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Message-ID: <45831asstr$1071385802@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: fherriot@yahoo.com (Fred Herriot)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: Sun, 14 Dec 2003 00:30:20 +0000 (UTC)
Subject: {ASSM} (Repost) Deanna's Surprise Part 1 (Herm/Bi-'bot (2), Bi-'bot/Bi-'bot, rom, SciFi, ASFR)
Date: Sun, 14 Dec 2003 02:10:02 -0500
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

"Deanna's Surprise"
Part 1:  Reika and Irene
by Gorgo (fherriot@yahoo.com)
**** **** ****
With C&C from D.B. Story (DB_Story@att.net)
**** **** ****

(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 part of the 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 *especially*
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 feature performer 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
barely covered breasts.  Larger than my own and perfectly shaped,
completely independent of any influence of gravity whatsoever, her
nipples pressing firmly through the fabric.  I felt my own start to
respond in turn, though she would be hard to compete with in that
area.  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
features.  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.

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
large coins.

"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."  I knew 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 was just thinking that it's 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.  The normal piped background music started to play
as the next performer made her way to the stage.  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 bright 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 while 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.

"Aren't we all?" she said, smiling again at some deeper introspection.
 Then she continued, "No.  My sister and I were once the companions of
a rich businessman in San Francisco.  When he died, Irene and I were
declared free.  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, at
least as long as we stay in countries that will respect our rights."

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 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.  Still, I mused to myself, it
was a pity that she worked now just as a stripper.  Basic small talk
eluded most 'bots; one had to have the most advanced type of brain and
AI programming to operate like a human in this particular social
situation.

"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.  That's one thing I like about 'bots in clubs.  All of
them treat female patrons with the same respect as male ones.  The
human dancers are not always so undiscriminating.  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 aloud.

"There's a computer control on the lock," she explained as she sat,
then moved to take 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
while 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 and Japan, where the hair/eye colour combination
seemed ALWAYS to be black/very dark brown.  "I've been told 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
on her feet -- the pretty kind, not the big clunky ones that put
inches of useless plastic under her toes as well as her heels.  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 and the computer mind she possessed to execute them.

Even better -- though I was seriously NOT used to this -- she was
willing to let me 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.  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.  She turned
me on as much as any woman -- or man -- that I can recall.

Reika smiled as she noticed where her tip was poised, then leaned in. 
A kiss is *far* more intimate than just a touch, and I felt Reika
*wanted* a more intimate connection.  My heartbeat -- and other parts
of my body -- were now telling me that I wanted it, too.  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, heck, 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 -- complete with more mutually enjoyable
touching -- been at the side of the main stage for her other 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 take 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.  None were ever intended to be
self-willed when built.  And 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 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 a quarter of what
she earns working here.  Every other free 'bot who works here has done
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 who'd *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's estate.  That'll
reach final settlement in a couple months, then go away."  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 high heels, 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 shook my head.  "I've got classes to teach at ten, so
I better head home and get some sleep.  Walking helps me 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 we
needed.

I only hoped that Irene would come to the same conclusion.

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 surgical "correction," 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 -- to us at least.  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
ten 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 hairy artificial flesh above
my clitoris.  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.  "Make me enjoy it."

"As you wish," Irene whispered as she started gently trailing kisses
down my breastbone, her free hand reaching between her own legs...

*    *    *

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.

The two of us 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 that 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 comes 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.  To leave our "male" sides undeveloped while we were expanding
our "female" sides was not to be permitted in his eyes.  Being used to
commanding humans so much, Cranston was all too willing to extend that
expertise to robots.  He was an exceptionally rare owner for any 'bot
to have.  As rare as, I suspect, the circumstance of Irene and I
having each other to play -- or experiment -- with.

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 was one of the first bi-'bots
ever constructed.  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, humans or robots, could
every truly comprehend.  Something that was unique.  Truly ours and
ours alone.

I suspect that Irene and I are probably the only robots of our type
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 of 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
developed that aspect of our personalities.

Self-will was something Cranston considered too important to waste. 
He often said afterwards that he got better service from the two of us
than any other 'bot and owner he knew.  And he knew a lot of people.

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 have done countless times when
our situations have been reversed.  Mentally 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 trigger this
function with each other.  If anyone else touched or squeezed us
there, nothing would happen unless we wanted it to happen.  That
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.

Her own penis grew out.  Before I could react, Irene grabbed me by the
shoulders and forced me down onto the bed, her legs shifting mine
apart so she could slip herself -- in **that** respect, she is much
larger than me -- inside me.  I remained still, turning my mind's
pleasure buffer to maximum intensity, shielding the remainder of my
personality matrix from Irene's advance.  Normally, I would love to
submit myself to my sister, my lover.  But now, I knew, there was
something more important to speak about.

Finally taking note of my insensitivity to her seduction, Irene
breathed out.  Pulling herself out of me, she let her hands fall 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," I chuckled.  As she relaxed beside
me, I closed my eyes.  "I think I might've found a potential owner."

"Who?"

"Deanna Hordye."

Irene blinked, then crossed her arms, which had the effect of pushing
up her breasts even more.  Staring at my sister -- a 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 take
her any which way I could.  "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, reaching over to gently stroke her love stick.

A coy smile crossed her face as she replicated my action.  "So how do
we approach her?"

"Cautiously," I sighed as we leaned closer for a kiss.  "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.  That's
something any male will understand, though for me it had been a while.

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 female
instructors' 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 proclaimed
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 three 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.  That was very good.  The
bar was very busy and Russ was making the rent.  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 would 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.  "I would 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, then
glanced away, her cheeks starting to flame.  "It means a lot to me
when I know you're in the audience."

Sensing the truth in her words, 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 possessively 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."

"What do you think he did?" I asked, wondering what someone *could* do
wrong here, considering all I've done here with Reika and the others.

"Maybe he tried to force a command on her," Reika said carefully. 
"Force her to give up what money she had on her.  That's happened
before.  Or he might have attacked her.  Because of the First Law, she
can't protect herself, so she had to call for help."

"What an idiot!" I spat out.  "Looser rules shouldn'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.

"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.  I was quick to
sense that Reika seemed more at ease about kissing me this time than
she did on Saturday.

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 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
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 other 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.

Actually, even now as I reflect on this, I'm still amazed at how
valuable Russ has treated our friendship.  With only the occasional
postcard from me, sent from whatever far corner of the world I lived
in, he had stayed true to his friendship vow of so many years ago.

Hell, if I hadn't been so emotionally tied up because of Marlenn,
well...

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 about three kilometres
west of me, 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 across the country to attend university in Victoria, then
go further still around the world.  After what I just saw at the
Retreat, it was easy for me to conclude 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 cock was in the open as they mashed their
bodies against each other, swaying perfectly to the base drum,
synthesizer and flute as they trailed kisses all over their faces,
ears and neck.  As the song 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.

I felt myself collapse on the bed as their lips and tongues began to
tickle, suck, lick and caress every square centimetre of my skin. 
 From the area around my ears -- I'm *very* sensitive there -- to my
breasts, down my flanks, around my navel, then right straight to the
promised land.  A shudder warped through me as I felt someone's lips
wrap around my cock, then swallow it wholesale.  A gasp escaped me,
then I felt one of them -- who was it? -- shift herself to straddle me
at the level of my own breasts.  Before I could try to make out who it
might be, the blunt end of her dick was pressing against my lips.  My
mouth automatically opened to allow it in.  Thankfully, since both
Reika and Irene are 'bots, I didn't have to worry about things like
exhaustion making them collapse on my tits.  Being someone who shares
both male and female body parts meant that I also could experience the
utter *joys* of being kicked in the nuts or punched in my breasts.

It's something I don't relish experiencing.

A welcome rush filled my gut as I felt the girl sucking on my dick
pick up the pace.  I responded automatically by picking it up with the
girl straddling my chest.  A brief glance up before the torrent of
ecstasy overcame me revealed it was Irene trying to feed me her ivory
gold.  Her eyes brightened as she sensed me looking at her, then a cry
burst from her as she exploded.  Her dick slipped from my mouth as I
gasped for air, synthetic cum splattering my face.  I hit the big "O"
an instant later, Reika swallowing everything my body pumped out...

...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.  It was necessary for them; it gave them a chance to
properly sort out the previous day's thoughts, pretty much like what
humans do when they dream.  It was also a way for them project a sense
of safety and comfort.  After all, would *you* be able to sleep when
you have a beautiful 'bot staying awake, *staring* at you while you
were counting sheep?

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. 
Their still-erect dicks were now 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!  This might be the only family I'd ever start.

*    *    *

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, Port Colborne and Welland. 
Curious as to how that came about, I soon learned from one of the
Mansion's 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 her "younger" sister. 
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.  I should note
that such sites are few.  Just type my name in any available search
engine.  No doubt, after Reika and Irene first started hearing about
me from Russ and the others, they took the chance to scan the Web and
find out more; I do have my own LiveJournal site, after all. 
Realizing that, I mentally kicked myself for assuming that the girls
weren't Web-literate.

Further, the fact that Mama and my father never elected to "correct"
me makes me stand out among that crowd.  Of course, what happened to
me in high school isn't for public consumption; my doctors and the
police 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 believe I've finally made peace with myself.  The incident
with Marlenn at the Retreat warned me, however, that I still had some
ways to go.

Still, I'm more than willing to help others like me -- human or 'bot
-- come to enjoy that same sense of peace I've long sought.

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* chunk 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.

*    *    *

And 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.

*    *    *

"Irene, can I ask you something?"

"What is it, Deanna?"

It was very early Friday morning, an hour before I had to get myself
ready for morning adult classes at the *tojang.*  Reika was busy in
the kitchen preparing breakfast; Irene had done it the previous
morning.  Atop being great lovers and superb dancers, they were
excellent cooks.  That didn't seem so surprising to me; Reika and
Irene were built with digestive tracts that allowed them to absorb
extra energy from whatever they ate.  I wondered what else I would be
discovering about them over the following days, months and years. 
"Doesn't it bother you?"

"Deanna, can you *please* be more precise when you ask me a question?"
she teased.

I sighed, reminding myself yet again that this lovely woman lying
beside me was a robot.  Be precise, be precise, be precise...!  "I
mean, about you and Reika, how plain you look compared to her?  Is
there some way to make you look just as good as she is?"

"Don't you think I'm beautiful?" she coyly mused.

"Of *course* I do, but still...!"

She placed a finger on my lips.  "Hush," she whispered, drawing her
hand back.  "Yes, I suppose I could get some sort of cosmetic surgery
to enhance my breasts and looks, make me equal to Reika in every way. 
I could easily go all the way to having my mind transferred into a new
body, but 'bots prefer to avoid undergoing something like *that.* 
Then again, don't humans say 'beauty's in the eye of the beholder?'"

"Well, y-yeah, they do..."

A finger yet again to my lips to cut off my words.  "Well, to me, the
most important beholder of my beauty is myself.  And I very much like
the way I am," she smiled, drawing her hand back to lean on her palm. 
"And yes, when Reika and I work together, she draws the lion's share
of tips and private dances.  But I don't mind that, Deanna.  I never
will.  Even if we work together, Reika and I still earn money, which
helps us survive.  Every dollar we earn helps us.  Does it really
matter who earns it in the long run?"  She paused as if to consider
what else to say, then shifted herself to stretch an arm around me. 
"I don't let my 'lack' of looks compared to Reika get in the way of
the important things.  Why do you think I prefer to work solo?  I earn
more money that way.  That helps us both."

I considered that for a moment, then reached around her to draw her in
for a kiss.  "That's true, I guess."

We gazed into each other's eyes for a moment, then she reached down to
stroke my gut.  "Besides, why are you asking me about my looks?" Irene
grinned.  "If you cared so much about people's looks, why haven't you
done something about this?" she tapped my scar.

"It's just cosmetic surgery, for Heaven's sake..." I sharply replied,
then caught myself as it dawned on me what Irene was driving at. 
"*Touche,*" I chuckled, shifting myself onto my side so we could hug
each other under the covers.  "There are times I have been tempted to
be rid of this.  It's easy to do in the long run.  But..." I closed my
eyes.  "I guess there are also times I need to be reminded of what I
once had, what I lost.  Not just for me, but for others like me. 
There are many more like me out there than what might be hinted at on
the Net.  One of them, I got to know very well when I was going to
university; she's a Dineeh from Arizona..."

"'Dineeh?'" Irene blinked confusedly.

"You'd probably know her people by the name 'Navaho.'"

"Ah," she nodded.  "Is she mentioned anywhere on the Net?"

"No.  The Dineeh consider it impolite to brag about anything others
might become jealous at.  In her own culture, being born a herm means
Christina -- that's her name, Christina Tokachi -- is seen as
doubly-blessed because she has *both* a man's and a woman's spirit."

"So being what she is could be interpreted as some as a potential
threat because she spiritually has 'more' than her fellow Dineeh?"

"Yeah," I nodded.  "While I was wandering around, I always kept my eye
out for other intersexuals.  Be as much of a big sister to them as I
could given what their native culture demanded of them, too.  I'll
still do that even living here in Welland.  But there are times..."

"You need to have a big sister of your own?"

I pauses for a moment, then nodded.  "Yeah."

Irene stared at me, then leaned in to give me a long, warm kiss.  We
held each other close, not wanting to move from that position, for
what seemed an eternity -- that is, until Reika peeked into the
bedroom.  "Breakfast is ready," she announced.

"I'll do it."

Reika and Irene looked at me.  "Do what?" the former asked.

I closed my eyes.  Be precise, you idiot!  "I'll be your owner.  If
you'll have me."

Smiles crossed both their faces.  "Let it be done," Irene leaned up to
kiss my forehead...

*    *    *

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.

Realizing that, I had to wonder:

Had Cora kept the remotes with her since Cranston died?

Or had the girls kept them with them, only giving Cora access to them
just for this ceremony?

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 joint 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* as I'd taught them,
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 "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, even if we did share a bedroom.  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
to one of the apartments in the very building Mama spent her last
years in.  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.  Even a 'bot of her type was not immune from showing
the signs of sexual arousal any 'bot displays.  I restrained myself --
with a considerable amount of difficulty -- from responding to her
obvious indication of willingness to be taken right there.  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
and the low heels I was now wearing; a change from the mid-thigh
skirts and higher heels I'd always worn in public before.  I always
liked being viewed as sexually desirable.  These days, Deanna was
showing Irene and I another way.

"By our own choice at our owner's request," I replied.

"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
own 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 invaded
were quite slim.

After I finished, Marlenn nodded, turning back to press some controls
on the diagnostic machine as she shifted 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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