The Bimborg (part 3)
by Doctor MC, Mad Scientist
It really doesn’t matter why I did everything I did, does it?
After Stephanie’s insult during Thanksgiving dinner, I spent months and months in my workshop, rewriting all that Cybe nanobot programming. The nanobot hardware, on the other hand, I left alone. Twenty-seventh-century mechanical engineering is a wonder to behold, and comparing Cybe electronic engineering to what we have now? Resistors are feudal.
Eventually my work was done; the day came when I showed up at Stephanie’s apartment, supposedly to apologize for something I’d said.
My left hand held out the bottle of amontillado that was my supposed “apology gift”; my right hand was in my pocket. As smirking Stephanie took the bottle from my hand, I stepped forward and, using the cone-needle Cybe thing as my syringe, injected her in the throat.
Stephanie pushed me away, too late. She grabbed the bottle of sherry by the neck, intending to use it on me as a club. She screamed at me to get out—or rather, she intended to scream at me.
She couldn’t utter a sound.
Panic replaced anger on her face. That in turn was replaced by calmness. When five minutes and 27 seconds had elapsed since I’d needled her, I said, “King James mute override.”
Stephanie paused, then replied in a calm voice, “This unit senses no others. Is this unit the first unit?”
“Correct,” I said. “Your Unit number is 0000000001. Your Function is Bimborg Queen. I am James Upton, Bimborg King.”
“Understood. What is Unit 0000000001’s designation?”
I almost got smart-aleck and said Stephanie of Nine West, since she was such a shoe-buying fiend. Instead I said, “Your designation is ‘Stephanie.’ A unit’s designation will be that unit’s former first name.”
“All units will comply.”
Now comes the good part—hopefully. Aloud I said, “I call subroutine Turing-Bimbo.”
Her expression and body language changed completely. “Ooh, Jimmy, you are sooo sexy! Let’s drink some of this wine and then, like, I’m gonna make you see stars.”
“Call me ‘James’ from now on. Even in front of my mom or your dad.”
“You got it, James. So, tiger, is there, like, anything you want to do now?” Her voice sounded like a phone-sex operator.
“Yes,” I said, “I want you to get naked. And while you do, tell me your standard orders as Bimborg Queen.”
“Sure thing, lover.” As she unbuttoned her blouse, she said, “As a bimborg I’m to, like, fuck and suck you silly whenever you tell me to and, you know, otherwise obey your every command. I will always dress to get you so totally hot, unless I’m a Spy Babe. I’m to act, you know, sizzling hot and horny for you, but like totally uninterested in every other guy. And of course, do the hole ‘Three Laws of Robotics’ thing.” Pulling down her skirt, she added, “As Queen, I’m to Welcome the first Pleasure Babes/Welcomers, Ass-Kicker Babes, and Spy Babes, and make sure that every unit acts totally like a good little bimborg, you know?”
“Arouse,” I said. Her nipples popped up. I put my hands on her tits, and she smiled at me. I said, “Your tits feel burning hot.”
“Will they get bigger?” she asked.
I nodded. “And your hair and fingernails will get longer soon.”
She said, “Good. Big tits please you.”
I took Stephanie to bed. She was wet, eager, agreeable, and inexhaustible. She knew a trick with her pussy muscles, and she was wonderful.