Deanna's Surprise Pt. 01

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 judgment 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 would've love to be the owner of someone as sexy as Reika! And I don't even know her, for...!"

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

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

"They don't have one," he stated. "Right now, they're under the protection of a trust set up by their first owner'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 mary janes, walk out from around the corner, where the worker entrance to the Retreat was located. "Hi, sis!" Irene waved as Reika came up, then both enjoyed a slow, more-than-sisterly hug and kiss before they turned to look at me. "I just met one of your new fans," Irene gave me a smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No, thanks," I 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 five years ago by an independent robot technician, Marlenn Ioanis. Two of the old classrooms on the south side of the building had been rebuilt into Marlenn's private laboratory. The remainder of the building, save for the furnace room, had been changed into an office, private quarters for Marlenn and small dormitory-like rooms for any freed robot who might come to Welland seeking temporary lodging.

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

I turned to face Irene, one of my hands moving to unfasten my skirt as certain relays deep within my mind turned over, causing a series of welcome changes concerning my body's various sexual systems. As one hand pushed my skirt and panties to the floor, my other one beckoned Irene into the room. She came willingly, her own hands moving to undress herself. Seeing her flawless body, a near match for my own save for slightly smaller breasts and less-accentuated hips, I shuddered as a familiar rush flooded my loins. Without asking, Irene moved to unbutton my shirt, her other hand reaching down to cup the beautiful penis that had grown from the 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.