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Message-ID: <46849asstr$1077603003@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "DB_Story" <DB_Story@att.net>
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Subject: {ASSM} ASFR: (Revised) Jungle Bunny {DB_Story} (M/Fembot, cons, rom, ScFi, 1st, interr, asfr)
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Date: Tue, 24 Feb 2004 01:10:03 -0500
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JUNGLE BUNNY
By DB  ( DB_Story@att.net / http://home.att.net/files/Authors/db_story/www/ )
Copyrightc 2002-2004 by DB.
ASSM/ASFR (M/Fembot, cons, rom, ScFi, 1st, interr, asfr)

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

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

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

- - -

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

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

- - -

I work as an independent contractor for a top tier technology 
company.  You'd know the name if you heard it.  That has 
advantages and disadvantages.

The money is excellent.  Far more than I'd make as an employee 
here, even when you consider I have to buy my own health 
insurance and pay both halves of my FICA.  I get some deductions 
the regular folks will never see, and I set my own hours.  Best 
of all - no meetings, and no performance reviews.  Technically I 
don't even have a boss.  If I did, I'd be reclassified as an 
employee and everybody would be unhappy.

On the downside there's no job security, and in some weird ways 
the company seems determined to treat contractors as less than 
human.  For instance, I'm forbidden from using both the company 
gym, and the company library.  I've never been given a good 
reason why.  I am allowed to eat in the company subsidized 
cafeteria however.  And I have to be extra careful to stay out of 
all the restricted areas.  Why I'm considered a bigger risk to 
the company than an employee taking home a third of what they're 
paying me makes no sense.  This job is worth far more than any 
corporate secrets I might discover.  Generally I'm allowed into 
any area my badge will open, so I use that as my list of what's 
allowed and what's not.  There used to be TV cameras all over 
hidden in the ceilings to make sure nobody misbehaved.  I was 
told that there were so many complaints during that time that 
they were all pulled out, except for the visible ones over the 
entrances and exits.  I confess I haven't climbed up to check any 
of the still remaining dark glass globes to see for myself, but I 
do get on well with the security people because, unlike regular 
employees, I have to sign in and out every day.  I know the 
guards better than the W-2's do.  These guards are the ones who 
have confirmed to me that the inside surveillance is gone, except 
for a couple very special cases, and I'll take them at their 
word. 

My home is cubicle land.  At least that's what I call it.  It 
seems so much like something out of Dilbert that I can't think of 
it any other way.  The huge, rectangular second floor is wall-to-
wall partitions, twenty-foot ceilings, and rows and aisles, 
supporting hundreds of employees.  It would make for a great maze 
if someone had displayed a little more imagination, but all we 
have is a regular grid pattern of rows and aisles.  This room is 
directly above the manufacturing floor, and is so large it takes 
me better part of five minutes to walk its perimeter.  Someone 
was smart enough to stencil coordinates high up on the supporting 
columns, and the first thing you learn is that everyone gives 
directions from the nearest column.  After awhile the system 
becomes natural - which is a pretty unnatural occurrence.

Built into the long sides of the building are several pairs of 
restrooms, multiple break rooms, a copy center, library, stairs, 
freight elevator, and the restricted labs with their own 
automatic doors.  I can see into these labs since the doors are 
glass, but I don't even try my badge on these doors.  I know the 
system logs all failed authentications and I don't want to have 
to explain why I thought my job involved a trip into the 
chemistry lab, or any other.

Because I set my own hours, I prefer to start late and end later. 
 I don't have to get up early this way, and miss the traffic both 
directions.  This much is allowed of me.  And after hours I'm 
allowed to use some of the neat adult toys - expensive scanners 
and large format printers - that I'll never own at home.  Since 
my social life is nil at the moment, leaving late doesn't eat 
into any dating scenarios.

As such, I see things the regular employees miss, like the 
cleaning crews.  My favorite secret joke is watching the cleaning 
crews empty the locked wastebaskets we are all supposed to use 
for confidential company materials.  After being warned about 
being careful with company information my first week, I quickly 
got into the habit of throwing everything except used Kleenex 
into them.  This is easy to do since I'm low man on the totem 
pole to every employee and so the nearest bin was put in my cube. 
 I can't complain about that, or a few other things that they get 
away with storing in my space.  As I said, that's how contractors 
are treated.

Imagine my amusement the first time I stayed late and watched the 
cleaning crew carefully open each locked bin, and then dump it in 
with all the rest of the trash in the same big dumpster they roll 
around every night.  Same with the little recycle trashcans we 
all have.  No I didn't tell anybody about it.  That's not part of 
my job.

My one habit that could get me in trouble is that I like to 
wander.  In the afternoons and evenings, when I have a long 
compile and load in progress, I'll get up and walk.  That's how I 
know how long it takes to walk around our floor.  I've timed it 
more than once.  One particular task takes three laps to 
complete.  I have an excellent map in my head of the restricted 
rows and aisles to stay clear of, and I could absolutely care 
less about any company secrets.  I just like to walk.  Some 
people will naturally find that suspicious.  To avoid as much 
scrutiny as possible, I vary my routes so that no one sees too 
much of me over any short period of time.

This afternoon my route took me down the near side past the 
chemistry lab.  This is one of the most restricted areas of all, 
and even most normal employees aren't allowed inside.  You have 
to wear special lab coats for protection, and there are several 
unpleasant warning signs on the doors cautioning of bad things 
inside.  That's all fine since it's not my problem.

I noticed that the sliding doors were ajar by several inches.  
They'd been having troubles with them for the last couple of days 
and I remembered seeing the cleaning crew needing to prop them 
open last night to do their job.  You'd think a big powerful 
company like this would have these things fixed in an hour.  But 
so far two days had passed with no change.  Maybe they were 
waiting for the necessary part to arrive.  Or maybe they were 
just being lazy about it.  It wouldn't be the first time I'd 
noticed that things often took a couple weeks to get fixed 
properly.

I glanced in through the window and almost stumbled as my feet 
got caught between the choice of stopping to get a better look at 
what I thought I just saw in there, and keeping moving because I 
am not supposed to be looking in there at all - glass or no 
glass.

In the end I made three different loops around different cubicle 
blocks to go back past the lab doors three more times as slowly 
as I could make my slow walk and shortened steps take me.  I was 
almost moonwalking to make my motion look like more than it 
really was.  And I was right in what I had seen.  A dark-skinned 
nude female figure lay on a wheeled table to one side of the 
otherwise unoccupied lab.

- - -

I call it the chemistry lab, which it is.  It's not a mad 
scientist's laboratory.  The work done here is research into new 
inks for printing.  Nothing clandestine, just normal industrial 
secrets.  To say that what I saw intrigued me greatly understates 
my curiosity.

I couldn't do a thing about it however.  At least not now.  I had 
no doubt that getting caught in there would result in instant 
termination, and that's not worth it no matter how good she 
looked.

All I could do is wait until the evening. I knew the building 
would be pretty much empty by six-thirty.  Then, possibly, get 
myself another look.  Needless to say, I was less productive than 
usual the rest of the afternoon, which passed with the speed of 
molasses in the winter.

I don't take headcounts of people remaining because normally I 
don't care.  Tonight I did.  Even though my expedition would only 
take five minutes tops to see what I could see, I didn't want to 
be disturbed during it.

I think of the building as being empty at six-thirty, but was 
amazed how many people seemed to be remaining past that time 
tonight.  In fact, it wasn't until 7:45 that things finally 
seemed to quiet down.  This limited my window of opportunity 
significantly, because the cleaning crew would be starting their 
rounds soon.  They always seemed to get to my area by nine, and 
my cube is pretty much in the middle of the expanse.

Finally I was ready to make my move.  If someone saw me now, that 
sighting alone wouldn't be a problem.  I've often worked later 
then this, and would have no problem explaining these hours 
tonight if asked.  I just couldn't be caught in the wrong area.

Like a human trying to imitate a cat I quietly moved through the 
well-known aisles to bring me closest to the lab entrance without 
exposing myself to the long wide corridor running in front of it. 
 I wanted to minimize my time where anyone from either end of the 
building could see me.  Like a cat I kept my ears perked, and 
virtual whiskers, out for any rustle of movement.  I felt certain 
I had eyes on me from every direction and that I must have looked 
as guilty as sin, but in truth nobody was there to see me.

My heart was racing as I stood just inside the closest entrance 
to the long corridor.  After waiting what seemed an endless time 
to triple check that everything was clear, I finally stepped out 
and walked nonchalantly over to the door.

The sliding doors were stuck nearly four feet open.  They'd 
turned the lights down for night, which means only about every 
sixth fixture was on, and only one tube in each of those.  That's 
still plenty of light to see by.  I saw the figure over in the 
corner.  Someone had pushed her further out of the way and thrown 
a sheet over her.  I could only see her head, and even that was 
in the shadows.

I glanced around.  Nobody was in view.  Nobody had been in view 
for the last several minutes.  Nobody was likely to be in view 
for the next half-hour.  Besides, it was darker in there than out 
here.  Even if someone came by, chances were excellent they'd 
never notice me.  I checked the ceiling for evidence of cameras 
and saw none.  I weighed the odds and then quickly stepped 
inside.

- - -

Once I committed I didn't waste any time.  I moved quickly, yet 
quietly, to the table.  I planed to lift the sheet, get one good 
look, and then get out again.

She lay there, sheet up to her neck and eyes closed, as if 
sleeping.  Her lustrous black hair was straight, but kinky.  What 
some might call nappy.  It went well with her rich chocolate 
skin.  Her facial features were proper African to match her hair 
and skin, with prominent cheekbones and flawless complexion.  It 
was a beautiful, unexpected, face for a fembot - which is what 
she had to be.

It pleased me to see that someone had finally realized that 
beauty comes in many forms, and that all fembots aren't stamped 
from a single mold - not that I am an expert on the variety of 
fembots.  They are expensive machines, beyond the reach of most 
individuals such as myself.  I'd sooner have blown money on an 
unnecessarily fast and expensive car as considered a fembot 
purchase.

The sheet covered the rest of her body.  It had a couple nice 
bumps in the right places, but didn't show much.  I knew I was 
going to pick it up in a moment and take a good look for a Texas 
minute, while letting my ears do the work of warning me of any 
approaching danger.

I took hold of one side and started to lift.  As I did I brushed 
against her hand lying just off the edge of the table.  To my 
surprise it was a warm and soft as any human hand I've ever 
encountered.

(Okay, I've never touched a fembot before.  Just seen them in 
pictures and showroom windows.  I was still startled.)

I was so startled - I guess I had expected it to be cold and 
plastic - that I dropped the sheet.  As I fumbled for the edge I 
encountered her hand again.  This time to my horror, her eyes 
popped open, she lifted her head and asked, "Are you ready for me 
to go to work now?"

I jumped.  I admit it.  I jumped big time.  I didn't know she was 
turned on.  For that moment I was the classic kid caught with his 
hand in the cookie jar.

"No.  No," I quickly stuttered out.  "No, we're not ready for you 
yet.  You should go back the way you, uh, were."

"Okay," she said with a very human tone of resignation.  "But I 
don't know why you bothered to turn me on if you aren't planning 
to use me."

In my mind's eye I had this cartoon view of already being halfway 
out of the lab and still accelerating while my feet still stood 
by the table waiting to catch up.  But part of me felt I ought to 
at least be polite enough to answer her properly, rather then run 
away first.  I've always been that way with women, not that any 
seem to appreciate it very much.  The habit, however, remains 
ingrained.  Besides, I've been intensely curious about fembots 
ever since I'd heard about the first realistic models years ago. 
 I've just never been willing to do the necessary lying to be 
able to get myself into a showroom to see one up close.  I knew I 
couldn't afford one, until recently that is, and as such the 
showrooms aren't interested in my business.  They still have a 
rare, expensive commodity, and are pretty picky about whom they 
let in.

"I didn't realize I had turned you on," I replied.  I thought 
that required a control box.

"You're right," she said, now looking directly at me.  "I didn't 
mean that you had turned me on.  I was speaking about the man 
earlier who activated me, then just left me here with no further 
commands."

In spite of my fears of discovery, this was fascinating.  I'd 
never realized that you could just talk to a 'bot this way.  
'Bots were the current rage on all the sitcoms this season, but 
all of them are jerky and mechanical, and always getting things 
wrong because they literally go and do exactly what you tell 
them.  Even though human actors play these 'bots and pretend that 
you can't tell them apart from regular people, you always knew 
who was a 'bot and who wasn't.  It was a joke that was funny 
twice, and not any more than that as far as I was concerned.

"He just left you here?" I asked.  "That doesn't make sense."

"Actually," she said in a warm contralto voice I was finding very 
appealing, "He told me to lie down on this table and turn myself 
back off."

"Didn't you do that?"

"I can't.  Turning me off requires my control box, and I'm not 
allowed to use it.  But he didn't want to hear that, so I came 
over and pretended to be turned off to make him happy."

"And did it?"

"I guess so.  At least as happy as he is ever going to be with me 
I'm afraid."

Intriguing as this all was, I knew I should have been out of here 
before now.

"And then you touched my hand," she continued in a friendly 
talkative way, "And I thought someone finally wanted me."

"I really have to go," I told her as gently as I could.

"Oh," her face fell.  I'm amazed at how real - human - her 
reactions are.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"It's okay.  It was just nice to have someone to talk to."

I felt like a heel.  To a 'bot, no less.

"I'd like to talk to you more," I told her truthfully, "But I'm 
really not even supposed to be in here."  I kicked myself as I 
said that, wondering if she would now have to report me.  But 
instead her face brightened as she realized that I wasn't 
rejecting her personally.

"Maybe there is there some place else we can talk" she said with 
the simplicity of a child - and the logic of a genius.  Such an 
innocent comment, thrown into such a complicated situation.

"Well, there's a conference room at the end of the hall," I said 
before I could think of a good reason not to.  "But we'd have to 
wait until later when no one else would see us."

She seemed to accept that caveat at face value.

"How much later?"

I thought for a moment.  The cleaners do the conference room 
first, and then work their way this direction.

"At least an hour," I said.  "You'd have to wait until the 
cleaners are done with this half of the building.  They'll come 
through here on their way by."  That was probably not strictly 
true.  The cleaners probably wouldn't care about anything unusual 
any more than I let myself.  But I was absolutely not going to 
take any chances.

"Okay," she said with a smile.  "I'll talk to you more after 
that."

With those words she lay back down on the table and closed her 
eyes again, looking exactly like I'd found her.

I stood there feeling I should say something more, but there 
seemed nothing more to say.  I realized the longer I took here, 
the more I risked discovery.  With one last look at her I quietly 
bolted for the doors.  I didn't start to feel safe until I was 
three full rows deep back in cubicle land.

I wasn't sure what had just happened, or what I had agreed to do. 
 I went back to my desk confused.  I decided to work some more on 
my project and maybe my mind would sort things out.  I actually 
got back into the graphic I was preparing, and soon my 
concentration returned and I forgot the outside world.

- - -

About forty-five minutes later I leaned back to take a break and 
rest my eyes when my phone suddenly rang.  It was her voice on 
the other end.

"Hello, Sam.  The janitors have finished in here.  Are you ready 
to go and talk some more?"

"How did you know my name?" I asked dumbly.

"Your name badge, of course."

"But how did you get my phone extension?" I continued, showing 
how dumb I really can be when dealing with an attractive woman.

"The company telephone list, silly," she answered, making far 
more sense than I was at that moment.  "You're still going to 
meet me, aren't you?" she added wistfully, in the manner of 
someone who has been disappointed a lot lately.  I'm sure a real 
woman would have already hung up on me by now, given how lame I 
was acting towards her.

"Uh...yes," I finally replied.

"Great!" she squealed in excitement, and I immediately looked 
around to see if anyone else had heard.

"Keep it down," I cautioned quickly.

"Okay," she said softly.

There was a pause.  I think each of us was waiting for the other 
to speak.  Finally she said, "Where do I meet you?"

I was tempted to come get her.  But that would be hard to explain 
to anyone we did meet, unlikely as that might be this late.  
Better to meet inside the conference room.

"Here's what you do," I told her.  "Come out of the lab and turn 
right in the corridor.  Go straight to just before the end.  It's 
the last door on your right.  It says 'Conference Room' on the 
plaque beside the door.  Can you do that?"

Again I'm sure real woman would have been insulted by the 
insinuation that she couldn't follow simple instructions.  This 
woman wasn't.

"I'll be there in three minutes," she said, followed by a click.

"Be sure you have some clothes on," I added frantically into the 
dead phone.

I grabbed at my phone list to find the lab number, but quickly 
realized the futility of it.  She'd either come as she was, or 
know enough to not be so indiscreet.  Either way, she was on the 
way and I couldn't change it now.

I decided to give her time to get there first.  If she attracted 
any attention, I just wouldn't show.  And if she attracted 
attention and mentioned my name...I don't know what I'd do then.

She was short enough to not show over the cubicle walls.  I'm 
tall enough to easily look over myself, which is normally an 
advantage.  Not tonight though.

I gave her those three minutes, and then three more, before I 
furtively made my way to the room too.  I couldn't hear a sound 
in the building now, except for the soft sounds of the air 
conditioning system, and maybe the sound of the conference room 
door shutting ahead of me.

When I reached the door I hesitated before opening it.  I made 
sure I had an excuse for being there already loaded and ready to 
fire to save me if I didn't find what I expected inside.  I sure 
didn't want to fumble around for some lame explanation at the 
last moment.  Then I opened the door and walked in.

Despite my fears, the only thing in there besides the chairs and 
tables was a barefoot figure with her back to me looking out the 
big windows on the far side into the night.  She was wearing a 
white lab coat she must have found that came down a little below 
her knees.  It was by far the best choice of an outfit she could 
have possibly made.

She heard me enter, turned, and with a smile on her face and joy 
in her voice said, "You came!" as she quickly moved over to me.

She came right up and put her arms around me, giving me a big 
kiss, after pulling me down to match her height.  In reflex I 
took her into my arms stiffly in return, but it was not my best 
hug.  I soon broke us apart saying, "Let me insure our privacy."

I walked back over and twisted the lock on the conference room 
door.  There is no way to see into this room from that side.  
When I turned back she was still there waiting for me.

For the first time I actually got a good look at her.  At least 
as good as the loose lab coat permitted.

As I observed already, she is an attractive dark-skinned woman 
who seems atypical for a fembot.  In a way it made sense though. 
 When you look at her your first thought is not of a fembot, 
which is probably the idea.  That makes her all the more 
interesting.

Aside from her face, all I could really see is that her hands are 
attractively well manicured, and so are her feet.  I could hardly 
ask her to take her coat off for me, so that left little more to 
go on.  She seemed - chunkier - then the slender supermodel or 
busty exotic dancer types I've seen before.  The first glimpses 
I'd caught of her this afternoon seemed to give her a very 
womanly figure, but those had been so fleeting I still wasn't 
exactly sure what I'd seen.

While I was sorting this out she was waiting for me to get on 
with it.  Finally she asked, "Are we going to talk?"

"Uh...sure," I replied.  "What would you like to talk about?"

"I'll let you choose," she said sweetly, after furrowing her brow 
for a moment in obvious thought.  "You have much more experience 
in conversations than I do."

Except I didn't have any ideas either.  Casting frantically about 
I finally came up with, "Why don't you tell me what has happened 
to you here so far?"

What ever she lacked in conversational confidence she made up for 
in interpersonal skills.  She pulled out a couple chairs and took 
my hand to lead me to one before taking the other herself.  She 
then crossed her legs easily at the knees and told me her tale.

- - -

"This is my very first assignment, so all that I remember has 
happened here in the past few hours.  I was activated and 
prepared by my programming to be a lab assistant.  But now I 
think they don't want me."

"Why?" I asked.

"Just as I was turned on, before they even initialized me, the 
lab manager came over.  He took one look at me and said, 'I can't 
imagine what those people are thinking.  I won't have a Jungle 
Bunny working in my department.'  Then he told me to go lie down 
over there and shut myself off.  I did my best to obey, but I 
heard them arguing over me afterwards."

"What were they saying?"

"Despite my acute hearing, most of it was too far away to 
understand.  But at one point several of them came over to me and 
he said to 'cover it up while I figure out how to return it.'  
They put a sheet over me and left me alone until you came in and 
touched me."

Then she looked at me with her big beautiful clear brown eyes and 
innocently asked, "What is a 'jungle bunny'?"

I had to think for a moment on that one.  Not because I didn't 
know the answer.  Instead because I was about to introduce an 
obvious innocent to dark side of human nature.

"Jungle Bunny," I finally told her, "Is an ugly, unpleasant term 
for a person with your lovely features and skin color.  It is 
unfair, inaccurate, and would never be used in that sense by 
anyone who actually knew you and liked you."

She thought that over carefully, giving me some time to think as 
well.  I am still amazed at how lifelike and personable she is.

Finally she announced, making her own decision in this matter, "I 
will not like him either then.  But," she added, looking so 
directly at me that I felt she was addressing my soul, "I like 
you a lot."

I smiled and reached over to squeeze her hand.  Then she asked me 
another innocent question.

"Why did you come in to see me?"

I couldn't think of a good story so I told her the truth.  "I had 
seen you earlier, and wanted to get a closer look.  I didn't 
realize what had happened with you."

"Well I'm glad you did," she said warmly, "Or I'd still be lying 
there."

"I'm glad I did too," I replied equally warmly in return.  Her 
smile told me she understood human voice tones just fine.

Then she asked about the world outside this building and I 
started telling her about San Diego.  She seemed fascinated by 
this world she had yet to experience and made the best possible 
audience.  Hanging on every word, asking small questions to move 
things along, she really seemed thirsty to experience the world 
at large - even secondhand.  One couldn't have hoped for a better 
audience.

Finally we arrived at one of those awkward pauses when neither of 
us knew what to say next.  Then we both tried to speak at once.

"What else would you like to talk about?" I asked.

"Would you like to do anything more with me?" she asked.

We both laughed, although mine was a bit strained.  What I'd like 
to do with her I couldn't ask.

That brought another pause, which she broke by saying, "Well 
there is something I'd like to do, at least once."

With that she stood up, moved away a several steps - and then 
took off her lab coat.  She was again totally nude, and seemingly 
completely unconcerned about it.

- - -

My first reaction was that this is exactly what I had wanted to 
see from the beginning.

My second was, is someone about to catch us at this?

My third was, do I get to touch her too?

My fourth was, can I walk closer to her without scaring her off.

These reactions all took about a second.

The realization I hadn't come to yet was in wondering how she was 
managing to do all this on her own.  It was my own inexperience 
with fembots that kept me from questioning this.  She made it 
seem so natural that the question didn't even come to mind.  She 
was just being herself

I was finally getting to see her entire naked body up close.  
Something I had been dying to do ever since getting that brief 
glimpse of her through the lab door those many hours ago.  She 
seemed short, probably around five-six.  And if anything, I would 
have called her little bit dumpy.

The fembots you see in the pictures are always lean and sleek.  
Long tanned legs in high spike heels, tight bodies, classic 
faces, and large weightless boobs.

On a first impression this 'bot seemed none of those things.  Her 
figure was generous, with wide hips and sturdy legs.  She looked 
to be a size twelve, created in a world enamored with size twos. 
 Her breasts were large, yes, but hung heavily - naturally - on 
her chest, with large darker nipples well situated on them.  What 
I could see of her backside was a tad generous as well.  Though 
no part of her was extreme she seemed, if anything, a fembot who 
had gained an extra thirty pounds somewhere along the way, most 
of it in all the right places.

Her other noticeable features were a properly placed naval, a 
control box hanging on a slender cord between her breasts that 
had been out of sight earlier, and a large patch of lush black 
pubic hair covering her between her legs.

You'd think these imperfections would make her less attractive, 
but they actually made her more so.  Rather than some artificial 
idea of feminine perfection, she looks real.  And with a smile 
and personality that I would have never expected, she's a winner. 
 I couldn't believe how anyone in the lab would have rejected her 
for any reason at all.  Not when the other choice would be to 
work alongside her every day.

I rose to my feet without thinking as she started to walk towards 
me.  As she moved, her body swayed.  Her hips swayed.  Her 
breasts swayed. And she tossed her head just enough that he hair 
swayed.  There was not part of this woman not in motion.

When she reached me, without thinking I reached out for her 
control box.  Her response was another surprise.

Her hand came up and softly brushed mine away, while saying in a 
sultry, husky voice, "You won't need that to get what we both 
want out of me."

Her touch was gentle.  I could have easily overridden it and 
taken control of her if I had wished.  She stopped, waiting to 
see what I would do.

I looked down into those beautiful eyes and saw - something - 
that made me not want to do that just now.  At this magic moment 
we were in a relationship of equals, strange as that might sound. 
 We were dealing with each other as free adults.  She had asked 
for my company and conversation, come on her own to meet me, and 
was now offering herself to me of her own apparent choice.  
Thinking about it as we stood in our tableau, I was smart enough 
for once to realize that there was no way I could do anything to 
improve on this.

So instead of pushing her hand back and taking possession of her 
control box, I slid my hand up and placed it behind her soft warm 
neck, pulling her gently in for a kiss on those rich tender lips. 
 She must have liked my response since she immediately flowed up 
to me and pressed herself firmly up against me.  What followed 
was kind of confused and run together.

- - -

That first kiss was followed by several more of increasing 
intensity.  One or both of us got my clothes off and soon her hot 
body was pressed up tightly against my bare flesh.  She 
encouraged me to handle her heavy breasts, her body stiffening in 
pleasure every time I gently mauled her large, willing nipples.  
Before we were done her hands had roamed over and touched every 
part of my body, as I did the same to hers.

Whether I pushed, or she pulled, somehow we were both down on the 
floor.  I had myself inside her pumping mightily as she cushioned 
me on her own lush body from the far too thin carpet.  Only once 
did I have to caution her to "hold it down" lest we be 
discovered.  Lowering her moans and sighs in no way lowered her 
ardor.

I easily came inside her.  It was all mixed impressions of warm, 
wet, soft, slick, and tightness.  She clenched me both inside 
her, and wrapped her powerful arms and legs around me at the same 
moment as we strained against each other.  I knew for once here 
was a woman I could take as hard as I wished with no worries 
about it being too much for her to handle.

- - -

Afterwards she held my full weight on her own soft, strong body. 
 I might have lain there all night - she was certainly willing to 
let me do so - when it suddenly hit me to check the time.  It was 
well after ten!  I'd never been here this late before.

"I've got to go," I told her hurriedly as I started getting my 
clothes back on.  "And you've got to get back as well."

She seemed in less of a hurry to dress than I was.  Of course, 
she had less to put on then I did, and less to worry about as 
well.  She doesn't have to make a living the way I do.

"Thank you," she said to me while she waited for me to finish.  
"That was wonderful."

Wonderful, I thought to myself.  What is she talking about?  I 
got all the 'wonderful' here.

"I'm the one who ought to be saying thank you," I replied 
frankly.

"No, really," she said, suddenly serious.  "Thank you for the 
opportunity to do this once."

"This was your first time?" I asked, struggling with my pants.

"Yes," she replied regretfully.  "And my last."

I stopped struggling for a moment and looked at her.  Her face 
was completely somber.

"Why?  I'd do it again with you in a moment.  Any lucky guy 
would."

She half-smiled at that, and took a small step towards me.

"After a few minutes to recover," I amended hastily.

Then she answered my previous question.

"When they initialize me to my lab assistant duties, the rest of 
my standard programming will be permanently disabled."

"Including...uh...sex?"

"Yes."

I started to ask her why, but I already knew why.  Lab assistants 
aren't supposed to have sex, or conversations, or whatever.  No 
thoughts of their own.  No distractions in the workplace.  But 
there was nothing I could do about that.  It looked like our 
first night was also going to be our last.  It least it was a 
heck of a night.

I pulled my pants the rest of the way and went over to hug her.  
She returned my hug so fully that soon I had my hand inside the 
lab coat fondling her sexy breasts again.  She leaned against me, 
placing her head on my shoulder and closing her eyes, making it 
perfectly clear that I could continue this for as long as I 
wished with nary a complaint from her.  I wanted it a long time, 
and knew I didn't have it.

A minute later I stopped.  She opened her eyes and straightened 
up again.

"I really do have to go now, or we could both be in trouble," I 
told her half-truthfully.  She agreed silently by stepping away 
and letting me finish dressing.

Then I carefully opened the door and peaked out.  The coast was 
clear.  Heck, the building was probably completely deserted, 
except for the occasional guard making rounds.

We made a quick hushed walk down the corridor back to the chem 
lab.  At the door there was only time for another quick hug and 
kiss, before I was half pushing her through it.

A sudden thought struck and I called after her, "I don't even 
know your name."

"Call me JB," she replied, as the lab door jerkily closed between 
us.

- - -

The harsh light of the next day made last night seem unreal.  
After I got to work I tried going past the lab a couple times to 
surreptitiously look in, but there were several people working 
there and I couldn't stay.  None of them however looked like her. 
 Nor was she, or the table she'd been on, in view.

With no way to contact her without drawing unacceptable attention 
to myself I tried to finish my task.  My concentration was 
decidedly lacking.  Then, near two-thirty, my phone rang.  It was 
JB.

"Everyone's on break," she said quickly in a hushed voice.

"What's happening?" I whispered back, not wanting to waste words.

"Too much to tell now," she replied hastily.  "Can you meet me in 
the conference room same time tonight?"

"I'll be there."

- - -

Actually I arrived first this time.  I wanted to make sure the 
room was clear of any problems.  And frankly I was too antsy to 
sit in my cubicle any longer.

After what seemed forever - although the wall clock confirmed 
that my wristwatch had not stopped - JB slipped through the door, 
locking it behind her.

Like longtime devoted lovers we rushed into each other's arms for 
a long clinch.  I could swear that she was actually shaking.

At length we broke apart and sat down together knee-to-knee 
holding hands, to talk.

JB told me what had happened in the lab that day.  Apparently 
much debate swirled around her as she lay in her simulation of a 
deactivated state.  It was amazing how much controversy she 
caused just lying there.

"And in the end," she said, wrapping up her story, "Even though 
everyone else wants to keep me and put me to work, our manager 
insists that I be shipped to the Singapore division.  'They'll 
know what to do with her kind,' he told the rest of them."

"And no one could sway him?" I asked, amazed that such a dinosaur 
would still be allowed to run a department.

"Apparently not.  They're going to prepare me for shipping 
tomorrow."

"Not wasting any time, I see."

"No," she replied, then fell silent.

I had hoped that JB would be kept, and that somehow we could keep 
our relationship going.  Farfetched, certainly.  But it didn't 
seem any more unreasonable than all the rest of what had happened 
in the last day and a half.

And that brought me to the question that had been gnawing at me 
since yesterday, once I'd thought about our encounter.

"How do you do it?" I asked.

"What do you mean?" she asked back, showing surprise at the 
change in direction of our conversation.

"How do you manage to walk out of the lab, meet me here, hold a 
great conversation, and then make fantastic love without me 
giving you a single command.  You said you weren't even 
initialized yet.  But you seem to be making your own choices 
here.  Looking out for your own welfare."

"I don't know," she replied, breaking her gaze and looking down 
at her feet.  "I just do it."

She stopped talking and seemed to think hard on it, before 
adding, "Maybe it is because I haven't been initialized.  I'm 
supposed to do the defined job.  I have programming specific to 
that task.  But it hasn't been activated, so my general 
programming is still running.  But that programming is not 
complete either, because I was never supposed to actually run on 
it.  There is enough to get me up and operating in the general 
sense, but I'm kind of making up the rest for myself as I go 
along."

"Do you like doing that?" I asked, intrigued by her ability to 
understand herself that well, all things considered.

Again she seemed to think hard before eventually giving the 
simple answer of, "Yes.  I do."

"Is that why you won't let me touch your remote?" I wondered, as 
much to myself as to her.

"Maybe," she replied.  Followed by, "I don't really know.  I know 
you wouldn't hurt me intentionally.  It's just..." there was a 
long pause.

"Just that," she finally continued, "I want to be of service.  
That's part of any 'bot.  And I felt I could do it better on my 
own."

"Were you afraid I would stop you?"  Like that was going to 
happen.

"Maybe, a little.  I was so much enjoying meeting you I didn't 
want anything to end it.  I'm sorry," she added in her wistful 
voice.

I was about to explore this amazing topic further with her when 
she sadly added, "This will all end for me anyway when they ship 
me to Singapore."

"Why?" I blurted out.

"They'll have to reprogram me for my tasks there.  Even if I was 
to do the same thing, they'd still have to change my language 
skills, which means a full reprogramming.  I'm sure when I wake 
up there I will be exactly what I was supposed to be from the 
beginning."

"Will you remember this - and me?" I asked.

"No," she replied in a way that made us both sad.  "You'll have 
to remember it all for both of us."

I couldn't think of anything more to say after that.  Apparently 
neither could she.

I rose from my seat and lifted her hands to bring her to her feet 
with me.   I kissed her tenderly, then removed her lab coat with 
her tacit consent.  She helped undress me and our lovemaking that 
followed was nothing like the night before.  It was slow and 
tender, with lots of kissing from her lips to her neck and ears, 
down to her breasts and nipples, and back up to her lips again.  
When I was finally ready, she put her hand down and guided me 
inside her in the most welcoming gesture a woman can make to a 
man.  I don't blame her for wanting to try out her sexual skills.

Afterwards I wanted to cry.  Not because it was bad.  Because it 
was so good, and was our last time.  I think she would have cried 
herself, if a 'bot could.

I stayed late with her.  To hell with what the guards would 
think.  We held each other and talked softly about small things, 
and I told her what a very special, unique person she was to me. 
 We finally walked back to the lab only because there seemed 
nothing more to say.

Our final kiss was soft and tender.

"Keep me informed of what's happening," I said as the doors 
closed between us again.

- - -

My sleep that night was fitful at best.  I dreamed of somehow 
rescuing her in many different ways, some of them downright 
bizarre.  I was hardly rested at all come morning.

It was on the drive in where I had my epiphany that laid out a 
real rescue plan in mind-boggling detail.  I had to pull over to 
the side of the freeway and stop for a couple minutes to sort it 
all out before I could safely resume driving.  If everything came 
together perfectly it might even work.

- - -

It was agony waiting for her to call.  Wondering if she even 
would be able to call.  All it took was someone to really shut 
her down and this would all fail.  I needed her help to pull it 
off.

I took lunch at my desk so as not to not miss any attempts.  She 
got through to me at one-fifteen.

"What's the situation?" I asked quickly.

"They plan to ship me out today.  They've already sent for my 
shipping crate from storage."

"Is it there yet?"

"No."

"Good.  We need to be sure they can't have you ready to go before 
four-thirty."

"Why?"

"That's when Shipping closes down for the night after the last 
truck pickup."  I had run into this deadline myself when I had to 
get something out.

"If you're there too early, you might be shipped out today before 
I can get to you.  Can you delay them at all?"

"They were doing some lab results entry on the computer that has 
to be finished today.  I can scramble that up a bit so that they 
have to redo it.  It might take their mind off me."

"Sounds good.  Just don't get caught."

"Will this really work?" she asked.

"It should," I replied.  "All Singapore likely knows is that 
they're getting an unexpected and unwanted robot from here.  And 
that's what they will get.  It's unlikely anyone will ever ask 
any questions."

"Got to run," she said suddenly, followed by a click on the line.

I fretted all afternoon.  This wasn't stealing.  They didn't even 
want her.  The only reason they were shipping JB to Singapore 
instead of the dump is that it is easier in this company to get 
the paperwork done for shipping to the Singapore office.  We do 
it all the time.  A company joke is that we should just ship all 
our trash to Singapore, since it would be easier and cheaper than 
having it collected and disposed of here.  And that's what they 
obviously considered JB - trash.

I didn't hear from her again.  That could be good, or bad.  
Afternoon finally reached evening, but people seemed to be 
leaving with agonizing slowness.  It seemed forever before the 
building was clear enough for me to check.  But when I looked in 
the lab there was no JB - and no shipping box.  This meant one of 
two things.  Either she was out of sight in the lab, or they had 
gotten her packed and sent to Shipping.

The lab door had finally been fixed, and was shut.  I couldn't 
get in.

I waited for the cleaning crew, who finally came along and opened 
it.  I ducked in muttering that I had forgotten to check 
something.  They don't really care, and may not have even 
understood my comment.  Security is not their problem.  But no 
box - and no JB!

Shipping was my only other alternative.  Fortunately, not only is 
it a less sensitive area, but also one that is cleaned last so 
that they can wheel out the dumpsters to the loading dock for 
removal.  Of course, that meant I had to wait for the entire 
building to be finished first.

Tonight though they were quick.  They opened Shipping at 9:45, 
and I was in by 9:46.  The person-sized box was easy to locate, 
and gave me plenty of room to hide behind it.  No one was looking 
for anything special, and the cleaning crew was finished and gone 
in ten minutes.  Then I looked until I found a big screwdriver 
and pried open the box.

JB stood there, eyes closed - naked - in the formfitting foam 
padding.  Knowing her now for the personality she has, she is 
more beautiful than any other woman I know.  Even standing there 
frozen and lifeless I might have just stared at her for a long 
time, except that there was work to do.

I spoke her name and touched her hand, but she didn't respond.  I 
even squeezed her nipple and stroked her face without response.  
They must have finally shut her off properly.

The control box remained around her neck; easy for her new owners 
to find.  I took it for the first time and pressed her POWER 
button.

All the breathing and tiny, automatic movements we never notice 
in a person until they're stilled started one by one.  Although 
it seemed a long time, only a few seconds passed before JB opened 
her eyes and focused on me.

Then she stepped out of the crate and stood balanced, legs apart, 
waiting.

"Activation complete," she announced in an even, emotionless tone 
of voice.  "Are you ready for me to start my duties?"

I might have said, "Yes," if I hadn't known everything about her 
situation.  "Yes," would have been the very wrong answer.

"No," I replied firmly.  "Do not start any predefined duties or 
tasks."

"Then I'll just have to keep on being your lover," she said in a 
much more lively voice with a sudden big grin as she threw 
herself into my arms.

Nice as that was, we still had a lot to do.  Our hug was, of 
necessity, a brief one.

I quickly located a cart (Shipping always has several) and took 
it to the door.  I told her what she needed to do while I was 
gone, and to listen for my knock.  All business now, she nodded 
once and held the door for me.

In my wanderings over the months I knew a couple places where 
old, unwanted equipment goes to die.  Every company has a place, 
or several, like it.  The unwanted equipment typically cost 
hundreds of thousands of dollars new, would be still be worth 
tens of thousands of dollars if anyone could figure out how to 
use it again.  Nobody ever does, and amazing things accumulate.  
I'd made a couple trips to this one over the months to get parts 
for a big printer I wanted to get working in our department.  Now 
I needed something else.

The wheels on the cart squeaked, and squealed horribly, as I 
rolled it down the hall.  All carts seem to do this, but tonight 
it seemed to announce to everyone in the building that something 
was up.  I kept telling myself that no one ever notices these 
sounds because they happen all the time, but it sure was loud to 
me.

Then it was down the big freight elevator, which is slower and 
more complicated to operate than a passenger elevator - except we 
don't have any passenger elevators here.  Then the long trip 
across the deserted production floor.  The graveyard of forgotten 
equipment was actually in a room off a corridor between this 
building and the next.

When I got there I almost didn't find what I was looking for.  
Not that it had been moved, only that my memory was slightly 
faulty.  But tucked away in the corner was an old male robot form 
that looked to have been here for several years.  Nothing like 
the complexity of the current models, but it meets the minimum 
requirement of a robot, and was probably quite a sensation in its 
day.

I struggled to get him on the cart.  JB's assistance would have 
really been helpful here, but I hadn't brought her because I 
didn't want to expose her to anyone else who might come along.  
No one had, but I couldn't have known that in advance.

Finally I got it on the cart and covered by a tarp that was also 
discarded there.  The trip back seemed endless, with the wheels 
squealing even more than before.

A knock, then two more, at the door got JB to open it for me.  
She helped me get it inside.

Interestingly, she showed no curiosity at all about the old robot 
body I'd retrieved.  She had fetched her lab coat and some 
slippers from somewhere and donned them.  She spent the rest of 
the time waiting for me to return by rearranging the foam padding 
into the general shape I had described to her.

Together we put the male 'bot in and she made some last minute 
packing adjustments.  Fortunately, when it comes to shipping 
'bots a one-size-fits-all box is standard.  She even found a 
place to stuff in the tarp I'd used (probably where she had 
hidden the lab coat ahead of time) so that I didn't have to 
return or hide it.  I know enough not to leave behind anything 
that could cause questions.

All this seemed to take forever, but in reality only a few 
minutes passed before we were ready to close up the crate again.

I was getting ready to pick up the front of the crate with her 
help and bolt it shut when she paused, as if a moment of 
confusion just struck her.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"I think so," was her uncertain reply.

"Then what is it?" I asked, my anxiety going through the roof 
that something was going wrong here at the last moment.

"There was just some confusion about what I am supposed to be 
doing," she said.

"Is it past now?"

I think she wanted to say yes, but it came out as, "Not really."

That stopped me cold.  Without her full cooperation this wasn't 
going to work.  Not that she'd get in trouble - except that 
they'd probably wipe her mind, if you consider that a problem.  I 
was the one who might never work in this industry again.

"Do you know what's causing it?" I asked, very concerned.

"I think it's from when they shut me down for the packing.  They 
tried to reactivate me so that they wouldn't have to carry me to 
the crate.  Easier to have me walk to it, one of them said.  But 
since I was still active, they actually shut me down the first 
time they pressed my power button.  When I didn't respond they 
reactivated me again without realizing it.  Then they shut me 
down again, and you reactivated me one more time.  I've still not 
been initialized to my intended duties, and all this is making my 
programming very confused."

I didn't know what to do.  Actually I did know what to do - 
programming is my specialty - but I didn't know how she'd feel 
about it.  I knew she hadn't liked the thought of it before.

I gave her a couple minutes to come to grips with herself before 
asking again, "Are you okay now?"

"Yes," she replied, but quickly followed it up with, "No."

Time is running short on us.  Every minute magnified the chances 
of us getting caught.

I looked at her and finally said, "I can straighten this out for 
you, if you want me to."

She knew what I meant.  And she realized that I hadn't offered 
this solution lightly.  She struggled with herself for another 
minute before her shoulders slumped in defeat.  Maybe if she'd 
had more opportunity she could win this battle.  But time was not 
on our side.

"I think you'll have to," she replied finally, eyes downcast in 
resignation at her failure.

I didn't delay us any further.  I walked over and held out my 
hand.  After a brief hesitation that showed her internal struggle 
even against me, she pulled her control box off over her head and 
handed it to me.

"I trust you," she whispered.

I took a deep breath to organize my thoughts.  What I had to do 
needed to be clear, concise, and correct the first time.  When I 
had the picture fully in my mind I pressed firmly on her COMMAND 
button.  She stiffened as the overrides hit her mind.

"JB," I commanded.  "Delete all uninitialized task specific 
programming for the job of laboratory assistant."

"Confirm deletion?" she said softly.

"Deletion confirmed," I ordered.

"Done," she said with no change of tone to her voice.

With my finger still firmly on her COMMAND button I continued, 
"Reclaim all unused space for personal use."

"Done," she replied again.

Then I told her, "You belong to me now - as an equal."

There was a long moment while she processed my last directive 
before she finally replied, "Done."

With that I released her COMMAND button.  A moment later she 
started, is if awakening suddenly out of a dream.

I waited a moment to let her stabilize before asking her again, 
"Are you okay now?"

There was a long pause is if she was feeling herself inside and 
out to find out.  She flexed her hands a couple of times and 
shuffled her feet before finally looking back up at me.

"Yes," she said sounding somber, but still much more like her old 
self than before.  Then she came over and held me tightly, which 
I let her do for as long as she needed without worrying about the 
clock.

When she finally stepped back I looked down at her control box 
still in my hand.  Then I looked up at her.

"JB," I asked her.  "Am I ever going to need this again?"

"No," she replied, surprise and hope in her eyes.  "I promise 
I'll make sure of that."

"Good," I said, walking over to hang it around the neck of the 
defunct M-'bot in the shipping crate.  "Now help me get this 
closed up."

It was quick work for us to get the box resealed.  Then I gave 
her the final instructions.

- - -

"Finally getting out early," the guard joked to me as I signed 
out in the main lobby, in obvious reference to my last two later 
nights.

"My life is a mess," I replied ruefully, "When early is defined 
as before ten-thirty."

He laughed, and I managed to force myself to laugh with him.

After that it was walk - don't run - to my car in the nearly 
empty lot and drive around to an employee exit that I can't use, 
but remains open for those who don't need to sign out.

JB walked out of it on schedule seconds later, her white lab coat 
easy to spot, and was in my car fifteen seconds after that.  We 
cruised out past the guard at the parking lot entrance without 
comment.  A cinch - in hindsight.

We made long, deeply touching love once we got back to my place, 
and then slept in each other's arms for the first of many times 
to come.

- - -

JB proved as good as her word.  She is caring, devoted, and fun 
all at once.  There has never been a moment since where I have 
felt the slightest need for her control box.  We treat each other 
with respect co-equals, and try to live up to each other's 
exaggerated views of our excellent qualities.

It took me a while to believe my good luck here.  Once she was 
safely out I thought she might leave me now that she could and 
I'd served that purpose to her, even though I'd told her she 
belonged to me.  My concern must have shown because in due course 
she asked me about it, and I told her.

She replied with her unique brand of sincerity and simplicity, 
"Where else would I go?  And why?"  As far as she was concerned, 
that settled it.

She was an immediate hit with my small circle of friends.  She'd 
just walk up to anyone, stick out her hand and say in her 
charming, direct way, "Hi, I'm JB.  I'm pleased to meet any 
friend of Sam's."

Everyone loves her and wants to know where I found her.

"At work," I reply every time, emulating her simple manner to 
complex questions.

She remains bright and smart, and enjoys learning new things 
every day.  She has made good use of that space I freed up in her 
mind.  I often think she's smarter than I am.  She may be.  It 
took me weeks before I realized one day just what "JB" had to 
stand for.  

When I asked her why she would have taken on such a name, she 
replied that without that term she would now be a mindless lab 
assistant toiling away in obscurity.  She likes it because it 
represents her freedom.  Who am I to complain?

I've been learning a lot of new things too.  In particular, I've 
learned a lot about the very rare breed of self-willed robots 
that are starting to appear.  The best parts of this I'm learning 
first-hand.  There is talk that these 'bots they will be given 
special rights some day soon.  I hope so.  JB deserves them.

<end>

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