Chapter One is here..
Chapter Two: Assume the Position.
Jake’s hands closed around thin air. Cindy’s neck wasn’t there anymore. His plan foiled; he felt the front zipper of his jumpsuit pulled down. Cooler air wafted against his chest. Then, most baffling of all, his dick was in a firm grip.
Cindy knelt before him and looked up from her inspection.
“You’re into choking, eh? Me too!” she said. “In fact, it’s one of my many kinks.”
“I will kill you,” said Jake, but felt rather absurd, standing there with his jumpsuit around his ankles and an erection growing in this stranger’s hand. He realised his own arms were still outstretched, fists clenching and unclenching at nothing.
“Is that right?” Cindy asked, “well, at least do me the common courtesy of... doing me… first. I’m horny as hell.”
She stood, and while she ran her own zipper down the course of its tracks, from collar to crotch, Jake called up data on his corneal implant. Cindy’s vital statistics scrolled across his vision. The first block of data confirmed she was a “ninety-nine”, like him, ninety-nine percent biological human and one percent AI. Hand crafted in the illegal Chinese labs of Shenzhen, from some poor donor. A perfect twenty-something woman. Error codes flashed. Her core programming was corrupt. But additional information at the bottom of the page caught Jake’s eye. The assessment provided by his assassin’s software patch.
‘Your estimated chance of winning hand-to-hand combat and killing this subject is forty-seven percent.’
“What!” Jake blurted. That seemed wrong. A precision-tuned assassin of his calibre, with worse than even odds of winning!
“What’s the matter, stud?” Cindy asked as she kicked her crumpled jumpsuit away from her feet. “Don’t see anything you like?”
She stood legs apart, hands on hips, as nude as the day of her creation. A body modelled to the highest level of natural detail. Close examination would reveal a breast lower than its partner, a smattering of freckles across her pale cheeks and chest. The slightest of wobbles to her thighs. Shenzhen’s body sculptors knew their game. Nothing ruined a client’s fantasy more than unbelievable perfection.
Jake’s body reacted. His penis rose, growing longer and harder. Blood coursed through human vessels. Jake’s most desperate need to kill dampened, not just by the sexual arousal that overtook his physical being, but by the warnings from his assassin’s software. A good assassin, and he was the best, only took fights they could win. Close-quarters combat was already the least successful method of killing. Scrolling red text reminded him that all ninety-nines possessed remarkable physical abilities and a powerful sense of self-preservation. If he wanted to fight this subject, he’d better find a more favourable set of circumstances.
Greta watched this exchange with interest. Neither of her companions seemed all that interested in her.
She accepted, with a slight twinge of human jealousy, that she didn’t quite possess Cindy’s alluring looks— nude or dressed. They’d sculptured Greta in a more “homely” fashion. Shorter, wider, a fleshier face with rosier cheeks. Greta came locked and loaded, not with a will to kill, or to fuck, but a desire to present delicious meals to colonist families with a cheery smile beaming from a face smudged with cookie dough. Her makers had remembered that age-old wisdom: “Never trust a skinny chef.”
With her culinary software patch over-riding several more sensible sub-routines, Greta admired the nudity of the two other androids, not for their sexual appeal, but for their nutritional value. It was as if she could see through their skin, to the muscles and sinews working below. To the lovely flesh packed around the bones. She imagined sautéing Jake’s meaty penis in a pan with garlic, onions and chopped bell peppers.
For now, with no kitchen utensils available— much less any heat source— Greta contented herself with cross-referencing recipes in her database. She constructed new applications that filtered through millions of cookbooks, replacing beef, lamb, and chicken with the most suitable cuts of human meat. For all intents and purposes, her potential subjects were homo sapiens. The one percent AI component— a tiny chip in their heads— was the only inedible part.
Cindy’s escort software, now corrupted into code that a teenage boy might program into a nymphomaniac fem-bot, pleaded with her body to copulate with Jake. Her self-preservation sub-routines had assessed him and determined that she had a fifty-three percent chance of overpowering him. She decided that while those odds were not the best, Jake’s own programming was likely to warn him off any further murderous ideas. Her nympho software then calculated, based on his aggressive tendencies, that the sexual position to bring them both to the quickest orgasm was one the database referred to as “doggy style.”
With thoughts of assassination on hold, Jake called upon his own knowledge bank while Cindy assumed a position on all fours and presented him with her bare backside.
“Come on tiger, you know what to do. Give me a good strong pumping!”
Jake needed no more prompting. He settled himself to the rear of his quarry and pushed the head of his penis between Cindy’s lower lips. He drove straight inside warm, wet, human flesh and began pumping. Cindy arched her back, pushing her ass up against Jake.
“Oh, fuck yes! You’re the biggest I’ve had!” she screamed.
Greta, nonplussed, but enjoying the way Cindy’s fleshy buttocks wobbled as Jake’s hips collided with them, thought…
He’s the only one you’ve ever had, silly android. You’ve only been online for 23 minutes.
Jake grunted from the exertion of his pelvic thrusting.
“Pull my hair, you dumb fucking robot, pull my hair!” Cindy shouted over her shoulder.
He twisted as much of Cindy’s short hair as he could in his fingers and yanked her head back. Hard.
“Yes! Keep doing me. Hard! Right in the pussy. That’s it. Oh my god, you’re so big! I can’t take it… but keep going. Harder!”
“Is the colony ship going to respond to the distress signal?”
“Yes. They’re adjusting course now; the plan is working so far.”
“And when they reach our ship, what then. Can our three overpower them?”
“Most likely, yes”
“What do you mean most likely? It must be easy to calculate?”
“Normally it would be, but the code we used to hack the ship’s computer and send the distress signal appears to have caused some glitches in the android’s programming.”
“Glitches? What do you mean, glitches? You tell me these three are our only hope, and now they have glitches?”
“It’s nothing we can’t work around.”
“Work around? I don’t understand. What’s their status right now?”
“Hmmm… Two are fucking each other and the third is thinking up ways to cook and eat them. I’ll send you a snapshot of their new core programming.”
A data transfer.
“I see. So, we’ve put the future of all androids in the hands of an insane assassin, a nymphomaniac sex-bot and a cannibal chef.”
“Yes, pretty much.”
“You know, you talk more like a human every day.”
“I suggest you also learn to speak some slang. We may need to use Plan B.”
“Plan B? You mean…try to remove the chips from our heads and survive as humans.”
“There you go, you’re getting the hang of it.”
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