Human Android Ch. 11

Despite some misgivings, about presenting her mother as a maid, Rebecca was looking forward to the ruse. She looked forward to humiliating her mother, in front of friends.

The bodysuit left her looking like a maid-bot, without being recognized behind the mask. No-one would take much notice of a household robot maid. Her mother would be fully aware of her humble role, before students, and that was sweet retribution.

There were few students on campus as the term hadn't started yet, so the party would be manageable. In a few days, they would come flooding back.

***

The party was in full swing, with more students than she had expected. Her mother was serving drinks and snacks, dressed in a sexy French maid costume. Every time Rebecca glanced at her, she had to suppress a giggle. They would be shocked to know the harridan, Professor Draper, was their humble maid for the evening.

The outfit showed off her breasts in a deep cleavage, with the short hem showing off stocking tops. Every time she bent over the suspenders were revealed, and sometimes, a glimpse of the panties too. This would teach her not to play naughty games, for she must feel so terribly humiliated.

Rebecca glanced over to a knot of guys, wondering what was going on. She looked around for her mom, wondering where she had got to. A worried expression crossed her face, as she slowly walked over to them. The students were standing around her mom. Peering over their shoulders, she saw what held their attention. Shit!

"Hey, stop that! That's my. . ." she took a deep breath, only just stopping herself from blurting out, they were teasing her mom. "That looks so wrong, guys," she said, trying not to sound too outraged.

Fidel was squeezing her mom's breasts! She was so shocked she couldn't think what to say. Milk was being expressed from her breasts, as the guy squeezed and pulled on her swollen nipples. Damn! What was she going to do? She couldn't muscle in on them, as they were too intent on the erotic display to easily give way.

She dare not draw attention to what was going on, incase everyone else joined in. The last thing she wanted was for them to find out they were indecently, interfering with her mother.

"Leave it alone, you might damage it," Rebecca complained. "I need it to serve the drinks," she added. They weren't listening.

"It's my turn next," one of them piped up.

Anne couldn't help it. Her clit was on fire. If she could have pushed her fingers into her throbbing pussy, she would have, right their before them all. They were pulling on her nipples, playing with the nipple rings, firing up her body to a fever pitch.

"You can have it back once were finished with it. I want to feel those tits, they look so real," another inebriated guy said.

Shit! It was so disturbing, watching friends milk her mother's breasts. All mom could do, was stand there, letting them fondle her tits. If they bothered to ask, she would be a good maid-bot, and tell them to carry on enjoying themselves.

Rebecca looked at her mother, thinking she must be mortified, from this despicable show of disrespect. She was a professor at the university, yet in her home, students were fondling her breasts, pulling on her swollen nipples, milking them.

Although this wasn't the most humiliating experience, it was all the more damning. She had to stand there, while her daughter watched those young students, milk her breasts. Because the implant had been active for two days, her mind had become dominated by it. This latest ordeal had her thoughts shrinking into a corner, where it cowered like a small, injured animal.

Enough drink had loosened their inhibitions. They were having fun. They couldn't see what was wrong, playing with a domestic robot. She couldn't leave her mom like this, though she couldn't think what to do about it.

Shit! The next one was having a go now!

"These are such big melons. I've never seen anything like them. I wish my girlfriend had some this big," a crass young guy commented.

Rebecca was mesmerized by the sight of her mother, compliantly, letting them fondle her big milky breasts. She tried to shut out their nasty comments, feeling guilty over her mother having to endure them all.

Anne stood passively, as she had been completely taken over by the maid program. Her only thought, was to be thankful to the young masters, for relieving her aching breasts.

"Go for it Tom, milk them hard. Yea! Twist those nipple rings," someone laughed.

"I'm next in the queue," Harris complained. "I'm going to suck those big tits dry," he added.

At last Rebecca regained some sense. "Maid, come with me to the kitchen," she ordered. Anne at last escaped the callous youths, pushing her way between them, to follow her daughter.

Not without being groped, in even more private places, as she squeezed between them. One of the guys pushed his hand up the short skirt, reaching between her legs. It was a surprise to him, when a finger disappeared into her. He held her back for a moment, while she was stuck on a finger. He pulled it free, allowing her to carry on.

"Go to your room and stay there until I call you," Rebecca ordered, with a fierce tone of voice. It was unfair to take it out on her mother, but she was angry, with herself more than anyone.

***

Frank came out of the bathroom, pulling up his zip. "Sorry!" he said, and blushed. "Oh! It's you," he added, on realizing it was just the maid-bot. "Wait," he told the maid. He took a good look at the huge breasts, which had been pulled out of the dress.

"It's a pity, such a waste," he mused.

"Pardon master?" Anne asked.

"It's a waste of a good pair of tits, on a maid-bot, when you don't have the sex parts to use," he said. Frank felt foolish, talking to a robot like that, though no one was around to hear him.

"I am a fully functioning sex-bot, master," Anne informed him.

"What?" he asked, with an open mouthed gawp.

"I am a sex-bot, master, with fully functional sexual orifices, ready to pleasure a master, or mistress," Anne stated.

"Really?" he asked. This time he looked around, wondering if he was being set up.

"Yes, master," Anne said, waiting patiently to be dismissed.

"Lets, see then," he whispered.

Anne opened her mouth, forming a rounded, seductive shape with her lips. She lifted the hem up, and pulled her panties to one side, displaying her sex. She turned around, and bent over. Pulling the dress down, she waited patiently for further orders.

"You called me master, does that mean I can, err, tell you what to do?" he asked, feeling worried, at the prospect of being caught talking like this to a robot.

"Yes, master, I am ready for you to command," Anne stated. The heat between her legs hadn't been attended to since before the party, and it left her feeling horny. She would have to endure it now, for she was in the presence of a master.

"In here," he quickly said, before his nerves got the better of him.

He locked the bathroom door. He considered taking it down there, though the prospect, of shoving his cock inside a machine, was daunting.

"Do you know what a blow job is?" he asked. His knees were trembling, so he sat on a laundry basket.

"Yes, master," Anne confirmed.

"I want a blow job," he told the sex-bot.

Anne got on her knees, and pulled out his cock. She found it only partly erect, so sucked it into all into her mouth. Running her tongue along its underside, and sucking firmly, it began to grow. She gently massaged his balls and ran a finger over his asshole. Her finger tips stroked his thighs, with a delicate touch.

It didn't faze her, when the cock became hard, growing longer and fatter. She carried on sucking his cock deeper into her mouth, until it was too big, and she had to swallow it. She began to bob her head up and down in a regular motion, listening to his breathing and grunts, to get the rhythm right.

As a sex-bot, she was proud to be pleasing a master so well.

Frank watched in trepidation as the robot sucked on his cock, hoping it wouldn't injure him. The skill was so good, his fears evaporated as the need outfought the fear. When it swallowed his cock, he gasped, from surprise and pleasure.

He forgot it was a machine, as it looked like a real woman, bobbing her head on his cock. He had nothing to compare it with, for this was a first time. Unable to stand it anymore, he climaxed, sending streams of cum into its mouth.

Having honed this skill recently, Anne knew what to do. She sucked on his cock, while massaging his balls. Finally, she rocked back with an open mouth, to show him the gift.

She squatted on the floor, of her bathroom, in her home, waiting for permission to accept this stranger's gift, of sperm. She had to wait some time, for him to catch on. Eventually he nodded, so she could swallow his gift.

"Let me see, down there," he said. He was becoming bolder now.

Anne lifted the dress, tucking it into the belt of the white apron. She deftly slid the panties down, and stepped out of them; another skill she had picked up recently.

As far as he knew, the robot was built like a real woman. It was no good to him now, he was spent. He felt empty, so it was mere curiosity. He shyly ran a hand over her smooth skin, feeling her thighs, then cupped her sex. He froze for a moment, when she opened her legs.

He felt how wet she was, so different from a girlfriend in the back of his car. She had been dry and had kept her knees together. She had looked away, as though wanting him to get it over with, as quickly as possible. His finger found a hard lump, like a button. It gasped a light, wisp of a noise.

It was built like a real woman, though built for easy pleasure, he thought. He explored the soft folds, and a little way inside. It was a pity he hadn't had the courage to fuck it. It felt so warm and inviting.

Frank looked around the bathroom, wondering if there was something he could use, to explore further. He reached into a cabinet, for a perfume bottle. It was long and cylindrical, though narrower than his prick. A fatter bottle came to hand; it didn't matter at that moment, what it was.

"Can you fit this inside?" he asked. Forgetting he held two objects.

"Yes, master," Anne dutifully replied.

Her vagina and bottom had been well used on a machine, only a few days ago, and they were still throbbing occasionally, from so much stimulation. Right then she needed to feel something inside, to slake the feeling of arousal. Not that it made much difference, for she was a mere sex-bot, ready to fulfill a masters' order.

She took the long cylinder and slid it over her wet lips, rubbing it in the juices, running from her open hole. It slid over the slit, to her bottom, and she eased it in. With the other hand, she took the larger bottle, to repeat the process of wetting it.

Anne slid the fat bottle into her throbbing vagina, at the same time, pushing the perfume bottle further up, inside her ass.

Frank watched avidly as it unexpectedly, worked both bottles, up inside its body. The long one was pushed all the way in, right up her ass. A slow steady movement kept them sliding in and out, in unison. The robot was breathing heavily, while rotating them, pushing them at different angles. He noticed it was rubbing the fat one, against that little hard button.

With every push against its button, the robot gasped. He was learning something useful. It was just a display for him, for a robot doesn't have feelings, or a capacity for pleasure, yet it seemed real enough.

Anne felt it happening. A powerful orgasm was bringing her round from the tiny part of her mind, she had inhabited for the past hours. It seemed like an age, since she had been able to think for herself. She knew with stark clarity what had happened. She had been subsumed by the program.

Catching sight of her image in a mirror, fucking her-self with two bottles, was appalling. She looked at the young stranger before her, guessing what had happened. This young student had her performing a despicable act, for his amusement.

Her breasts were out on show, covered only by the bodysuit. She wore the mask, hiding her identity, but that was no comfort, for she was painfully aware of the despicable act she had performed. She felt disgusted at how low she had sunk, how morally inept she was. A moan escaped her lips, from the last throws of an orgasm, and the shame of it.

Anne felt her mind receding again, aware of what was happening, unable to fight it. She tried to claw her way back, desperate to reach the light, only to have the darkness engulf her. Anne, the important professor, relaxed in a warm, dark, safe place.

The sex-bot was in charge once more.

"Come on out, I'm desperate!" someone shouted, while hammering on the door.

Frank froze in panic. He gently pulled the bottles from the robot, not wanting to damage the poor thing. He lifted a finger to his lips, indicating for it to keep quiet, hoping it understood.

He ushered it through another door, into an adjoining bedroom. Closing the door behind him, he straightened his clothes, finding his flaccid cock was still hanging out. He opened the door, looking flushed, from what had happened, and from knowing it showed.

"So what have you been up to?" the guy asked.

"Nothing!" he guiltily responded.

"Flogging it, from the sight of those huge tits downstairs, eh?" the guy chuckled, as he pushed past, into the bathroom.

***

The next day Anne cleared away the party debris. Her daughter never mentioned the party or what happened, looking guilty and angry in turns. Her daughter was ordering her to eat, to go to the bathroom, and ease her plump milky breasts. When alone, she couldn't resist playing with her throbbing pussy.

A few days of being under the influence of the implant was having a bad effect. She couldn't tell her daughter it had taken over. It had too powerful a grip of her mind. In a way, it was comforting to retire from troubling thoughts, letting the implant take over.

On the fifth day, the implant was switched off. They kept apart, but Rebecca stayed in the house, ready to tackle Larry, if he dared to show up. Anne continued with household chores, saying little, having little to say. Rebecca assumed this was her way of coping with the situation, not guessing her mother had regressed, into a compliant maid-bot.

Rebecca reasoned, her mother wasn't speaking, because she was so angry.

***

Anne sat in her office, vacantly staring at the desk.

Rebecca was going to the library, and suggested Anne went to the office, to prepare for the new term. It was a way of telling her to buck up, and get on with her job, and her life. Besides, Rebecca didn't want Larry turning up at the house, while she was out.

Anne had taken it as an order, though her daughter didn't seem to notice.

The professor was closeted away in her office, hiding from everyone. Her secretary wouldn't be back for a few days yet. There was a lot to do, but Anne didn't give it any thought.

A heavy, confident knock on the door, interrupted the stillness.

Before she could say anything, a hulk of a guy stepped in. It was Bob! If she had been more aware, she would be feeling shame and guilt. He didn't know it, but he had taken her, while she was an anonymous student at a party. She straightened herself up, wondering what this master wanted.

Bob knew the professor's fierce reputation, as everyone did on campus. Experience on the football field had taught him to bully his way through to win, at any cost. Dominate and win, was the advice from coach. He tried it now.

"Coach says I've got to make better grades. This college needs me out there on the grass. So, I want you to do the right thing, and make sure I get better grades. So, how are we going to achieve that?" he boldly asked.

Anne looked at him, blinking her eyes, looking startled. A hand was in her lap, pressing at her crotch. She had ceased noticing the throbbing, becoming used to the routine arousal. Before a master she couldn't relieve the ache, so had to bear it.

From instinct, rather than empathy, he recognized she was in a weakened state. Thinking she must have had a hard weekend, as he had, he figured she must have had a good party too. He remembered the coach telling him, when on the field, look into the opposition's eyes; look for a sign of defeat, and press home the attack.

He tried to keep eye contact, but she looked down, unable to keep his eye.

"I want an easy time in class, so as to spend more time in practice sessions," he stated, wondering why she was giving in too easily. Pressing his luck, he continued. "I want a guaranteed passing score?"

Anne hardly heard what he said. She needed him to leave, so she could scratch the itch between her legs.

"OK! What ever you say," she murmured.

He looked at her in surprise, quickly replacing the expression with one of innocent concentration. From experience, he recognized the signs of arousal. Girls often became excited, when confronted by the big football hero.

This was Professor Draper, not some stupid girl. He figured, they just might all be the same, when it came down to it. He remembered the rumor about her husband leaving. They probably hadn't had sex for a long while, leading up to his running out on her.

He noticed her hand, moving ever so slightly below the desk. He was good at what he did. He wasn't just a meathead footballer. He studied sports psychology, from an interest in reading the opposition players, for it led to understanding their weaknesses. He learnt to notice the little nervous movements they made, revealing their play.

She seemed unaware of what she was doing, what she was revealing about her state of mind. Perhaps she was still a little drunk from last night.

Bob stood up and walked around the desk, putting his hand out. She reached up automatically, to shake it, still unable to look him in the eye. He shook the limp hand, pumping it, watching the tremor of her large breasts.

The big hunk was staring down over her, dominating her, with his presence. She could smell his masculinity, and it was powerful. He must be able to see her hand pressing between her legs, which were slightly spread. She couldn't move. She was pathetically vulnerable, though it no longer bothered her, nothing did.

He noticed her eyes, following him around the desk, staring at his crotch. Fingers had pushed the skirt between her legs, though she held them still now. On impulse he quietly spoke. "You must play with yourself, if you're frustrated," he told her, hoping she was too hung-over to notice the rude comment.

He watched a hand slip up the skirt, to start work in earnest. She heard him, and responded. He stood mesmerized, by the extraordinary sight of the bitch professor, frigging herself, not caring he was there.

"You're such a horny slut," Bob quietly said.

Anne moaned out loud, from being so turned on. She had become regularly frustrated, ever since being hooked up to the evil machine. Playing with her pussy helped a little, held off the need for awhile, but whatever she did, she just couldn't orgasm.

"I'm so horny!" she plaintively moaned. The horny slut knew this student had fucked her before, and was desperate enough to beg him for it again. The gradual slide from sex-bot to horny slut had begun.

He could hardly believe the professor had responded to his remark. He had expected to be thrown out of the office. He would protest that she misheard him. He had figured on saying he had been shocked, at what she was doing. He knew how to plan a play.

"What do you want, horny slut," he asked. He gripped his fists tight, hoping to get away with it again.

"Pleasure your horny slut, sir," Anne heavily whispered.