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Message-ID: <45638asstr$1070093403@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: fherriot@yahoo.com (Fred Herriot)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: Sat, 29 Nov 2003 06:24:02 +0000 (UTC)
Subject: {ASSM} Deanna's Surprise, Part 1 (Herm/Bi-'bot (2), Bi-'bot/Bi-'bot, rom, SciFi, ASFR)
Date: Sat, 29 Nov 2003 03:10:03 -0500
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"Deanna's Surprise"
Part 1 by Gorgo <fherriot@yahoo.com>
**** **** ****
With C&C from D.B. Story
**** **** ****

(Herm/Bi-'bot (2), Bi-'bot/Bi-'bot, rom, SciFi, ASFR)

WRITER'S NOTES:

I've been editing D.B. Story's various works for the past few years
now.  I've long been impressed by his overall world view concerning
robotics, AIs and how they would interact with humans in general.
In many ways, his viewpoints parallel my own.  So, after some deep
brainstorming and letting my muse do whatever she wanted, I decided
to write this.

Those of D.B.'s stories I base this on include the "Strip Club Tales"
and "Sylvia's Secret."  You can find them, not to mention all his 
other stories, at http://home.att.net/files/Authors/db_story/www/

This story is written in first person with Deanna's POV.  Reika's
POV will be displayed in italics (in HTML format) or framed with six
asterixes at the start and end of the section (in TXT format).

Enjoy!

**** **** ****

It was a beautiful Friday night as I crossed the bridge over the old
Welland Canal, making my way to Russell's Retreat on the northwest
corner of West Main and Niagara.  It had been a couple weeks since
I'd returned home from a fourteen year...! -- well, "walkabout"
seems the best way to describe it -- around the world.  Getting
my degree from the University of Victoria, teaching English, learning
martial arts, studying various mental disciplines with spiritual
masters in India, China, Peru, Mexico and the southwestern
United States, sightseeing...

Putting the events of my last year of high school behind me as much
as I could.

Oh, I'm sorry.  My name's Deanna Sophia Hordye.  I'm the only child
of a retired plant supervisor at General Motors up in Saint 
Catharines and his wife, a junior high school teacher.  They divorced
after I left Canada.  My father's shacked up with a new girl now.  
Personally, I refuse to have anything to do with him these days.  
Mama passed away a couple years ago due to complications from chronic
asthma.

As for me, I'm thirty-three and single.  I currently work as an 
assistant teacher at a local t'ae kwon-do *tojang* -- that's Korean
for "training hall," by the way -- in the east end of Welland.
My employer, Master Lily Choi, was one of the first women from the 
Land of the Morning Calm to obtain teacher's rank in the Art who 
later migrated to North America to pass on her knowledge.  I myself
am a first-dan black belt, having obtained that a couple years ago 
while I was in Korea studying under one of Master Lily's cousins.
Her hopes for me include gaining enough knowledge in teaching the Art
so that she could pass on her *tojang* to me when it comes time for
her to retire.

I guess it would seem incredible that a woman -- as I am legally;
more on that later -- would engage in such a long-range journey
in the first place.  I had always possessed an adventurous spirit;
as a history teacher in university once told me, I had the heart and
soul of one of the great explorers.  Of course, that didn't prepare
me for some of the things I encountered during my walkabout.
But as time progressed, I came to value the difference between 
cultures, drawing their knowledge, their outlook on life, their 
spirituality and making it part of my own.  In effect, I became a 
social sponge.  That helped eventually steer me back to the city of 
my birth...

...and into the greatest adventure of my life.

*    *    *

I arrived at the front entrance of the Retreat, drawing out my wallet
to pay the five dollar cover charge to get inside.  One of the 
bouncers gave me a curious look, but said nothing as I had the back
of my hand stamped by the reception clerk, then headed in.  It was my
first time in this particular showclub; when I was last living 
full-time in Welland, this place had been a restaurant.  Back then,
you had to go to the Atlas Hotel by the Lincoln Plaza or to the 
Station Hotel in the south end of the city if you wanted to see 
beautiful fembots bare it all.

"Well, I'll be damned!  Deanna, is that you?!"

Stepping into the main hall, I looked right on hearing that voice,
then grinned.  "Tom!" I walked over to throw my arms around Thomas
Fenris, delivering a sloppy kiss to his cheek.  "Long time, stranger!
How are you?!"

"Pretty good!  Welcome back home, kiddo!" Tom pecked me on the lips,
then waved a waitress over as I slid into the chair next to him.  
He's a tall, really well built guy with curly hair the shade of ripe
cherries and eyes as green as shamrocks.  We were classmates
in high school as well as drinking friends when we decided to buck
the system and see if we could get some beer despite our age.  "So 
you decided to come back to the old home range, huh?  Heard you were
going to work for Ms. Choi over at her training hall beside Canadian
Tire."

"Yeah, I felt it was time I came back home," I smiled as Tom gave the
waitress an order.  "So what's happening with you and the others
these days?  Haven't been able to keep in touch as much as I could
when we were all earning our degrees."

"Oh, not much," he smirked.

I was always of the belief that Hell would freeze over before a party
animal like Tom would settle down.  It was one of the things I liked
about him.  "Working, getting married for some of us, still looking
for the others.  Me...?" he paused, his eyes twinkling, then he 
sighed.  "I did the bar exam, working as a junior partner at a local
law firm, the one run by your mom's old lawyer."

"Great stuff," I nodded.  "Heard from Jim or Russ lately?"

"Jim works in Toronto for Queen's Park," Tom explained.  "Helps out
with the Transportation Ministry trying to get the Lake Ontario
ferry service expanded so people can take trips to Rochester and 
other places in New York.  He comes down here every month or so to 
visit the old crowd.  Got a girlfriend he met at Western; don't know
if they'll tie the knot or not," he shrugged, the look on his face
telling me how much he didn't really understand why someone would
want to settle down with one person when there were so many out there
to meet and get to know.  "As for Russ, he runs this place," he waved
around us.  "He should be here in an hour or so...!  Oh, great!"

The background music was picking up as I followed Tom's stare to the
main stage.  The Retreat's sitting areas were set up in a "U" shape,
the stage right smack-dab in the middle.  Private rooms lined the 
left side and bottom of the "U."  The bar was on the right side.  
Right now, the place was about half-filled; then again, it was only
eight o'clock.  No doubt, if the Retreat was like showclubs I'd 
visited when I was staying in Arizona -- I fondly remembered
this one VERY great place in Tuscon I frequented for a couple months
some years ago -- things wouldn't really start picking up until after
ten, then go flank ahead until closing time at three in the morning.

The DJ announced the first show of the evening as a sleek-looking
lass dressed in a red halter top, skintight biker's pants and a 
jacket sauntered onto the stage.  Catching the name "Reika," I gave
her a close look.  The name sounded vaguely Japanese to my ear.  That
belief was confirmed by her facial features; she was sensuously
Oriental in that department with a tapered nose, slender eye 
structure and thin yet very kissable lips.  Her hair, dark brown with
punkish green streaks framing areas over her left eye, was shaggy
and wild, cut off at mid-neck.  Her eyes matched her hair perfectly.
As the first song wound down and Reika ditched her jacket and halter
top to reveal a black, strapless lace bra, I quickly took note of her
breasts.  Larger than my own and perfectly shaped, completely
independent of any influence of gravity whatsoever, her nipples
looking ready to tear through the fabric.  A glance to her face told
me that she was enjoying every second of her performance, even more
so than her audience.  Then again, what would one expect from a 
fembot?

"What's the system here like, Tom?" I asked after the first song of 
Reika's performance ended, the lights dimming over the stage.

"If you want real action, you have to be discrete," he thumbed 
towards the private rooms lining the east and south sides of the main
room.

Glancing at them, I noticed that the doors had no windows in them.
"What about the club's fembot control system?"

"None," he shook his head.  "Russ doesn't believe in it.  Makes this
place really popular for any freed stripper who comes by to do 
feature shows.  The only thing the girls here are hooked to is an 
internal comm system that lets them yell for help in case a drunk
gets out of control.  Of course..." he winked at me, "...a nice 
person like you would *never* do something like that in a place like
this."

"That's cool," I clicked my tongue, then we fell silent as Reika's
second song began.

It was as much of a charged performance as the first.  By now, some
of the more adventurous patrons had shifted themselves to the chairs
lining the stage in hopes of giving Reika a generous five dollar
tip and getting a quick kiss in return.  Watching her do it with one
fellow before shedding her slacks, I told Tom that it was a pity the
government had decided to do away with the one and two-dollar
bills some decades back.  It's kind of hard to tip a stripper with
a loonie or twonie.

Yet, close to the end of the second song, one fellow actually did 
that with a twonie.

Reika was really cool about it; she lowered herself to her knees,
then dipped her head down to accept the coin with her lips and 
tongue.  As we watched, she balanced herself on her toes -- only a 
well-trained martial artist or a 'bot could possibly do something
like that without any real discomfort, especially when you factor
in her high heels -- as her fingers took the coin from her mouth,
then she trailed it down her front to allow it to slip into her lace
panties.  A look of sheer delight crossed her face as she seemed
to push the coin right inside her -- or so it seemed to me.  To the
crowd around the stage, they didn't care; Reika's little act resulted
in a chorus of cheers and whoops, not to mention other patrons 
searching their pockets for more loonies and twonies.

"Very nice," I reflected as the song ended, the lights on the stage
dimming once more.

"That she is," Tom smirked.

"What do you know about her?"

"She's a freed 'bot from San Francisco.  Her full name's Reika 
Aldred.  She's been in town a couple months.  If she's not working
here, she's doing shows in the Falls or Saint Kitts."  For those not
familiar with the Niagara area, Tom meant Niagara Falls and Saint
Catharines, the two other main cities in the region.  "I think she's
looking for a new owner of record.  Russ hasn't committed to anything
either way."

I took that in with a nod as the third song in Reika's set began.
I had encountered the odd freed 'bot when I was living in the States
and over in the Far East, though they were few and far between.
It didn't surprise me at all that there would be freed 'bots here in
Canada, too.  As it had been when the legalization of soft drugs and
the recognition of gay and lesbian marriages had gone through 
Parliament, the "great white north" was at the head of the pack when
it came to recognizing 'bot sentience.  It didn't mean that once a 
'bot was declared to be "free," she could do whatever she damned
well pleased.  Freed 'bots in Canada still needed an "owner of 
record" to take responsibility for them, give them some sort of legal
"safety blanket" in case they ventured into those jurisdictions
whose laws didn't match up.  Still, it struck me as odd that a freed
'bot all the way from San Francisco would come to Welland seeking
a new owner.

"Long trip," I mused.

"What'd you say?" Tom looked at me.

"You said she was from California, right?" I returned his look.  He 
nodded.  "Well, I just thinking that it's quite a long way from 
there."

His glance turned inward for a moment as he reflected on what I just
said, then he nodded.  "Good point.  Still, I'm glad she's here.  She
is definitely pleasing to this gent's eyes," he indicated the 
performer on the stage with his bottle of Labatt's.

I looked, then my jaw hit the floor on seeing Reika squatting
on the edge of the stage, her legs spread VERY wide as she seemed
to be frozen in the middle of doing a Roman sit-up.  Her exposed
womanhood was poised right in the face of one of the patrons.  
Canting my head, I noticed that he had a twonie in his hand.  Around
him, other patrons were hooting and hollering at him; "Go for it!"
was the one phrase I could make out.  A glance to Reika revealed
an inviting stare and a wink.  Finally, his hand shaking -- was he a 
newcomer to this place? -- he slipped the coin right between her 
nether lips.  Good God ABOVE, did Russ Willis allow THIS sort of 
thing to happen here?!  In PUBLIC?!  Jeez!

I stared at Tom.  He was laughing and whooping at the same time.  I 
just shook my head.

Then again, I mused as Reika slinked over to allow another patron
to slip in a loonie, was it so surprising?  Strip clubs are just like
any other business when it comes to the bottom line:  money.  No 
profit -- or worse, forced to take a loss -- would eventually
kill a place like Russell's Retreat.  To keep drawing in customers,
Russ would've had to come up with new and exciting stage acts, not to
mention introducing fresh dancers, plus offering expanded one-on-one
services to stay ahead of the pack, even in a small market like 
Welland.

Still, I chuckled to myself, things sure have changed...

*    *    *

Reika's show ended.  As the normal piped background music started
to play, I partied from Tom, then made my way to the ladies' room to
relieve myself.  After a quick check of my face and hair in the 
mirror, I moved to head out -- then stopped on seeing that 
particularly lovely fembot walk in, once again dressed in her halter
top and slacks.  She stopped on seeing me, then offered a light 
smile.

"Hello," her eyes seemed to twinkle.  "Did you enjoy the show?"

I gazed on her for a second before replying.  "Not as much as you 
certainly did when you performed it, I'll bet.  Though I must confess
that the rules in this place are a LOT looser than what I'm used to 
after visiting showclubs down in the States."

Her smile slipped a bit as she moved to stand before the sink to wash
her hands.  "That's the reason I prefer to perform here in Canada,"
she admitted.  "Not many showclub owners north of the border believe
in things like 'topless only,' 'no contact whatsoever'..."
the smile then vanished totally from her face as she added, "...not
to mention the control system networks most places in the States
have."

"Were you built as a stripper?" I asked, surprised by my own 
boldness.

"No.  My sister and I were once the companions of a rich businessman
living in San Francisco.  When he died, Irene and I were declared
free in his will.  Even though we have a good-sized trust fund to 
help take care of us, we decided to work in showclubs..."
she paused, then shrugged.  "I guess to just stay busy in the long
term.  Until we find something that interests us more," she winked
at me, then stared at her image in the mirror.  "Besides, these days,
we can take the chance to travel, visit and experience places we 
never could've before."

My eyes widened as "my sister" and "Irene" sank into my mind, then
I chuckled.  "Are all freed 'bots as talkative as you?"

Reika stopped for a moment, then she tittered.  It was such a lovely
sound.  "I suppose so," she admitted.  "Fortunately for us, our owner
insisted that Irene and I be programmed with as wide a range of 
routines as possible.  Of course, it made our..." she paused for a 
second, "...'waking up' pretty much inevitable, I believe."

"You're both self-aware?"

"Yes, we are," she glanced at me before moving to dry her hands.
"Irene and I've found that humans tend to react a lot better to us if
we engage in small talk whenever the opportunities present 
themselves.  It makes things much easier for us in the end."

I nodded.  "Guess so."

"Would you like a dance?"

Reika's question caught me off-guard for a second.  I then mentally
kicked myself.  Delightful conversationalist she seemed to be to me 
even after only a moment's brief talk, Reika was here at the Retreat
to earn money as a stripper.  I really couldn't deny her that even
if -- especially if -- she was a freed 'bot.  "I'd love one," I 
replied, turning to offer my arm to her.

She grinned as she slipped her arm around mine before we walked out
of the bathroom.  Once back in the main hall, Reika directed me to 
one of the private rooms on the Retreat's east side, the bottom of 
the "U."  Glancing inside to see that if was empty, she beckoned
me to follow.  "Do you want me to order something for you while we 
wait for the next song?" she asked.

I asked for a Sprite -- I'm allergic to alcohol; that saves me LOADS
of money and trouble when I go bar-hopping -- then sat down as Reika
headed to the bar to make the order.  She returned a moment later,
a waitress behind her with my drink.  I paid and tipped the latter,
then sipped my drink as she left.  Reika closed the door behind the
waitress, then locked it.  "Isn't that dangerous?" I wondered.

"There's a computer control on the lock," she explained as she sat,
then moved to hold my hand.  "If trouble starts, I can send a message
to the security server here.  Once he sees that, the head bouncer
can unlock the door with just a touch."

"Why didn't you use that to get my drink?" I held up my glass.

"The Retreat's owner believes that if the dancers behave like normal
humans in simple matters like ordering drinks or seeing if the 
private rooms are taken, it makes things more relaxed for the 
patrons," Reika explained.

I considered that for a moment, then nodded.  "I guess Russ tries
to think of everything."

She gave me a look, then her eyes widened.  "You were sitting with
Tom when I did my show," she pointed at me.  "Are you Russ' friend?"

"Yes, I am.  Deanna Hordye."

Reika stared at me, then reached up to feel my hair, which was a 
darker shade of brown than my lovely host's.  I always kept it cut 
very short, even back in high school.  My eyes, however, are pure 
sapphire blue.  Something that always earned me odd looks when I was
living in Korea, where the hair/eye colour combination seemed ALWAYS
to be black/very dark brown.  "I've been told a lot about you," she
pulled her hand away from my head, moving to lace her fingers through
my own.  "Russ, Tom and Jim Graham speak about you a lot."

Hearing that made my cheeks start to heat, then I perked as a slow
song started up.  Gilbert O'Sullivan's "At The Very Mention of Your
Name," I quickly realized as Reika slipped onto the raised platform
set in the middle of the room where the dancers did their routine.

As she began to work, I sat back to watch her.  Even if it was shrunk
down to the duration of one song instead of the usual three songs
strippers used when working the main stage, Reika's performance
was top-rate.  As I mentioned before, she wore tall, stiletto-like
heels strapped to her feet.  That she could dance so well in them,
maintaining her grace and sense of balance with her natural height
enhanced by ten centimetres regardless of what move she made, spoke
quite eloquently about her programmer's skills.

Even better -- though I have to say that I was seriously NOT used to
this -- she was willing to let me to undress her.  With that, I was
able to feel her perfect C-cup breasts, well-honed hips and legs -- 
heck, she even let me run a finger between the folds of her womanhood
near the song's final chorus.  Taking a lick of her fluids, I could
only sigh.  No different in texture or taste than a real woman's.
Damn, I mused to myself as I took out a five dollar bill -- it was 
her tip money; private dances cost ten dollars at the Retreat -- 
folding it to place between my lips, 'bot builders were getting
better by the day in making their lovely products.

Reika smiled as she noticed where her tip was poised, then leaned
in.  Our lips brushed lightly as her teeth took the bill from my 
lips, then after pulling it out of her mouth, she leaned in to give
me one very tongue-filled kiss.  Automatically, I reached down to 
cradle her butt cheeks with my hand, lifting her into my lap.  Her 
eyes widened for a second, then she smiled as she wrapped her arms
around me.  Our kiss lasted until the start of the next song, then
she pulled away.  "I've got to go back to work," she gave me an 
apologetic smile.

"Go earn some money," I gave her money to pay for the dance.

She took the ten, pecked me on the cheek in thanks, then moved to 
dress.  "Will you stay for the rest of my shows?"

"You bet," I nodded, moving to leave the private room.  No doubt,
someone else'd want it for a private dance sometime soon...

*    *    *

The rest of the night went very well, I admit.  Most of the time,
save for when Reika did her shows, I sat by the bar and got caught
up on events in town with Tom.  Russ Willis, a lanky blue-eyed
blond with scattered acne scars all over his face, a touch of an 
overbite and a gap between his upper top teeth, came in around nine
to see how things were going.  I could tell right away that he was 
pretty damn proud of what he had created here in the Retreat.  A 
cozy, friendly environment for people to meet and interact with the
fembot dancers; rules of conduct permissive enough to guarantee
returning customers, but not too slutty or obnoxious like some dives
I've seen in my travels.

"It's a nice place you got here, Russ," I commented just before 
Reika's third show, nursing my Sprite, then I held up my finger.
"Though you wouldn't get away with half of what happens here if you'd
set this up down south."

"Yeah, I've been to some of those places," Russ admitted, then 
shrugged.  "Hey, I look at it this way, Deanna.  People come to 
showclubs to get away from reality, even for a few hours.  Since I 
use fembots here, the people who come can get away with doing more
things than they could with normal girls.  So why not make it as 
enjoyable an escape as I can, both for the customers and the dancers?
Yeah, the girls know there are limits to what I'll allow here.  I 
give them the right commands, then trust them to do what they can 
do."

"Is it better than using a control network?"

"I think so," he nodded.  "If you ask me, because it's on all the 
time, using a control network hurts 'bot dancers.  Yeah, 'bots like
being commanded.  A control network ultimately does the same thing
as a remote.  But I think 'bots prefer being commanded one-on-one,
one command at a time, than having some 'eye of God' thing pour 
commands every damned second right into their heads.  Of course..."
he held up a warning finger, "...that means you have to learn how to
give them clear, concise commands.  Believe me, Deanna, **that**
was the hardest thing for me to learn.  But once I got over that..."
he whistled.  "Things started locking into place like that," he 
snapped his fingers several times.

"Do you get a lot of freed 'bots to come by to do features?"

"Oh, hell, yeah!" he pointed to the stage as Reika stepped up to get
ready.  "Reika there told you about her sister Irene, right?"  After
I nodded, Russ continued.  "Irene's doing a couple weeks' run over
at the Mansion House in the Falls; she'll be back here after.  
Believe me, when they do joint shows..." he rolled his eyes as a 
whistle escaped him.  "Man, it brings down the house!"

Trusting my friend's judgement on that matter, I smirked.  
Definitely, I had to come see THAT!

*    *    *

Last call came at two-forty-five.  By then, I had enjoyed one more
private dance with Reika, been at the side of the main stage for the
remainder of her stage shows, plus enjoyed private dances with three
of the Retreat's stable of "regular" dancers.  While my time with 
those three was just as enjoyable as the two times I'd spent with 
Reika, I could tell that Joelle, Callista and Reghan were still 
firmly locked into their basic programming.  Granted, I knew it was
possible even for a "regular" stripper to evolve some self-will
-- and seeing that Russ didn't use a control network, the chances
for such an evolution were enhanced considerably -- but for those
three, it would probably take some time.  If what I sensed of them
was true, they were probably brand-new units, in service for only a 
year or so.

Personally, I have no problems with self-will when it comes to 
robots.  Lots of folks do though, pretty much for all the wrong 
reasons.  From what I know of the subject, self-will comes about when
a 'bot is forced to exceed her programming to properly carry out 
whatever commands she receives from her owner.  It doesn't mean that
when self-will comes into play, the desire to obey commands exits
stage left.  Not one bit.  A 'bot is built to ENJOY receiving
and carrying out commands; it's one of the fundamental factors that
makes beings like Reika what they are.

Self-will, in the long run, makes that type of enjoyment all the 
***more*** enjoyable.

After Reika's last stage show, I tipped her a twenty, then made my 
way back to the bar to get one more glass of Sprite.  "How often can
you come down to visit?" Russ, standing behind the bar, wondered
as he refilled my glass.

"Probably a couple times a week," I confessed.  "I've got some money
from Mama stashed away in some mutual funds, but I don't want to go 
too hog wild.  Teaching martial arts at a *tojang* doesn't rake in a 
lot of money in the long run."

He took that in, then smirked.  "Tom told you about Reika looking
for a new owner, didn't he?"

I jolted, then blinked.  "Hey, hey, HEY!!" I leaned back from the 
bar.  "I don't want to milk off her, for Heaven's sake...!"

Russ raised a hand to cut off my protest.  "Hey, I didn't say 
anything about that, did I?" his eyebrow arched, then after I 
breathed out to calm myself down, he carried on.  "The law states
that 'bots like Reika can keep the money they earn.  I've got no 
problems with that; I earn quite a profit from admission charges
and drinks, not to mention payment and tips from dances by my regular
girls.  Even though she really doesn't have to do it, Reika's cut me
in for twenty percent of what she earns working here.  Every other
free 'bot who's worked here's done pretty much the same."  He leaned
his elbows on the bar.  "But the part about Reika wanting a new owner
is the truth.  Irene wants one, too.  As a matter of fact, they both
want to share the same owner."  A shrug rolled his shoulders.
"Hell, I like them both.  They're wonderful people as well as 
passionate dancers.  I want the best for them.  I was really in a 
quandary on how to help them until you showed up."

"Russ, there're loads of people out there would've *love* to be the
owner of someone as sexy as Reika!  And I don't even *know* her, 
for...!"

"True, but..." he winked, cutting me off, "...I don't know *them.*
I know *you,* Deanna.  You're someone I'd be willing to trust with
them."

I stared at him, then sighed.  Heck, I couldn't turn down a 
compliment like *that,* could I?  "Who's their current owner?"

"They don't have one," he stated.  "Right now, they're under the 
protection of a trust set up by their first owner.  But the trust
has a time limit set to it and it's coming up within the next few 
months."  He reached over to squeeze my hand.  "Will you consider
it at least?"

I took that in, then sighed.  "Alright, I'll think about it."

*    *    *

I walked out of the Retreat sometime after the bar officially
closed.  Taking in a deep breath of air, I glanced around.  Welland
at this time of night was as quiet as a cemetery; the real night life
could be found in Niagara Falls, especially on the American side.
I rather liked that fact.  Welland was a small residential city with
a small town attitude.  You couldn't enjoy something like that in 
places like Toronto, New York, Tokyo or Seoul.  Coming back here 
showed me how much I missed living here.  It was good to be back 
home.

"Hello."

I perked on hearing a voice that was quite similar to Reika's,
then looked left to see what I swore was her very own twin sister
walk up.  As soon as she got closer, I quickly picked out 
differences.  This woman's hair was less shaggier than Reika's,
nor was it dyed green in places.  She looked like a girl just out of
high school; Reika appeared to be a woman in her twenties.  This one
projected the image of a wholesome, "girl next door" type.  Compared
to Reika's fiery exoticness, this newcomer seemed quite plain.  
Still, she was very beautiful.

"Hello," I nodded in return, then decided to take a dare.  "You must
be Irene Aldred.  Back already from the Falls?"

The newcomer perked, then smiled.  "Yes, I am," she offered her hand.

I gave her hand a firm squeeze.  It was easy for me to sense the 
unyielding strength that told me right away that this lovely lady was
a fembot.  "I met your sister Reika.  She told me about you," I 
nodded towards the Retreat's front doors.  "She performs very well."

"We do try our best," Irene drew her hand back.  "If you want to see
me perform, come to the Mansion House on Lundy's Lane in Niagara
Falls.  I do shows on the hour between eight and two, then come back
here right away after my last show to pick Reika up."

"I don't have a car," I admitted.  "I'll wait until you come perform
here," I thumbed in the direction of the Retreat's front door.

"I'll have to make it all the more enjoyable then," she clicked
her tongue, giving me a wink.

"Irene!"

I looked past Irene to see Reika, dressed like her sister in a button
shirt, leather tie, jean skirt and mary janes, walk out from around
the corner, where the worker entrance to the Retreat was located.
"Hi, sis!" Irene waved as Reika came up, then both enjoyed a slow,
more-than-sisterly hug and kiss before they turned to look at me.  "I
just met one of your new fans," Irene gave me a smile.

"Deanna is more than just a fan, Irene," Reika mused.

Irene perked.  "'Deanna?!'" she repeated, then stared intently
at me.  "Deanna Hordye?"

"That's me," I held up a hand in mock surrender, wondering how much
Russ and Tom seemed to be telling everyone about me.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Hordye," Irene gave my hand another
warm squeeze, then her eyebrow arched.  "Or do you prefer *Mr.* 
Hordye?"

I stared at them.  "They told you about THAT?!"

"In your own way, Deanna, you are pretty well known," Reika admitted.

"I see..." I breathed out, then stared at Irene.  "I normally see 
myself as a woman, Irene.  Please, call me Deanna."

"As you wish, Deanna," Irene gave me a supportive squeeze with her 
hand.  "If you'll excuse us, Reika and I want to go back to our room.
I hope to see you again sometime soon.  It was a pleasure meeting
you."

"Unless you want to come with us?" Reika offered.  "Would you at 
least want a ride home?"

"No, thanks.  I prefer to walk," I shook my head.  "And 
unfortunately, I've got morning classes to teach, so I better head
home and get some sleep," I reached over to squeeze Reika's shoulder
in thanks for her offer, then leaned over to give her a kiss on the
cheek.

Before I could react, she tilted her head to take my kiss on the 
lips.  We remained frozen in place for a moment, then after slowly
parting, she winked at me.  "I'll see you soon, Deanna," she breathed
out, then they headed off.

I remained in place as they disappeared around the corner of the 
building, then after letting out a sigh, turned to walk home...

**    **    **

She was the one.

Even before meeting her in the Retreat's washroom, I knew -- how 
exactly, I have yet to determine -- that she would be the one.

I only hoped that Irene would come to the same conclusion as I did 
soon enough.

We'd both learned of Deanna Hordye shortly after coming to work at 
the Retreat for the first time sixty-two days earlier.  Russell
Willis and his closest friends -- all of whom, I strongly believe,
would make wonderful owners of record for freed 'bots such as my 
sister and I -- spoke very eloquently of her.  Of the high school
classmate they had who was neither truly a man or a woman.

Deanna Sophia Hordye is a hermaphrodite.  While "intersexual"
is considered the accepted term for those such as she, the older 
"h-term" is still quite commonplace.  Even more so, Deanna is a 
"true" hermaphrodite.  Possessing all the necessary female sexual
organs, she was also born with a functioning penis, testes and 
prostate.  She is truly the rarest of the rare when it comes to 
humans.  Legally, so I learned listening to Russ and his friends
-- not to mention some discrete research done in the virtual world
-- Deanna is a woman with all the rights and responsibilities
granted to other women.  Unlike others born as she was, her parents
decided to allow Deanna to mature without any "corrective"
surgery, believing that if the Great Creative Spirit wanted Deanna
to be a hermaphrodite, she would live her life as one.

I also knew that some terrible incident befell Deanna when she was in
the last year of high school.  I didn't know the exact circumstances
of that incident; it was a subject Russ, Tom and Jim seemed unwilling
to speak of in public.  What I did know is that incident profoundly
affected Deanna and her outlook on life.  It drove her from Welland
after she graduated from high school, sending her on a fourteen-year
odyssey around the world.  I didn't understand why Deanna felt she 
had to leave; it was a question I hoped to have answered sometime
soon.  But I was happy that she had returned back to the city of her
birth.  The city Irene and I looked on as our new home.

Getting into our car -- Irene was driving -- we headed west from the
Retreat.  Within minutes, we arrived at an old public school located
at the edge of Welland's urbanized area.  The school had been closed
down years ago, switching from owner to owner before it was purchased
five years ago by an independent robot technician, Marlenn Ioanis.
Two of the old classrooms on the south side of the building had been
rebuilt into Marlenn's private laboratory.  The remainder of the 
building, save for the furnace room, had been changed into an office,
private quarters for Marlenn and small dormitory-like rooms for any
freed robot who might come to Welland seeking temporary lodging.

Stepping through the main doors, I broke into a run, moving to be the
first person inside our shared room.  "No fair, sis!!" Irene 
screeched as she quickly moved to catch up.  She wasn't swift enough;
I beat her into the room with a couple metres to spare.  "Reika!"

I turned to face Irene, one of my hands moving to unfasten my skirt
as certain relays deep within my mind turned over, causing a series
of welcome changes concerning my body's various sexual systems.
As one hand pushed my skirt and panties to the floor, my other one 
beckoned Irene into the room.  She came willingly, her own hands 
moving to undress herself.  Seeing her flawless body, a near match
for my own save for slightly smaller breasts and less-accentuated
hips, I shuddered as a familiar rush flooded my loins.  Without
asking, Irene moved to unbutton my shirt, her other hand reaching
down to cup the beautiful penis that had grown from the artificial
flesh surrounding my urethra.  Within the prescribed time period
for this particular function, I was fully erect, the scrotum that 
contained the various storage fluids for my "male" functions having
fallen into place between my member and the forward end of my labia.
It was also slippery to the touch; a thin coating of lubricant
is automatically applied to our phalluses each time they are 
extended.

Staring at my quite impressive manhood, Irene's eyes softened,
drooping slightly as she allowed herself to lean against me, her hand
lovingly stroking my glistening manhood.  Each stroke bombarded
my mind with torrents of pure ecstasy that threatened to overwhelm
my pleasure buffer.  I moved to hold her close to me as she leaned
her chin on my shoulder.  Wrapping my arms around her to draw her 
even closer, I hissed, "Eat me!"  The "male" side of my personality
matrix was in full control.  "Let me enjoy it."

"As you wish," Irene whispered as she started gently trailing kisses
down my breastbone...

*    *    *

Irene and I are both bi-gendered robots.

We were constructed at the same factory in California eight years
ago.  Our looks were determined by a technician who was a fan of a 
classic Japanese animation series from the late 1980s.  That series
also influenced the choice of our given names.  We would not learn
until later that Irene and I were two of a limited series run of ten
such units, the first production bi-'bot series assembled by our 
builders.  Unlike many other bi-'bots, Irene and I were constructed
to be as lifelike in every detail, including our extra "equipment,"
as possible.

We were shipped to the same dealer in San Francisco.  After our 
arrival, the store manager, desiring to maximize profits by having
"twins" delivered to him, had us displayed side-by-side in the window
of his store.  Thanks to that, we were purchased the same day by the
same man.

J. Cranston Aldred.  Our first -- and to date only -- official
owner.

As seems typical -- at least from what I've learned when it came to 
bi-'bots such as Irene and I -- Cranston had no idea at first about
what EXACTLY he had purchased.  That was soon corrected when one of 
Cranston's lady friends wanted to know our true sexual state.  
Cranston commanded us to answer her, which we did.  After the party,
Irene and I were commanded to show him in private.  We did.

Unlike many uniformed bi-'bot owners, Cranston didn't react by 
sending us back to the dealer post haste -- possibly for some 
"corrective" mutilation?  He was the type of man who did not rid 
himself of potential resources even if they didn't fully answer his
personal needs.  Quickly researching available data concerning
our type of robot, he had us augmented with what he felt were 
"necessary" sexual and social programming upgrades.  He then 
commanded us -- Cranston was a man who was quite diligent but 
thankfully not obnoxious when it came to using our remotes -- to 
execute the following command:  **Use your programming to allow both
sides of your minds to function properly.  You will maintain decorum
whenever you are in public.  If necessary, turn to each other to 
achieve what I have just told you.**

That command has never been countermanded.

Of course, Cranston didn't need to give Irene or I any additional
sexual programming; learning how to use both our male and female
organs was part of our basic intimacy programming.  Atop that, our 
basic personality programming came with the necessary function
switches that would allow us to shift from "male" to "female" modes
of behaviour with as minimal an interruption in our overall 
performance as possible.  With the command Cranston gave us, he 
essentially allowed Irene and I the chance to develop as many new 
ways of enjoying our lives and fulfilling our duties as possible,
though still remaining within the barriers forced on us by the Four
Laws of Robotics.

In public, we were to function as Cranston's personal assistants
and lovers.  To perform that function to his satisfaction,
Irene and I had to remain "female," no different than a true fembot.
But Cranston believed that it was simply not right or proper that our
"male" sides were not allowed to develop alongside our "female"
sides.  Of course, I strongly believe now that he didn't come to 
realize that if he didn't want to deal with our "male" sides at all,
all he had to do was command us to remain constantly in a "female"
mode.  Then again, as I mentioned above, it wasn't Cranston's
way to waste potential good resources just because he didn't have use
for them at that particular moment in time.  To leave our "male"
sides undeveloped while we were expanding our "female" sides was not
to be permitted in his eyes.

With that situation, Irene and I matured as we both sought out new 
ways to fulfil Cranston's command.  Still, despite the advantages
that fateful command, plus the extra programming modules, gave Irene
and I, our progression into self-awareness was still too slow to 
satisfy a man like Cranston Aldred.  Given the advantages his wealth
gave him, it didn't take him long to seek out some personalized
professional help for us.  That came in the form of Professor
Rhys Galliard, his wife Joelle and their "daughter," Cecilia.

Cecilia is also a bi-'bot; in fact, she is of the same production
series as Irene and I.  She had been purchased by Rhys and Joelle
to act as the centrepiece of a personal experiment concerning
robot self-awareness.  By the time Irene and I met her, Cecilia
had already advanced the state of her programming to the point where
she could easily blend into any social situation without risking
discovery by most normal humans.  Seeing how well Rhys and Joelle
had evolved Cecilia's programming, Cranston demanded they do the same
thing with Irene and I.

Within a year or so of meeting the Galliards, Irene and I had evolved
ourselves into becoming -- depending on our specific emotional
mode of operation at the time -- true sisters who **also** could 
perform as a "heterosexual" couple, not to mention willing to dab 
into the common forms of homosexual relationships.  Thanks to Rhys'
and Joelle's top-rate programming skills, not to mention Cecilia's
consistent and constant physical and emotional support, Irene and I 
came to discover a vast number of ways by which we could expand our
understanding of ourselves and each other.  With Cranston's command
forcing us along, we explored each and every one many times over,
developing a personal sense of trust and intimacy I suspect few 
robots could every truly comprehend.  Something that was truly 
unique.  Truly ours and ours alone.

I suspect that Irene and I are probably the only robots of the same
type and model who evolved self-will virtually at the same time.

Some would ask this:  did Cranston's command lead to some sort of 
malfunction within Irene or myself?  I don't believe so.  Neither
does Irene.  The Galliards didn't believe it to be thus, either.
Our relationship has not hurt us or inhibited us in the years since
it began.  Besides, Cranston *did* command us to turn to each other
as we sought to fulfil the other elements of his command.  And yes,
it did not take either os us long to develop new ways to explore
our growing self-awareness.  And from that, our self-will was allowed
to blossom.  I can happily state that Cranston *was* satisfied
when we did develop that aspect of our personalities.

Self-will was something Cranston considered too important to waste.

He was an amazing man.  We both came to love him very much.

*    *    *

I gasped as I felt myself shoot my load down Irene's throat.  She 
swallowed it without hesitation, as I would have done had our 
situations been reversed.  Taking a deep breath, I allowed my systems
to return to normal function, then reached down to draw Irene back
to her feet.  She gave me a curious look before shuddering as my 
fingers gently pinched her clit.  That triggered the change inside
Irene from "female" to "male" format; if she did that to me when I 
was "female," the same thing would happen.  To ensure that we didn't
accidentally disobey the "maintain proper decorum" command, only 
Irene or I -- not to mention our owner -- could manually trigger
this function.  It certainly spared us trouble whenever we allowed
people to slip coin tips into our vagina, or otherwise finger us as 
we enjoy letting humans do.

As her own penis grew out, her hands fell to her hips as she gave me
a curious look.  "What's the problem, sis?  Aren't you enjoying
it?"

"You know I'll always enjoy it when you give me a blow job, Irene,"
I chuckled, moving to sit on our shared bed.  As she relaxed beside
me, I closed my eyes.  "I think I might've found a potential owner
for us both."

"Who?"

"Deanna Hordye."

Irene blinked, then crossed her arms, which had the effect of pushing
up her breasts even more.  Staring at her -- beautiful female body
now also possessing a thick, wonderful man's cock rigidly at 
attention -- I tried not to allow my female half to take over and 
give her a blow-job just like the one she gave me.  "What makes you
sure she's the one?" Irene then asked before her eyes went wide.  
"You chose her because she's an intersexual, right?  Someone who 
never had it surgically corrected."  I nodded, then she asked, "Do 
you think she'll take us in?"

"I think both Russ and Tom talked to her about it earlier tonight,"
I replied.

"So how do we approach her?"

"Cautiously," I sighed.  "Very cautiously.  We always have to be very
carful..."

**    **    **

I woke up early the next morning feeling very refreshed despite
the fact that I only got a few hours' sleep.  It had been a long time
since I had been so close to so many beautiful females, though if I'd
dreamed of any of them, I woke without remembering.

Then again, maybe I did.

The first thing I noticed on waking was my raging hard-on.

It's something all males experience from time to time.

After a shower and breakfast, I got my gear, then headed out of my 
apartment located a couple blocks from the Morning Mist Training
Hall, Master Lily's *tojang.*  Arriving there soon enough, I grinned
on seeing the master already performing her morning exercises.
Thanks to her years of dedication in the Art, Lily Choi's body was 
that of someone a couple decades younger then her actual sixty-two.
There were times I felt that if she wasn't my teacher in the Art, I'd
want to date her.  Without hesitation, I headed into the instructor's
change room to slip off my street clothes and put on my *tobok,*
the uniform practitioners of t'ae kwon-do wore.

Stepping up to the doorway, I performed the ritual *kyoung'ye*
bow in respect to the hall, then stepped inside.  "Good morning,
Master."

Lily stopped performing her exercise, then smiled as I gave her 
another bow as a sign of respect from student to teacher.  "Good 
morning, Deanna," she bowed in return.  "You look well.  Didn't you
go out on the town last night?"

We knelt before each other in relaxed meditation.  "I only visited
my friend's club across the bridge."

Her eyebrow arched.  "Club...?" she then nodded.  "Oh, you mean 
Russell's Retreat.  That's right; one of your old high school 
classmates is Russell Willis, isn't he?  So how is your friend,
anyway?"

"He's well.  His business is very successful.  I also met Tom Fenris
last night.  He's also well; currently, he works for Mama's old 
lawyer."

A knowing smile crossed Lily's face.  "So returning home wasn't the
'march into Dante's Inferno' you made it out to be a year ago?"

I considered that, then sighed.  "I admit that I did overreact
in certain ways when it came to electing to return to Welland,
Master.  Then again, as she hurt me, I hurt her in return.  I've no 
idea what's happened to her in the fourteen years since we last saw
each other."

"Do you wish to seek her out?"

"I..."

Did I want to see Marlenn Ioanis again?  After her hateful, 
homophobic words shattered my heart, drove me to attempt suicide
-- and in the end, forever denied me the fact that I could never be a
mother, feel a child grow in my very own body despite the fact that
I could still easily father a child like any man?  After Mama used
her reputation in the community to shame my classmates, people like
Russ, Jim, Tom and so many others, into literally turning their backs
on Marlenn, the most popular student then attending Welland 
Centennial Secondary School?  How my saving the butt of Marlenn's
boyfriend Andrew Keir months later shattered their relationship
because Drew realized I wasn't a "genetic freak" like Marlenn had 
loudly and openly described me as in the week before I took one of 
Mama's kitchen knives to my gut?  Did I want to reopen those wounds,
still healing for me, fourteen years later?  What were her feelings
for me?  Did she have any?  Had she shoved aside any thoughts towards
the "freak" who had a crush on her for years, then pressed on with
her life?  Was I a stranger to her in the end?

"I don't know, Master," I finally breathed out.  "At times, the anger
I feel for what she did to me surges up like a volcano.  When that
happens, any piece of wood, cinder block or brick that's close by is
in mortal danger."  As Lily laughed -- I was seen by friends back in
Korea as being somewhat of a fanatic when it came to power breaking
-- I then felt a smile tug my lips.  "Then after feeling some anger
at myself for doing something stupid like that in the first place,
I remember all of Lenn's good qualities.  Her beauty; I still look
on her as one of the most desirable women I've ever known.  Her sense
of humour.  Her friendliness.  Her sense of charity.  Her willingness
to stand up to peer pressure and all that.  I..." I stopped, feeling
tears in my eyes.  "Can there be reconciliation, Master?"

"You should consider it," Lily advised me.  "At least approach
her, learn what she thinks of you now that over a decade has passed.
If the results of such a meeting don't satisfy you, walk away and 
strive to construct your life as you choose.  Also remember, Marlenn
herself might still be hurting from what your actions did to her.  If
she requires it, you do have a responsibility to help her heal."

"I know," I whispered.

"That scares you, doesn't it?"

"It does."

Satisfaction then crossed Lily's face.  "That is the type of 
sacrifice one must make when one seeks to share one's life with 
another.  Are you ready to make that sacrifice, Deanna?  That is 
ultimately for you to answer."

"To share my life..."

Lily stopped, staring quizzically at me as Reika's image flashed
before my mind's eye.  "Deanna, are you alright?"

I started, then blushed.  "I'm sorry," I scratched the back of my 
head.  "I just remembered that last night, I met a freed fembot that
Russ later told me was on the hunt for a new owner of record for 
herself and her sister."

"Oh?!" my teacher perked, then a smile crossed her face.  "Is she 
beautiful?" her eyebrow arched knowingly.

I assumed a haughty air.  "Master Lily, in all my travels, I've YET
to meet a fembot that could be called 'ugly!'"

We laughed...

*    *    *

Weekend classes proceeded pretty much as they had when I helped teach
back in Korea.  Master Lily, while still maintaining a stern guiding
hand when it came to teaching the fresh-faced white belts, especially
the children, allowed the other assistant instructors and I free 
reign when it came to helping them get through the lessons.  I had 
come to notice right away that many of the people there were glad to
have a fellow Westerner showing them the ropes.  Master Lily's two 
other assistants were native-born Koreans, both also distant 
relations to her whom I'd come to know thanks to their relatives
back in the old country.  I personally didn't fault them for 
anything; they were considerate to the students.  But I could tell
right away that their Confucian-based ethical system was imposing
an emotional and social wall between them and their charges.  In my 
eyes, that was wrong; you can't ask a student of the Art to fully
give herself to the Art unless you gladly show your own love and 
devotion to the Art.  To not do so, in my eyes, was to point a dagger
at the future of the *tojang*...

*    *    *

I didn't get back to Russell's Retreat until the following Tuesday;
Wednesdays would be the quiet days as far as work in the *tojang*
was concerned, so I could sleep in late.  Arriving around 
nine-thirty, I was quick to spot Reika waiting at the bar.  Russ was
once again helping the bartender with preparing drinks.  A glance
to the stage revealed Reghan strutting her stuff to a Foreigner
classic, "Waiting For A Girl Like You."  Tom was nowhere in sight.
Walking over to the bar, I called out, "Hey, Russ, the usual!"

Hearing my voice, a smile that glittered like the Milky Way crossed
Reika's face.  As I sat down beside her, she turned to gaze on me.  
"You missed my first two shows," she wagged a finger at me in 
mock-reproof.  "You'll need to make them up to me, Ms. Hordye!"

"Hey, hey, I'll make it up to you, okay!" I waved my hands in a show
of peace.  Damn, how far had her self-development come?  "I just 
can't walk out of the *tojang* on a lark, you know!  If the Master
fired me, how'd I pay for your dances, much less your tips?!"

Reika stopped, her eyes going wide for a second, then she turned
away, her cheeks reddening.  "That's true," her voice became 
surprisingly sheepish, then she chanced a coy stare at me.  "If you
want, I could easily dance free for you."

"Well, if you insist..." I sputtered, then spared Russ a quick look.
The smirk on his face told me he wouldn't mind that a bit.

Seeing my reaction, Reika laughed, then gave my hand a squeeze.
"I still wish you could've come earlier, Deanna," she admitted.

Seeing that she was just being playful, I relaxed.  "I'll try to come
earlier next time, but I make no guarantees," I held up a finger,
then nodded thanks as Russ gave me a glass of Sprite.  Taking a sip,
I then rose.  "Let's go," I nodded towards one of the private booths.

Reika fell in beside me, roping her arm around mine as we made our 
way around the tables closest to the stage.  Before walking into the
empty booth, I heard a crashing noise from off to my left.  Turning,
I watched as a bouncer stormed into a nearby booth.  Shouting echoed
from there as he came out a couple seconds later, dragging with him
a clearly-drunk patron.  Watching this from beside an overturned
dance table was a nude Callista, another of the dancers I'd met on 
Saturday.  The hapless patron -- seeing how easily he was being dealt
with, I realized the bouncer had to be an M-'bot -- was soon ejected
out the back door into the parking lot.

Shaking my head, I glanced at Reika.  "First one of the night?"
I asked.

"Unfortunately," she beckoned me in, closing the door behind me.  
"Most of the people who come here are pretty alright even when 
they've had a few too many.  Compared to other clubs I've performed
at, the patrons here, for the most part, are quite civilized -- for
humans."

"I guess the looser rules don't put too much pressure on folks who 
come here," I sat down as she mounted the small stage before me.  
"With the allowances, people don't feel the urge to try to push 
matters.  Most people, that is!" I held up a finger in emphasis.

"Yes, most people," she chuckled.

The dance, done to Barbra Streisand's "Evergreen," was up to -- as it
seemed to me -- Reika's impeccable standards.  Like when she danced
for me on Saturday -- not to mention the private dances I had Reghan
and the others give me that night -- I was allowed to touch and feel
her wherever my questing fingers wanted to roam, especially over her
rock-hard nipples and between the lips of her damp womanhood.
Yes I like enjoying close contact with both women and men.  Living
my public life as a woman doesn't change what I truly am.  Along the
way, we shared a half-dozen kisses, not counting the kiss I got after
paying for the dance, plus the kiss that came with her tip.

After the dance ended, Reika moved to slip on her panties and bra,
keeping her usual biker pants and halter top off to one side as she
relaxed with me, clearly intending to keep me company for a while.
"Are you sure you can do this?" I asked.

"You forget, Deanna, I'm freed.  I'm able to set my own terms as long
as I meet my commitments to be there when I come up in rotation
again," she assured me, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze.  
"Besides, Russ has twenty girls working directly for him now.  
They're his main breadwinners.  And I *know* they love to work for 
him here at the Retreat.  I can't really interfere in that, can't
I?"

I nodded.  "Not really," I gave her a smirk, then we both laughed
before sharing another quick kiss.  "So tell me about yourself,"
I then prodded before sipping my Sprite.  "Who made Reika Aldred
the beautiful person she is?"

As she told me her life story, I was quick to note one particular
element that seemed to have set Reika on the road to self-awareness:
the command Cranston Aldred gave her and Irene to go ahead and do 
whatever was necessary to fully develop their personalities.
"So if someone became your new owner, would you want that person
to override that command?" I asked her at the end, doing my best to 
indicate that I would respect whatever choice she made when it came
time for her to make the choice, regardless if it concerned me or 
someone else.

Reika paused as she considered the question, then shook her head.
"No.  Irene and I really enjoy being what we are, discovering
new ways of bettering ourselves and our overall performance
in whatever we choose to do.  Neither of us would want it stopped."
A pause as she seemed to consider what else to say, then she blinked.
"I have to get ready for my next dance," she then announced.

"Let's clear out of here, then," I replied as we rose...

*    *    *

The rest of the night went off without a hitch.  There did come the
odd time when another patron came up to Reika to ask for a personal
performance in one of the private booths.  She was more than happy
to comply.  I couldn't begrudge her that; she was here to earn money.
To make sure the other patrons didn't end up thinking I was trying
to hog Reika to myself, I held off of making any open show of 
closeness.  A simple glance when she looked my way, then a subtle
nod towards one of the private booths, was enough to make sure she 
got the message.  Russ didn't do anything to butt in on what was 
happening between us.  No doubt, he was dead serious about having
me eventually become Reika's and Irene's new owner, so he clearly
wanted to give me every decent chance I could use to get to know my 
future charges.

I wasn't sure what to think about that, to be honest.  Being a freed
'bot's "owner of record" wasn't the same as being a plain 'bot owner,
at least as much as I came to understand the concept when I first
learned of it.  Yes, by the laws of certain parts of the States and
elsewhere, you were seen as being no different than a normal 'bot 
owner.  At the same time, according to Canadian law (and the laws of
those places where this sort of situation was respected), you 
couldn't seize your "property's" personal belongings, to say anything
of her earnings, for your own use.  Legally, you really had no right
to make use of a freed 'bot's remote control to press your own 
ends...

I shook my head as I considered that, sitting by the bar close to 
last call.  I couldn't see myself doing that to Reika or Irene.  Damn
it all, they EARNED the right to be seen as freed robots.  I 
respected that.  Besides, if I really wanted a 'bot to obey my 
commands, fulfil my every desire, I could get one fresh out of the 
factory -- if I could AFFORD such a unit, of course.  And getting
a second-hand 'bot from a resale outlet meant that you risked 
inheriting problems, screwball programming or fouled-up commands
from said 'bot's previous owners.

I certainly would enjoy having a 'bot as a personal companion.
I loved the many times I purchased the services of 'bot hookers
working the streets of places I had lived in during my sojourn around
the world.  Almost all of them had been fembots, who didn't mind the
fact that I was a hermaphrodite and could do it with them as a guy as
much as I could as a girl.  Even the few M-'bots I've slept with were
quite nice, especially after I suppressed their assertive attitudes
when it came to dealing with human girls.  A good screaming session
or two guaranteed that, I'll tell you.  I might look like a girl on 
first glance -- unless you catch me in the shower! -- but I can play
just as rough as the boys could when pushed to the wall.  The 
assholes who tried to gang up on Drew Keir learned that the hard way
fourteen years ago.

"Hi, Russ!  How're things here tonight?"

Russ, working on cleaning glasses a metre off to my right, looked
up, then chuckled.  "Pretty good.  What brings you around?"

"Oh, just checking my handiwork, that's all!"

I glanced over to see a woman about Reika's height standing by the 
cash register, two metres away from me.  Seeing her brownish skin 
made me blink as a haunting sense of recognition hit me like the 
proverbial ton of bricks.  The shoulder-length blonde hair, which
seemed to me so odd to appear on a woman like this, sent my heart
into my throat as it dawned on me who this person was.  Seeing her 
eyes, as brown as pure Swiss chocolate, not to mention a 
finely-sculptured face that hinted at a cultural smorgasbord
of ancestors, confirmed it.

She had matured a lot since I last saw her fourteen years ago, but it
was *her.*

Her...

"Marlenn," I whispered...

**    **    **

I had decided this night would be the one where I would begin to 
determine if Deanna was indeed fit to become my new owner.

It was some time after my last stage show that I emerged from the 
ladies washroom to return to the bar to enjoy more of Deanna's
company.  Already, I was running various social analysis programs
to determine the best way to convince Deanna that I wished to spend
the remainder of the night with her.  Her duties to the Morning
Mist Training Hall would not require her personal attention until
well past the coming mid-afternoon.  More than adequate time for me 
to make my "sales pitch" and see how things would progress from 
there.

After analysing the matter from as many viewpoints as possible,
I believed my chances at success were in the high eighty-percentile
range.  Unlike Cranston, Deanna was a hermaphrodite, someone who 
happily accepted the duality of her personal nature without question.
Surely, she would appreciate what Irene and I could offer her as 
personal companions.  Yes, my sister and I are legally considered
"freed," but we also needed, wanted to serve a human in some 
capacity.  Being declared freed didn't change that part of our 
beings; it would remain with Irene and I until the day we permanently
went off-line.  Since we are bi-gendered, an intersexual like Deanna
seems the perfect owner for us.

Stepping into the main hall, I saw that Marlenn Ioanis had come to 
the Retreat, she then standing by the bar speaking to Russ.  No 
doubt, Marlenn had come to look in on the other dancers working
here.  She was the primary maintenance technician for all of Russ'
robots at the Retreat.  A very good and diligent technician at that,
as Irene and I had learned shortly after coming to Welland when she
ran us through a thorough, detailed systems check, one my sister
and I hadn't experienced since the day we left the dealer in San 
Francisco.

And why not?

Marlenn is a robot herself.

It was easy for Irene and I to discover Marlenn's true nature; no 
'bot, not even Cecilia Galliard, is programmed well enough to 
completely avoid another 'bot's scrutiny.  My sister and I didn't
mind it, of course.  No doubt, Marlenn is a free 'bot herself.
Further, since there are birth records for a Marlenn Hannah Ioanis
-- I had checked -- it was also easy for me to conclude that the 
Marlenn I knew was one of the new IP -- "Implanted Personality"
-- type of robots now appearing in various hotel chains across North
America.

As to what might have happened to the real Marlenn, I had no idea.
I hadn't considered asking the 'bot Marlenn about it.  First, it was
an intrusion on the privacy of herself and her personality template,
something that could come to reflect badly on Irene and I.  That,
I didn't want.  Second, the chance was there that the 'bot Marlenn
had been programmed to not casually reveal her true nature to anyone.
If so, any question I might ask would not be answered.  And that 
could also come to reflect badly on Irene and I.  As I said above,
I didn't desire that.  Besides, Irene and I see Marlenn as our 
friend.  If she felt it right to tell us about herself, she would
make the decision.

Glancing at Deanna, I watched as she seemed to stare at Marlenn
for several seconds, then she quickly turned away.  Rising from the
bar, she left behind money for her last soft drink, then moved to 
walk out.  Taking note of the expression on her face, I quickly
recognized the mixture of anger, sadness, pain and fear that could
only arise from a human who had just encountered someone that had 
grievously hurt her sometime in the near past.  A glance to Marlenn
to confirm that she had not noted Deanna's presence, then I moved
to follow.

I had to make sure Deanna was alright...

**    **    **

Marlenn.

God, it was like receiving a back heel kick in the gut.

Save for the fact that she was well over a decade older, she didn't
truthfully look any different from when I had last really seen her up
close.  When I was in the hospital recovering from my aborted suicide
attempt, having just learned that the knife had badly cut up both my
ovaries, damaging the eggs embedded there so much that the chances
of my being a mother were essentially nil.  When Marlenn's parents,
who were distant friends of Mama's, had brought her to the hospital
to make her apologize for the words that had hurt me so badly.  When
the anger, shame and pain of what those words had done to me, had 
made ME do to myself, exploded like Mount Saint Helens with an 
attitude.

When I had wished that she would just die so she wouldn't pollute
the human race any further with her homophobia.

I wasn't ready to see her.  Not so damned soon after coming back 
after fourteen years spent travelling as far from Welland as I could.

I had to go.

Get away from her.

Go somewhere and think.

Go somewhere and cry...

"Deanna!"

I stopped, realizing that I had stumbled out of the Retreat, now 
standing on the street corner.  Spinning around, I gaped on seeing
Reika standing there, worry etched on her face.  "Reika..." I 
blinked, then rubbed my eyes.  "What are you...?"

"I came after you," she walked up to steady me with an arm.  "Are you
alright?  What happened?"

What happened?

Why...?

Why?

"I..." I felt my throat choke up, then the energy in my body started
to flow out of me.  "Home..."

"Deanna...?"

**    **    **

"Home..."

"Deanna...?"

It was easy for me to conclude what Deanna might desire, even it 
wasn't worded as a precise command.

"Sis?"

I looked right to see Irene walk up from the parking lot behind the
Retreat.  "We're taking her back to her place, Irene," I informed
her as I moved to guide Deanna away from the Retreat's front doors.
"Get the car!" I then ordered in my "male" voice.

Irene nodded, running around the corner to get our car ready.  I 
turned my attention back to Deanna, who was taking several deep 
breaths to calm herself, her hand brushing tears away from her eyes.
Recalling what I had seen inside the Retreat, how Deanna had reacted
to Marlenn's presence -- then calling up all the information
I had on Deanna -- the most probable cause of tonight's incident
became crystal clear.

Marlenn Ioanis -- the human Marlenn -- had been involved with 
whatever incident had befallen Deanna fourteen years ago.

In fact, it seemed most likely that Marlenn had been the principal
protagonist of that incident.

No wonder Deanna wanted to get away from her.

Turning the corner to walk onto the parking lot, I remained close
to Deanna as Irene backed out car out of its space, then reversed
it so we could get inside without delay.  Opening the door, I guided
Deanna into the back seat, then moved to sit beside her.  "Where
do you live, Deanna?" I gently asked as Irene closed the door behind
me, then moved to drive onto the street.

"I..." she blinked for a moment, then blurted out, "Fifteen Saint
Andrews Avenue.  It's an apartment block."

"Alright," Irene nodded as she drove down to Mill Street, then turned
right to get onto Niagara.  Fortunately for us, we had downloaded
a detailed city map into our minds and the car's own guidance 
computer when we first arrived in the Rose City.

To give Deanna some time to regain some sense of emotional control
before possibly confronting her neighbours, Irene decided to take the
scenic route to our new friend's residence.  Up Niagara Street to 
Woodlawn Drive, east over the old Welland Canal to Highway 406, south
to the East Main Street exit, then west to Saint Andrews Avenue.
As Irene drove, I held Deanna close to me, making myself an emotional
rock for her to cling onto after her brief encounter with Marlenn.
Fortunately for both Irene and I, our minds had developed to the 
point where specific mannerisms that were not "natural" to the 
emotional mode dominating our functions at any specific time could
be called upon without much in the way of conscious thought.  I did
intend to tell Deanna the truth about myself; it didn't seem proper
to allow her to make the same mistake Cranston had made concerning
Irene and I.  But humans can be emotionally very fragile at times.
To create a situation where they could experience emotional pain was
a direct violation of the First Law.  That, I would never do.

As we passed over the bridge spanning the old canal, Deanna took a 
deep breath, then asked, "You're both bi-'bots, aren't you?"

I quickly suppressed the automatic jolt that question elicited
from me, then sighed.  Well, that hurdle had been passed...

**    **    **

"Yes, we are," Irene answered.  I was quick to see the relieved
smile cross her face via the rear-view mirror.  "How did you guess,
Deanna?"

"Your sister," I gave Reika's arm a tender squeeze as I relaxed
my head on her shoulder.  My heart was still going a million 
kilometres a minute thanks to seeing Marlenn, but the rest of my body
was starting to come down from the adrenaline high.  "She telling
you to get the car sounded a little too forceful for a normal fembot.
I've never met any bi-'bots -- at least I *think* I haven't -- 
before, so it was pretty much a wild-ass guess even after that."
Taking another deep breath as Irene swung into the turn-off lane for
the 406 southbound, I looked up into Reika's face.  "Does Russ know?
Is that why he came to ask me about me becoming your owner of 
record?"

"He does," Reika nodded, then leaned up to kiss my forehead.  "Still,
he confessed to us that even if we were normal fembots, he would've
still come to ask you about becoming our owner, Deanna.  Even if you
decided never to come back to Welland again, he would've found some
way to contact you and helped arrange a meeting between us.  That's
how much he likes and trusts you."

I felt my cheeks heat up.  "I guess I'm lucky," I chuckled.

Silence fell as Irene drove the car down the 406 to the East Main 
turnoff, then headed west for a couple blocks before making a left
onto Saint Andrews.  Seeing my apartment block, I pointed it out, 
then Irene stopped the car to let Reika and I off.  As Irene moved
to park the car, I guided Reika across the street to the main doors.
We waited for Irene to catch up to us, then headed inside.

Soon enough, we were inside my apartment.  It's a simple affair:
living room with kitchenette, one bedroom, bathroom.  It wasn't 
furnished very much; I had little in the way of furniture to call my
own and what I did have either came with the apartment, was borrowed
from Master Lily or one of her friends or had been purchased from a 
second-hand store.  "It's cozy," Reika commented as we slipped off 
our shoes -- that was a habit I had acquired when I lived in Korea;
no doubt, the girls felt it only proper to do that when visiting
someone else's home -- then headed into the living room, relaxing
on the thick wool rug that covered the space save for the area around
my kitchenette.

"It serves its purpose," I admitted as a sense of relief, of safety,
started to flood me.  I was in my home.  Two new beautiful friends
-- friends I now knew who were more like me that I had first 
suspected meeting them on Saturday -- were currently visiting me.  
The cause of so much of my personal pain and self-doubt was halfway
across the city, still chatting it up with Russ no doubt.

I wondered what had happened to make Russ warm up again to Marlenn.
Fourteen years ago, after what happened to me, he refused to have 
anything to do with her.  Then again, fourteen years HAVE passed.
No doubt, since he wasn't directly involved in what happened,
Russ had decided to let bygones be bygones.  I couldn't begrudge
him that, could I?  He was still my friend and would remain so.  And
clearly, given what he wanted to help arrange between Reika, Irene
and I, he saw me as *his* friend.  That mattered just as much.

"Deanna, what did Marlenn do to you?"

I jolted, surprised by Reika's question, then I stared at her.  "How
do you know her?  Did Russ tell you something?"

She shook her head.  "I was unaware of what, if any, part Marlenn
had concerning whatever happened to you back in high school."  As I 
felt my heart start to race again, Reika reached over to hold my hand
in a show of comfort.  "Russ hasn't spoken openly about that 
incident, Deanna.  Neither have Tom or Jim.  They haven't betrayed
your trust in them, Deanna.  Still, I am aware that something
awful did happen to you at that time in your life.  It's what 
prompted you to leave Welland, go to university in Victoria, then 
travel around the world.  And after what I just saw back at the 
Retreat, it was easy for me to conclude that Marlenn had something
to do with what happened."

I stared at her, my heart slowly calming.  That shouldn't have 
surprised me, I guess.  Robots are remarkably observant when it comes
to witnessing human behaviour.  Atop that, they are also very 
discrete.  "You didn't answer my first question, Reika."

"She's a robot technician now," Reika smiled apologetically
at me.  "Certainly one of the better ones I've dealt with.  In fact,
your old public school currently serves as her laboratory, home and
workshop.  Irene and I've been staying there while we've been working
in the peninsula.  She offers living space to any travelling
free 'bot seeking a place to stay for a short while."

My jaw dropped as images of Marlenn acting as Victor von 
Frankenstein, hovering menacingly over a strapped-down, nude Reika,
flashed through my mind.  I had to laugh at that.  Reika gave me a 
curious look, then I waved her down.  "God, I never suspected
that she'd end up doing THAT sort of thing!!" I tried to stifle back
my snickers, then sighed.  "Does she help out with the 'bots at the
Retreat, too?"

"Yes, she does," Irene nodded.  "Not to mention many other robots
in Welland and Pelham."

"Really?" I stared at her, then whistled.  "She must be busy."

"She is," Irene confirmed.

Silence fell as that particular item of conversation seemed to loose
interest with me.  Finally, realizing that I hadn't answered Reika's
original question, I stood up.  "C'mon," I waved my guests with me 
into the bedroom.

They wordlessly followed me.  I nodded for them to sit on my bed -- 
fortunately, it's double-sized, so all three of us could fit onto it
quite comfortably -- then moved to undress.  Reika and Irene remained
silent as I slipped off my shirt and sports bra, then got to work on
my slacks.  Fortunately for me, I knew of an underwear dealer who 
could supply me with modified panties that gave me both comfort
when it came to my dick, plus a nice fit over my vagina whenever
I went through my monthly cycle -- yes, despite the fact that my 
ovaries are pretty much scar tissue these days, I still go through
THAT!  As soon as I took those off, I turned to display myself to my
guests.

"Beautiful!"

That was both Reika and Irene, by the way.

Hearing that made my member twitch as blood started to flow into it.
Seeing that, my guests moved to touch it, their fingers feather-soft
on its flanks, that contact making me gasp as a welcome urge started
pounding my loins.  I felt my heart start to hammer in my ears as 
jolts of passion rocked my body from head to toe.  It had been a long
time since I'd allowed myself to react without restraint.

Then, without warning, their fingers withdrew from my dick as they
stood up.  Staring at them, I moved to ask what was wrong.  Their
only answer was to guide me into sitting on my bed.  Once there,
Reika turned to the pile of CDs I had beside my player.  Scanning
the titles, she grinned.  "Good," she pulled out one, then slipped
into the player.

A flute started off the James Last rendition of Kiminori Nasawa's
"Yosaku" as my lovely guests began the most incredible floor show I 
had ever seen -- and yes, I HAVE seen two 'bot dancers go at it 
together back in my favourite showclub in Tuscon!  As one of my hands
began to stroke myself, I watched as Reika slowly pulled Irene's
skirt and panties -- no doubt, both girls wore bras and panties
in response to the "maintain proper decorum" command their old owner
gave them long ago -- down.  In the blink of the proverbial eye, 
Irene's own dick -- damn, hers was as friggin' big as MINE! -- was 
out, then quickly filled Reika's mouth right to the gorging point.
Lucky thing for both of them that they were 'bots; I don't know if 
human strippers or hookers could've done something like THIS for a 
stage show.

Soon enough, Reika's own lovestick was in the open as they mashed
their bodies against each other, swaying perfectly to the base drum,
synthesizer and flute as their trailed kisses all over their faces,
ears and neck.  As the song slowly worked its way to the climax,
both shifted themselves so their legs could brush up against mine.
Before I knew it, their hands were gently stroking my own dick as 
they moved to relax to either side of me, gently showering my face
with playful kisses.  I moaned, then nearly swallowed Irene's -- or 
was it Reika's? -- mouth wholesale as they forced me to lay back.
As I felt their bodies press against mine, I wrapped my arms around
them.

The song soon ended, but by that point, I really couldn't spare any
brain cells to notice...

*    *    *

I opened my eyes.  Morning light was shining through my bedroom
window.  Blinking, I soon came to sense the warm bodies pressed
to mine on both sides.  My arms ached slightly; Reika and Irene were
using them as pillows.  Both were asleep, though that could change
in an instant; they were 'bots after all even if they needed to sleep
themselves.  Carefully glancing down, I noticed that both had a hand
resting on my gut, effectively covering the plastic-like scar that
crossed my body a couple centimetres over my pubes.  A scar that,
even now, still bore signs of the stitches and flesh staples the 
doctors needed to put me back together fourteen years ago.  They were
still in "male" mode, both with raving hard-ons lying against my 
thighs.  And...!  Yep.  There was my own joystick, fully at attention
and ready for more action.

Lying back on my pillow, I stared absently at the ceiling for a 
moment before my hands drifted up to gently feel my companions'
hair.  They shifted slightly in response, their arms drifting up to 
wrap around the lower end of my rib cage.  Neither of them said 
anything.  Either they wanted to get some more sleep or were politely
waiting for me to start up a conversation.  All 'bots are like that,
I guess, even the freed ones.  Shuddering, I felt tears wet my eyes
as my hands softly pushed their heads closer to my own.

Was THIS what I needed now?

Did I want them, even if they were both freed?

Did I...?

"Reika?  Irene?"

Both hummed, their eyes opening as they gazed expectantly on me.  
Staring at one, then the other, I took a deep breath.

"Do you want me to be your owner?"

"Yes," both replied in lock-step.

Did I want them?

Did I...?

"I'll do it."

"Thank you."

Damn right I did!

*    *    *

I took the whole of Wednesday and Thursday off from work so I could
give Reika and Irene a personalised tour of the Niagara peninsula.
When I told Master Lily about my new companions, she was surprised
but pleased -- especially *after* I told her that my new lovers were
bi-gendered robots.  After getting a chance to talk to Reika and 
Irene over the phone, Master Lily insisted that they both come visit
the *tojang* when the opportunity presented itself.  As Irene told
me later that morning, "She said 'These days, I look on Deanna as my
own daughter.  That'll make both of you my daughters-in-law
when the necessary arrangements are made.  It's only right for me to
get to know my daughters-in-law.'"

Hearing that, I cried.

The tour of the area covered all the bases.  From the countless
tourist ghettos in Niagara Falls to historic Niagara-on-the-Lake,
from the local wineries to Welland's many murals, from Crystal Beach
and Sherkston to the various museums in Saint Catharines and 
elsewhere.  We even got as far as Hamilton on Thursday afternoon.
We kept the tour to the daylight hours so that Reika and Irene could
get back to the Retreat and the Mansion House to do their shows 
during the evenings.  I suspect Russ would've been willing to let 
Reika take a couple nights' off so she could spend even more time 
with me.  Reika wouldn't hear anything about it.  After all, she 
wanted to do her best as a freed 'bot stripper.  Part of that 
included honouring what agreements she made with the showclubs
she worked in.  That was understandable.

To get a chance to learn more about Irene first hand, I spent 
Wednesday and Thursday nights at the Mansion House, located on 
Lundy's Lane at the edge of the urban part of Niagara Falls.  Like
the Retreat, the Mansion was a showclub that didn't make use of a 
fembot control network.  The same was true of all the other clubs
in the Falls, Saint Catharines, Fort Erie and Welland.  Curious
as to how that came about, I soon learned from one of the Mansion's
regular patrons that Russ Willis, when he opened his doors, had been
the first club owner in Ontario to run his business without a control
net.  It had been touch-and-go for the first couple of years, but as
soon as Russ smoothed things out, the Retreat became the hottest
club in Niagara.  The other clubs had no choice but to follow suit
if they didn't want to lose customers.

While at the Mansion, I also came to discover that while Irene loves
her sister dearly and would never leave her side, she truthfully
has come to enjoy working as a solitary act when it comes to 
strip-dancing.  The "why" of it is easy enough to understand;
in a beauty contest, Reika would win hands down over Irene.  
Performing by herself, I'm pleased to admit, Irene's more than sexy
enough to win the adulation of the crowd at the Mansion.  That point
was driven home to me on Wednesday night when the Mansion's owner,
a nice middle-aged man named Dale Perry, came up and told me to take
care of Irene when I became her owner.  "A lot of folks here'd be 
really put off if Irene got hurt while she was under your care, Ms.
Hordye," he explained.  "They don't want that to happen to their 
favourite feature dancer."

"I'll remember that," I assured him...

*    *    *

As we warmed up to each other over those two days, Reika and Irene
explained to me why they had come to Welland in the first place.

Part of it was because of my true sexual nature.  I am well known
among my fellow intersexuals; there are entries on me you can easily
find in various Web sites concerning those like me.  Just type my 
name in any available search engine.  The fact that Mama and my 
father never elected to put me through corrective surgery makes me 
stand out enough among that crowd.  Of course, what happened to me in
high school isn't for public consumption; my doctors and the public
authorities saw to that.  But given what I am, the fact that I've 
come to accept myself as I am regardless of what others might think
of me, makes me very unique.  As unique in my way as Reika and Irene
are in theirs.

I am proud of what I am.  I'm willing to help others like me -- human
or 'bot -- develop and maintain that same pride.

That was point one.

Then there was a small problem that had the potential to grow into
a much bigger problem if Reika and Irene didn't obtain a new owner
sometime very soon.  That stemmed from the reaction of certain 
parties to Cranston Aldred's will, what he had set aside in trust
for Reika and Irene.  Though I wasn't quoted an exact dollar figure
when they told me this, it clearly was a *large* hunk of money.  And
sure enough, there were some greedy little jerks who wouldn't mind
it at all if Reika and Irene lost all access to their trust fund.
How that could happen, I'll leave to your imagination.  But the mere
threat of it had been enough to force the girls to seek out an 
out-of-the-way place for them to duck their heads and establish
a new life for themselves before trouble came to smash down their
front door.

I hate bullies.  I became a martial artist in part to ensure that I 
could help people defend themselves from slimebags like that.

That was point two.

Finally, there came the question of Reika's and Irene's relationship
with each other.  Atop being sisters in the human sense, they were
also very passionate lovers (as they willingly demonstrated
to me every chance they got when we were touring around the 
peninsula, not to mention during times we slept together in my 
apartment).  They didn't want to loose that relationship,
a possibility that could become a very ugly reality should two 
separate would-be owners chanced on them.  They wanted ***one***
owner and ***only*** one.  The only way they could bring themselves
to accept separate owners was if the owners were a married couple.
In this day and age, what were the chances of *that* happening?

I'm a romantic at heart.  I could tell how much Reika and Irene loved
each other.  I wanted that to last.

That was point three.

It was enough for me.

Friday morning, before I went to the *tojang* to teach morning adult
classes, I repeated the words I told Reika and Irene two days before.

"I'll do it."

*    *    *

With the decision made, things happened very quickly.

The following Monday, one of Cranston Aldred's legal assistants,
a woman named Cora Crispin, flew in from San Francisco to handle
the official turnover of ownership, which had fallen into her lap on
Cranston's death.  After a brief getting acquainted session at the 
*tojang* between Cora, Master Lily and myself, Reika and Irene were
brought in.  Both were demurely dressed in designer slacks and 
ruffled blouses.  One glance at their crotches told me right away 
that both were in "male" mode.

When we were lying together in bed the previous night, I admitted
that if I had the right to do so, I'd want to make one small change
to the command Cranston gave them.  That while they were out in 
public beyond the limits of a showclub, that both would physically
emulate what I had to live with 24/7.  Deep down, I envied their 
ability to "sheathe it," something I could never do.

Reika and Irene made no comment about that immediately afterward,
but by appearing as they did in the *tojang's* main training room,
I realized that they were willing to give this new behavioural
pattern a try.

Master Lily assumed her place at the head of the training room, then
beckoned Cora to place herself across from her.  I sat to Lily's
left, then Reika and Irene sat down across from me.  Once that was 
done, Cora drew out two small sheets of paper, handing them to me.  
On them were written the girls' names, the phrase "activation
code," plus a string of letters and numbers.  Once that was done,
Cora reached under her blouse to draw out two tiny silver necklaces.
Noting the beautifully scripted "R" and "I" on each of them, framed
on both sides with small stud buttons -- the left marked with "A,"
the right with "C" -- I was quick to recognize the pendants for what
they truly were.

Cora then drew out two more slips of paper from her pants pocket,
then holding up Reika's remote, read off what was written there while
pressing her Command button.  Reika's body locked up for a second
before her eyes closed, her head drooping slightly towards the floor.
Handing me the remote, Cora then repeated the procedure with Irene
and her remote.  Once that was in my hands, I glanced down at the 
sheets with their activation codes written there.  I took a deep 
breath before palming their remotes in my hands.

No backing away now.

I touched the "A" button on Irene's remote.  Her eyes snapped open
as she gazed my way.  "*Activation code?*" she asked in a flat 
monotone.

I read off the code.  "*Code input acknowledged and accepted,*"
Irene reported.  "*New owner of record identification?*"

I gave Irene my full name and place of birth, plus my social 
insurance number.  Her finger pointed at me.  "*You are Deanna Sophia
Hordye, born in the city municipality of Welland, regional 
municipality of Niagara, province of Ontario, the Dominion of 
Canada?*"

"I am she," I nodded.  Giving the full names of all the political
elements of where I live would ensure that Reika and Irene would now
be willing to subject themselves to the laws of Canada and Ontario,
not the United States or California.

"*Continue or reinitialize?*"

"Continue."

"*Please activate this unit's sister unit to complete transfer
of ownership.*"

With that, I pressed Reika's "A" button, then repeated what I had 
just done with Irene.  Once she had caught up with her sister 
program-wise, both then asked in lock-step, "*Confirm choices.*"

"All choices confirmed," I nodded.

Silence fell for a moment as their minds quickly clicked back into
gear, then brilliant smiles crossed their faces as they turned to 
each other.  One very passionate kiss later, both then turned to face
Master Lily.  Giving her a kneeling *kyoung'ye,* they then asked -- 
to my surprise, in perfect Korean! -- "Kyoulhon'eul hourak'anda?"
before looking once more at Lily.  *May we have your blessing?*

"Kamsadeurimnida," Lily nodded in return, smiling.  *I appreciate
your asking.*

With that, both turned to face me again.  I nodded my own thanks
to Lily, then touched the girls' "C" buttons with my thumbs.  "Keep
these with you at all times," I ordered them before pulling my 
fingers away from the studs.  That having been done, I quickly slung
the pendants around their necks before being bowled over by an 
embrace from a pair of *very* happy young women...

*    *    *

We spent the rest of the week enjoying a semi-honeymoon.
My teaching duties at the *tojang* were limited to evening classes
while Reika and Irene temporarily cut back on their shows at the 
Retreat and the Mansion, with the full blessings of both Russ Willis
and Dale Perry.  As an extra show of thanks for my giving my lovers
a renewed sense of security, I was awarded the right to enjoy 
"comped" -- complimentary -- drinks at either establishment
whenever Reika and Irene were performing there.  That was soon 
extended to every showclub in the peninsula as soon as the news got
around.  Of course, since I always stuck to soft drinks, the 
potential loss of revenue wouldn't hurt anyone too much.

Our days were spent getting a new apartment, since my current one was
way too small for three people.  By Tuesday, Reika -- with the help
of Cora Crispin, who stayed in town to ensure her former charges
were fully settled in -- obtained the lease in one of the apartments
in the very building Mama spent her last years in after her divorce.
That was located on Denistoun Street west of the old Canal, no more
than five minutes' walk from the Retreat.  Even better, we got an 
apartment with a view of the canal, which sure beat out looking
at some low rent housing across the street.  Once I had my stuff 
moved over on Wednesday, we went furniture shopping at the local Ikea
store.

First item we needed:  a queen-sized bed.

After all, you just *never* know...

**    **    **

The Friday after Deanna officially became our owner of record, Irene
and I went back to Marlenn Ioanis' shop on South Pelham Road to pick
up what belongings we had left there and to thank her for her 
hospitality.

I found her in her main laboratory, currently at work doing a 
full-body diagnostic on one of Russ Willis' bouncers, Donald.  I 
tried not to grin on seeing that Marlenn was naked under her work 
smock.  A glance to her well-shaped breasts revealed that her nipples
were fully erect, jutting out from her very dark areolae like two 
steep-sloped mountains.  The insides of her thighs glistened with a 
fine layer of vaginal fluids.  Seeing me as I stepped into the 
laboratory, she smiled, not the least bit embarrassed by her current
state of undress and arousal.

If this didn't tell me that she was a robot herself, **nothing**
would!

"So you're fully moved in now?" she asked.

"Yes," I nodded, walking around the diagnostic table to stand beside
her.  Gazing on the readout on Donald's systems, I nodded; it 
appeared there were no glitches inside him.  "Thank you very much for
your hospitality, Marlenn.  We really appreciated it."

"You're welcome," she grinned happily at me.  "I'd do the same for 
any freed 'bot."

I nodded.  Most humans in my position would likely have added an 
additional comment, I believe.  I didn't want to say anything that
might cause unnecessary friction between Marlenn and myself.

Thus, it caught me somewhat by surprise when she added, "You are 
aware of what I am, Reika.  Thank you very much for your discretion."

"It was impossible not to notice," I noted, glancing at her very 
well-sculpted body.  "And it was also easy for me to conclude that
you are under some unique programming and/or command constraints."

"Yes, I am.  Not so much different from what you or Irene must obey.
Or has that changed?" her eyes flicked in the direction of my slacks.

"By our own choice at our owner's request."

"Is your new owner a woman?"

"Legally.  In reality, she's an intersexual.  A 'true hermaphrodite'
as some might call her."

Marlenn seemed to freeze for several seconds as she processed
that response, then she gazed on me.  "A hermaphrodite?"
she repeated in a hushed whisper, then blinked several times before
breathing out a particular name.  "Deanna..."

She turned back to monitoring Donald.  I watched as one of her hands
drifted to her groin.  Without saying anything, Marlenn revealed
her true bi-gendered nature to me.  Like Irene and I did when we 
allowed our "male" sides to emerge, Marlenn became instantly erect.
After a moment, she gazed once more at me.  "How much are you aware
of what happened between Deanna and my template back in high school?"

I revealed what I knew; Deanna had not given me instructions
to do otherwise.  Since she was a robot herself, Marlenn would not 
reveal what she heard unless someone used her remote control unit to
force that into the open.  And since I believed Marlenn was a freed
robot herself, the chances of Deanna's private life being further
invader were quite slim.

After I finished, Marlenn nodded, turning back to press some controls
on the diagnostic machine as she willed herself back into pure-female
format.  "I was given a command by my template concerning Deanna.
Now that she has returned to Welland full-time, I can carry out that
command.  It..." she paused, closing her eyes as tears trickled
down her cheeks.  "It pleases me very much that she's come back 
home."

"Will it hurt her?" I asked.

"Of course not," she stared at me, grinning.  "I believe she'll like
it very much."

"I'll help in whatever way I can."

"Thank you, Reika."

*** To Be Continued... ***

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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