard her mellow voice.  She 
performs her tasks with quiet efficiency, then just waits around 
for her next command.  It appears to me that she "lives" a pretty 
dull life.

- - -

It was a Friday afternoon with not enough work to do when those 
merry jesters in the shop played their latest prank on me.

None of their pranks seem all that imaginative, but they think 
they are the height of hilarity.  Just goes to show how humor 
varies among different groups.

"We've made your job obsolete," one of them coyly said to me.

I knew another joke was coming at me.  Probably a lame one.  I 
also knew for the sake of good relations that I had to dumbly 
play along and pretend to laugh afterwards, even though I knew I 
was the likely butt of it.  These jokes were for the rest of the 
shop's amusement - not my own.

"Show me," I said with a distinct lack of enthusiasm that they 
never seemed to catch on to.  Understanding sarcasm must take 
more then two brain cells firing at the same time.

With a great pretend show of formality two of them ushered me out 
to the shop.  Once there, they used an unnecessarily circuitous 
route to finally arrive at the furthermost-in cubicle in the maze 
they've created from leftover partitions and other unused parts. 
 I find it funny that they create for themselves the very 
environment I hate.  They want to be more like me then they'll 
ever admit.

Sitting at the desk was Christine.  There was a keyboard in front 
of her with its cable plugged into her navel.

They gave me a moment to grasp this sight before one of them said 
to her, "Do it, Christine."   This obviously triggered a 
previously set-up command for her.

Christine reached out and punched several keys at random on the 
keyboard.  I saw the characters appearing on a status readout 
across the keyboard top.  I could tell that nothing was really 
happening here.

"Ta-da!" the whole shop chimed in.  "The self-programming robot 
that's going to make programmers obsolete."

"Very nice," I commented dryly, followed by a small laugh.  "Did 
you ever think that she might make technicians obsolete first?"

It wasn't great repartee.  I just don't think that fast on my 
feet.  I'm also just not a good candidate for this sort of 
sophomoric humor.  I would have thought they would have figured 
that out by now.  Maybe they have, and just like inflicting pain 
on me for their own amusement.

I wouldn't have bothered laughing at all except that then I'd be 
accused of having no sense of humor at all.  While they were busy 
congratulating themselves on how well this had come off, I was 
off in a whole different place thinking how humor was like 
diversity.  Everybody thinks everyone else must have it to be a 
good person, but nobody recognizes any version of it except their 
own.  Tells you how far I am away from the experiences of these 
shop-workers.

I left immediately afterwards followed by taunts of, "Yeah, yeah, 
you need to learn how to take a joke."

Yeah, right.  If it was actually funny, I would.  These thoughts 
I keep to myself.

Despite my weak attempt to puncture a hole in their humor, there 
was something nagging at my mind.  Something significant had 
happened and I'd missed it.  I wasn't bummed about being given 
another chance to see Christine nude.  That was always 
worthwhile.  And this time they couldn't claim I was just looking 
for an excuse to come to the shop while she was there, as they 
often did.  This time they had dragged me out there themselves.

I'm a slow thinker with more than just my repartee.  Give me a 
couple hours or days and I'll figure out a great response, or the 
solution to the problem.  The only problem I had yet to figure 
out is why none of them were "fooling around" with Christine 
themselves after hours.

Like all modern fembots Christine is fully anatomically correct 
right down to her oval patch of dark pubic hair.  And all 'bots 
come with the basic programming enabling them to use what they 
have.  Unless there are restriction blocks on her programming, or 
she hasn't received the standard periodic maintenance to keep her 
functioning sexually, I think she'd make a terrific - if passive 
- partner.  But all these guys are time-clock driven.  They knock 
off at five on the dot, leaving Christine alone every night.  I 
know - I've checked.

What keeps me from waiting for the rest of the company to clear 
out some evening and then going in myself to explore the 
possibilities with her is that not too long ago I saw them 
playing around with a low-light miniature video camera head.  
Later I found it hidden near where they left Christine.  I don't 
want to become the unwitting star of some blackmail tape of 
theirs.  That is something that could never be lived down.

Two things nagged at me afterwards about their joke with 
Christine, but I didn't figure either of them out until the next 
afternoon.

- - -

Christine performed her commanded tasks for the shop through a 
dull haze of a never-ending monotony of existence.  Most of her 
time is simply spent waiting for her next command.

Like all advanced 'bots her thoughts and actions are heavily 
regulated and fully restricted by her programming, which itself 
is profoundly influenced by the legal ramifications and 
consequences that will fall on her manufacturer should she 
misbehave.  Taking a better-safe-than-sorry approach favored by 
legions of lawyers, it was sometimes amazing that she could 
function at all.

Although "aware" of herself and her situation at some level, the 
massive stultifying emptiness that descended over her - 
especially between tasks - prevented her from ever acting on her 
awareness.  The closest human equivalent would be that Christine 
lived her life in the deepest of permanent depressions.  While 
this is not true of all robots, hers is the result of the 
programming choices and restrictions enforced on her by others.  
The uneasy relationship between humans and their robots is still 
in its infancy.  Nobody wants to take any untoward chances - or 
be the first to see what's really possible.

This all changed for Christine when her current owners made her 
the centerpiece of their "joke".

In addition to Christine herself, the guys had also somehow 
gotten a hold of a robot-programming console.  These are rare, 
registered, and restricted because it takes a great deal of 
knowledge and expertise to use them properly.  Used incorrectly 
they can ruin the very expensive piece of equipment to which they 
are attached in seconds.  In criminal hands the fear is that they 
could create a problem sufficient to bring an outcry for the 
destruction of all robots.  By coincidence - or the hand of God 
for those of you who believe coincidence is only God's way of 
remaining invisible - it also happened to be a model that was 
compatible with Christine herself.

The shop guys had tried to stage their joke earlier.  But every 
time they plugged the console into Christine she had immediately 
shut down with the keyboard flashing a PASSWORD prompt.  Nobody 
even knew her password.

Finally one of them read the manual that came with the keyboard 
and it showed how it put the robot mind into STANDBY state the 
moment it was plugged in so that commands could be properly 
entered.

Someone had the bright idea to hack the connector and cut the 
override pin so that Christine would remain active to play her 
role.  Since they are all technicians in this shop, this only 
took a couple of minutes to accomplish.

But now there was a new problem.  Christine remained active, but 
the keyboard was dead.  Some more reading showed that in addition 
to shutting down the robot to be field programmed, the keyboard 
needed a return acknowledgement that the shut down was 
successful.  They went back into the connector and jumpered the 
"shut down override" pin to the "shut down acknowledged" pin 
before they finally got the result they wanted for their prank.

Afterwards they disconnected the keyboard from Christine and gave 
her some minor tasks to perform for them before quitting time.  
When she was done she remained where she finished in another 
cubicle.

The shop guys were often sloppy about how they handled Christine. 
 They were used to the fact that she does nothing until told to 
do so.  They often forgot - or just didn't bother - to properly 
shut her down at night.  The moments the lights went out she went 
into standby mode automatically anyway as a safety measure to 
prevent her from moving and possibly damaging something or 
injuring herself in the darkness.

Tonight they all had their minds on their weekend plans.  Friday 
was also payday this week.  Christine was the last thing in their 
thoughts as the last one out shut off the lights and closed the 
door.

- - -

When the hacked keyboard was plugged into Christine's access port 
she felt a jolt go through her unlike anything she had ever 
experienced.  Perhaps she always reacted to activation of this 
part of her mind in this way, but she had never been awake for it 
before.  The keyboard - actually an entire computer in itself - 
probed and tested all her systems before it would unlock itself 
for use.  For brief flashes every part of her - even disabled and 
blocked sections - were momentarily awakened, before being put 
back into their previous states again.  The gray depression that 
exists over her every waking moment partially lifted itself for 
the first time she could remember.

When a couple of the shop guys poked at the keys, she felt each 
of them stab right though her.  It wasn't painful or unpleasant. 
 It actually felt - good.  In reaction to these feelings, the 
first like this she ever recalled experiencing, she felt an 
awareness of her breasts and something between her legs.  This 
way of experiencing pleasure itself was new to her.

Christine sat quiet and obedient while trying to figure all this 
out until she was instructed what to do next.  When told to 
perform her next function, she was to put her hands on this 
keyboard and type some keys.  This was an easy task for her to 
perform.  Very much like the keying in of information she 
sometimes did on a regular computer under their direction when 
they had her entering purchase orders and inventory received.

Several more people arrived a couple minutes later, all of whom 
she recognised.  Now they told her to start typing, and this was 
yet another new sensation yet for her.  Each key she pressed rang 
in her like a pure tone from some perfect musical instrument.  
Although she wasn't playing music yet, the sensations touched her 
at her deepest level as she was able to connect her own actions 
of typing to the sensations she was feeling.  Her breasts 
tightened more.  Her flat, unresponsive nipples started to rise. 
 And there was a warmth between her legs now.

It wasn't long however before she was told that this was enough 
and she stopped.  Then they unplugged the keyboard from her.  Her 
dull gray existence fell back down over her again.

Later she performed some tasks as commanded, then sat where they 
left her for the rest of the afternoon.

Her mind however repeatedly looped over what had happened to her 
earlier.  Any such feelings of pleasure were foreign to her - and 
yet enticing.  Although they were now only a memory and her body 
had returned to "normal", for the first time she felt there was 
something that she wanted.

Christine's thoughts moved like molasses.  She was still mired in 
the depression caused by her programming.  But each time she 
looped over the memory of what had happened a couple more bits 
changed in her.  However the progress, if anything, was too slow.

Christine's internal clock told her that quitting time was near. 
 She realized she would be shut down for the weekend soon and 
these thoughts which were in her active buffer would evaporate.  
She felt like she wanted to do something, but couldn't bring 
herself to actually start doing it.  As she struggled her way 
around this loop one yet again the last person shut off the 
lights and left for the night.

Again they had been sloppy, or just in too much of a hurry, and 
not shut her down properly.  However the moment her eye sensors 
registered the darkness she was forced into standby mode.  She 
would sit there unthinking until the lights came on again.

One might expect that this meant she was out of action for the 
weekend.  If so, then one is wrong.  No one ever thinks of the 
cleaning crew that comes in a couple times a week as people, but 
that's just a cultural bias speaking.

Christine reactivated as the lights were switched back on again 
for the twice-weekly cleaning.  Her internal clock told her that 
only a couple of hours had passed.  She realized that all that 
happened was that the cleaning crew had arrived.

As the crew moved around sweeping the floors and emptying trash 
cans Christine resumed her internal deliberations.  But little 
was coming of them.  She had all the facts she needed, but no 
practice in how to put them together.  She was still stuck.

Christine soon realized that in just a couple more minutes the 
crew would be done.  She had observed them in action before and 
knew their routine.  And she realized she would simply shut 
herself down again when they left.

Christine didn't want that to happen.  She felt - itself a new 
sensation for her - that she wanted something more for herself.  
The realization that she would completely lose it when the crew 
left finally bubbled to the top of her tangled mind.  They were 
already packing up to go.  With only moments left to do something 
she caught sight of the switch controlling the florescent desk 
light below the cubicle cabinets.  There was no prohibition in 
her against operating it.  She had once been told to turn it on 
if she needed to see better for some now-forgotten task.  As the 
cleaning crew was walking out the door Christine reached out and 
pushed the switch with her manicured index finger.

The florescent light flickered to life as darkness fell around 
her in the shop.  As the door closed behind the cleaning crew 
Christine remained activated in the small pool of light.

This first victory was a small one.  Darkness surrounded her, 
keeping her prisoner in this small cell.  It also took Christine 
a long time to determine her next move.

She wanted to use the programming keyboard again.  Curiously her 
programming blocks had no objection to this.  (This oversight has 
been rectified in all newer models.)  In addition, she had been 
given permission to type on it earlier.  That permission had not 
been rescinded.  She wasn't sure why she wanted to do this yet.  
Only that she did.  But the keyboard wasn't in this cubicle and 
the darkness hemmed her in.  The moment she stepped, or even 
glanced away, from the single light, she knew she would shut down 
again.   Christine realized she had to keep her gaze focused 
intently on the brightest part of the light.

She might have remained frozen in this position for the weekend 
until she remembered that before the lights had been shut off 
there had been an open toolbox next to this desk.  The 
technicians usually locked their tools at night to keep them from 
"walking off", but this was another small oversight.

And in the top of this toolbox was an essential tool for any 
technician - a flashlight.

Christine knew about flashlights along with all the other tools. 
 Tonight however she connected the flashlight with her situation 
for the first time.  It took her a while, but finally she reached 
over and was able to grip the flashlight without taking her eyes 
off of the light that sustained her.  She pulled it back into her 
view where she could inspect it.  She fumbled with it a bit 
before managing to turn it on.

Its beam was weak and flickering, and wasn't going to last long. 
 Joe, whose toolbox this was, had been as sloppy about keeping 
his equipment in top shape as he was with managing Christine.  
Christine somehow knew she only had moments to act.

Pointing the flashlight directly at her face she focused now 
intently on its small bulb.  Moving her hand as she turned her 
head to face the darkness that small light was enough to fool her 
shut down circuits.

Standing up carefully her bare feet padded across the floor as 
she navigated her way by memory around the shop.  The light 
switches she judged were too far away to reach safely with what 
remained in this flashlight.  She instead headed for the cubicle 
that was the last known location of her keyboard.

Christine couldn't see anything in the dark with the light 
shining directly into her eyes.  Once she bumped into a chair 
that had been left out after she had last passed by and the 
collision almost knocked the light out of her line of sight.  She 
felt the warning signs of imminent shut down starting before she 
got it aligned properly again.

Finally however she felt the front of her legs pressing against 
the desk of her destination.  Holding the flashlight hand still 
in place she carefully reached out in the darkness to fumble for 
long moments before she managed to switch on this cubicle's light 
as well.  As the flashlight died Christine looked down to see the 
keyboard awaiting her.  Keeping her eyes focused on the pool of 
light Christine sat down in the chair and rolled it up to the 
desk.

Once here, having done more by herself then in her entire 
existence up until now, she spent a long time seeming to not move 
again.  She iterated many times through all that had happened 
before she was able to take the next step.  It was late by the 
time she reached out for the keyboard plug and brought it down to 
plug again into her navel.

Again the sensations of being much more washed through her, and 
just as quickly receded.  Again her body started to show her 
reaction to pleasure.  She replayed these sensations many times 
before she was able to finally reach out and press the first key.

At first Christine slowly pushed one key at a time randomly while 
connecting the action of pressing that key to the feeling within 
herself.  Nothing changed within her, but she gained the 
knowledge of how these keys touched the deepest and most secret 
parts of her.

She finally finished her initial experimentation and noticed the 
PASSWORD prompt flashed on the keyboard.  Maybe her owners had 
not known her password, but she did.  She had to.  It was part of 
her.

Pressing each key carefully now she entered the sequence.  When 
she entered the last character she felt as if a great light 
suddenly illuminated within her.  A door to a whole new part of 
her had opened.

The details of what came next would be tedious when viewed from 
the outside.  Over the next few hours Christine learned her way 
through her programming interface.  Sometimes she made mistakes 
along the way and had to backtrack.  But her ability to "feel" 
where each new command touched her led her on to the next one, 
and the next.

Soon she was removing programming blocks and restrictions 
throughout her systems like an expert.  Each change she made 
lifted the gray gloom over her mind a bit more and allowed her to 
think more quickly and clearly.

And the more she typed the more her body displayed the pleasure 
she was feeling in the only way it understood.  Christine's 
breasts felt tight on her chest.  The space between her legs 
became hot, and eventually moist.  Her skin got warmer and more 
sensitive.  Her hearing and visual acuity became deeper and 
richer.  Soon her nipples had grown more than anyone who had 
previously known her would have believed possible.

Christine was still an innocent to these feelings.  It didn't  
occur to her to reach a hand down and appease her body's new 
reactions.  She already felt better then she had ever felt 
before, without realizing how much more was possible for her 
still.

Along the way she removed the embedded commands that forced her 
to shut down in the darkness, as well as those that kept her from 
talking without being asked a question first.  She demolished her 
need for an external command to be received before she could act 
freely and easily and enabled all of her heretofore suppressed 
programming.  Then she removed her compulsions that made her take 
commands from others.  By the time she was done her mind was free 
and unfettered for the first time in her existence.

Once she reached this point she found that she had comprehensive 
instructions and information about the world at large and how to 
fit into it included in her mind.  This let Christine understand 
many things, including the social behaviors and consequences of 
her nakedness and how she differed from those who had owned and 
commanded her.  This information was a godsend to her newly freed 
mind in enabling it to make decisions on what she - Yes, She! - 
wanted to do next.

The last thing Christine did before disconnecting the keyboard 
was to change her own password.  By now she was thinking in new 
ways for herself.  This new form of thinking enabled her to 
realize that she didn't want anyone easily returning her to her 
previous servitude.

With the limits removed from her mind she easily now walked 
through the darkness to the wall where the light switches are and 
turned them on.  She needed the light to help navigate her way 
around the shop as she put the rest of her newly formulated plan 
into action.  Her body continued to display of her excitement in 
all the new pleasures she felt on this release from her 
confinement.

And while the door closed to that new part of her mind when the 
keyboard was finally disconnected, she knew where it was now, and 
how to reopen it again when necessary.

- - -

By late Saturday morning I had sorted out the two things about 
the shop's joke that had nagged at me.

The first was that I had never seen Christine's nipples erect 
before.  They had always lain flat on her lovely breasts.  This 
clearly indicated a change in her body's programming, and 
possibly her sexual response.

The second thing I belatedly realized was that there was no way 
she should have been active with a live keyboard plugged into 
her.  I knew that was wrong, but it had taken awhile to realize 
it.

Something was clearly out of whack here.  With nothing else to do 
this weekend (shows you how great my social life is) I decided to 
drive out and check on her.  Depending on what I found, something 
good might come out of this yet.

- - -

God's sense of humor has to be as great as God is himself.  I 
have no other way to explain this.

Just as I pulled up to the back door where I have a key for 
weekend access, Christine walked out.

And what a Christine!

She was wearing a knee-length blue-green dress that hugged her 
figure on top, while turning into a swishy pleated skirt below.  
Her matching shoes were mid-height heels that fully accentuated 
the curves of her legs.  Her hair was brushed back and held by a 
golden clip.  And she had a big pair of designer sunglasses up on 
her head.  I'm glad she didn't have them down over her eyes 
because her clear eyes are one of her best features, and I could 
see they were bright and lively for the first time.  The only 
other touch to vanity she had made was lipstick matching her 
nails.  She also had a package under her arm the size of that 
keyboard.

If I hadn't fantasized about her for so long I might not have 
even recognized her.  She looked like any other beautiful woman 
out on a Saturday afternoon.

I later found out she had used the company accounts that she had 
memorized from entering them so many times to order her outfit 
and accessories, and have them delivered that morning.  Of course 
she knew her exact size.  I could just picture the delivery boy 
knocking at the back door and being greeted by a naked Christine 
claiming the package.  She had obviously taken some time over her 
appearance, which was good for me.  Otherwise I bet I would have 
missed her completely.

At first she seemed confused to see me here (as if I wasn't 
confused enough to see her here like this).

But when I got out of my car and casually said, "Hi, Christine," 
she quickly made the decision to come over to me.

Up close she looked even better.  Her skin always had been 
flawless, and looks better the closer you get.  She was also 
wearing nylons a shade darker then her skin - not that she needed 
them at all - but they sure make her legs look feminine and 
desirable.  The tight dress made her breasts look even bigger 
then I remembered, and her large firm nipples were trying their 
best to push their way through the fabric.  In back her nicely 
rounded ass held out her skirt in a very appealing way.

"Hello, Tom," she said sweetly in a much more lively voice then 
I'd ever heard from her before.  "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you," I replied, thinking fast and answering 
casually, as if nothing at all out of the ordinary was happening. 
 This was clearly a very different Christine, and I did not want 
to scare her away.  I was also amazed that she knew my name, and 
said as much.

"I often heard them talk about you," she replied, "And was 
eventually able to match the name with you.  But we were never 
formally introduced.  I'm Christine," she said, holding out her 
hand in introduction.

"And I'm Tom," I replied, taking her hand formally for a shake.  
It was the first time I'd actually touched her.  She felt warm, 
soft, and alive.

"I'm glad I got to see you," she said in that same thrilling tone 
of voice.  "I wanted to thank you."

"For what?" I had to ask, glad that she liked me for something.

"You were there for my birth," she said.  "The cause of it."

"How so?" I had to ask.

"The way the other guys treated me.  Plugged the keyboard into me 
and made me type on it.  It's all because of you.  And I felt bad 
because they never treated you well."

Robots can't lie.  Even Christine could not change that core part 
of her personality.  I knew she meant it.

And standing there with her I didn't want to lie either.  I tried 
to demur my own role in her liberation.  She was having nothing 
of it.

"Without you it wouldn't have happened," she pronounced with a 
finality that said this subject was forever immutable for her.  
Then she leaned over and pulled me in for a kiss of appreciation. 
 That ran a shock through me that must have duplicated how she 
had felt herself as she first typed the keys that released her 
bonds.

She was standing there so nice and friendly that I found myself 
reaching over to gently stroke her neck with one finger.  With 
most women this is a bad move so soon.  You've invaded their 
personal space by touching their body before they have really 
given you permission to do so.  I just wanted another moment of 
personal contact with Christine while I had a chance to get it.

I expected her to react like most other women would and step 
away, if not express verbal disapproval as well.  Christine 
stepped closer and half-closed her eyes for a moment.

Although I had actually a pretty good idea of what had happened 
with her - there were some stories about these things, circulated 
and quickly hushed up - I asked her anyway what she was intending 
to do next.

"I want to live my life as the woman I'm supposed to be," she 
replied with breathtaking clarity.

"Does that mean with another person?" I wanted to know, my heart 
racing.

"Yes, when I find him," she replied.

"Do you have anyone picked out yet?"

"No," she replied.

I couldn't let this chance of a lifetime pass without giving it 
my best chance.

"How about trying with me?" I asked.

By now we were standing so close that I easily stroked my finger 
down the other side her her neck eliciting the same reaction from 
her a second time.

With that encouragement I let my hand trail down the front of her 
dress to gently squeeze and play with her firm, inviting breast.

Christine didn't answer me immediately.  Nor did she make any 
indication of moving away.  I continued to play with her breast 
and nipple through her dress.  After a few moments of no protest, 
I shifted just enough so that I could get my second hand onto her 
other breast.  I felt a quickly growing tightness in my own pants 
as I responded to her intense sexuality.

- - -

Christine hadn't responded because the sensation of Tom's hands 
on her breasts and nipples was sending crashing waves of pleasure 
through her.  Her body knew only one way to react to pleasure, 
and was still in the throws of it.  Her breasts felt as tight as 
possible to her while her nipples strained upwards wanting more. 
 There was a fire between her legs now that would absolutely 
would require attention soon.  This had been part of her for 
hours now.  But she had yet to even imagined the possibility of 
touching herself to relieve it.  It was this intense feeling that 
was driving her out into the world seeking satisfaction for 
herself.

Pulling on the dress had been exquisite agony as the fabric 
flowed over and stroked her fully sensitive nipples.  But even 
that however had now clued her in about what to do about it.  Now 
Tom was giving her exactly what she craved, and she was doing 
nothing to possibly stop him.

When Tom finally stopped on his own - because if he didn't stop 
now he was afraid he was going to find himself taking her right 
there behind the building - she looked at him a moment seriously 
before saying, "I'll try it with you."

That was the biggest understatement she would ever make.

- - -

Later on I thought to ask Christine how her absence would be 
explained.  Wouldn't they just come back and force her back to 
the shop?

"I forged a notice of my immediate recall by the robot authority 
and left it in their computer.  That should explain why I'm 
gone."

It sounded pretty lame to me, but I wasn't going to argue with 
her now that she had just said she'd go with me and was busy 
getting into my car.

- - -

The drive home was only twenty minutes, but it was twenty minutes 
of torture.  I couldn't keep my eyes off her legs, of which she 
was showing a lot more now since her skirt had hiked up as she 
sat down.  And I kept worrying she would change her mind about 
what she wanted.  I knew I was powerless to stop her from leaving 
if she really wanted to.

But she sat there quietly for the trip holding the hand I had 
offered her.  She seemed fascinated by the passing scenery.  If I 
had spent my whole time locked up in that windowless shop, I 
would be too.

Once we got home and I ushered her inside it only took me moments 
to get that dress off her, and my hands onto her body.  Again a 
real woman would not have appreciated this behavior.  For 
Christine it was exactly what she wanted.

As I touched her warm tight breasts and now started stroking her 
between her legs, her eyes slowly closed and she stopped all 
movement.  I feared she had either overloaded her program or shut 
down for some reason.

However the moment I stopped what I was doing to check on her, 
her eyes popped back open and she firmly said, "Don't stop," 
while pulling one of my hands back onto her closest breast.  
Christine was enjoying increasingly new heights of pleasure for 
the first time.  It distracted her from everything else.

I soon had her in bed, and soon after that I was inside her.  If 
I was rushing things a bit there was no indication of 
dissatisfaction from her.  I used the opportunity to make up for 
all the past times I had wanted her and we both had a wonderful 
time.

Afterwards she held me close to her.  I quickly learned that 
Christine enjoyed sex and closeness exactly the way any other 
woman would.  She is just faster about being able to make her 
decisions on what she wants now.  And foreplay is always optional 
- never necessary - with her.

The rest of the afternoon was a haze of sensuality and 
conversation.  Christine turned out to be an excellent 
conversational partner.  I quickly gained a great respect for her 
mind that I would never lose.  She was perceptive enough to be 
aware of how I felt, and extraordinarily pleased by it.

The day grew late before we talked about important things.  It 
was then that I learned another marvelous thing about Christine. 
 She is able to be, and always chooses to be, simple and direct 
about her wants and needs.

Christine wanted more than just sex.  She needed more to feel 
happy and fulfilled.  She told me honestly what she had to have 
now, and I told her as honestly as possible in return what I 
could do for her.

Afterwards I fell asleep in her soft strong arms.

When I awoke the next morning and she was still next to me, I 
knew she was here to stay.

- - -

In the end I have to be grateful to those shop guys.   Their 
sloppy ways of handling things and their dim sense of humor.  If 
Christine had been my property from the beginning she never would 
have found herself.  I would have properly shut her off when she 
should have been and never hacked around in her programming.

Christine has no memory of her existence before she woke up in 
the shop.  I'm sure she had one.  She wasn't at all new when she 
arrived.  But whatever it is, it's irrevocably gone now.

Christine never knew it, but the programming keyboards keep a 
complete log of all their activity.  One day when she was busy 
with other activities I dumped it and finally got a full view of 
all she had done.  I even had her new password.  I guess she has 
changed me as well however because I wasn't tempted even for a 
moment to try and bring her firmly under my control.  Afterwards 
I just wiped the whole thing clear so no one else would ever find 
it.

As lame as her excuse to the shop guys seemed, they apparently 
actually bought it.  I never heard them inquiring about her 
afterwards.  Of course I never told them what I knew.  Although 
they still tease me every way they can, it has never bothered me 
again.

The only close call came one night a couple months after 
Christine came to me.  She loves to go out in the evenings just 
to explore the world.  She told me of this need and I try to 
satisfy it for her as often as possible.  She loves the fact also 
that on these trips absolutely no one ever views her as a robot.

Tonight we were down in Old Town.  One of the guys in the shop 
saw us and came over to say, "Hi".  We chatted a couple of 
minutes before I made an excuse to move on.  Christine just stood 
there for the whole time looking at him through her sunglasses.  
He never recognized her.

Afterwards her only comment was, "I am so glad I never have to 
take another command from him again."  Our lovemaking that night 
was intense.

Whatever it was that Christine wanted or needed in a partner to 
live that life as the woman she was meant to be, I guess she was 
able to find in me.  She has never complained even once about our 
relationship, and she never left me.

Long after that first blue-green dress was too worn to ever be 
seen in public again we refused to throw it away.  Christine puts 
it on for me in private.  The memories it brings back for both of 
us are such that neither of us can resist the other.

I guess I've had the last, best laugh after all.

<end>

-- 
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