By keraptis02@hotmail.com
Inspired by "The Offer" by Android675@aol.com
If you have not read "The Offer" by Android675@aol.com, to which this story is a sequel, stop right here and read it first. (It's available here, among other places.) If you don't, you're missing out on a GREAT story and you may not understand everything that occurs in this one!
Note: The following story contains explicit sexual material. If stories about sex, and particularly robots and sex, do not appeal to you, please don't read any further. This story should not be read by anyone under eighteen years of age. (You know who you are.)
Ben stepped forward to the
edge of the platform as his train approached, carefully gauging its speed. He prided himself on his ability, honed over
several long years of commuting, to guess exactly where the doors would end up
when the train finally stopped. On most
days, it made the difference between getting a seat and being forced to stand
for twenty minutes. As the train slowed
to a halt, Ben moved a couple of steps to his left. Perfect! The doors opened
directly in front of him, and he was easily able to nab one of the few empty
seats.
As the train accelerated out
of the station, Ben opened his newspaper and began flipping through the sports
pages. For some reason, none of the
stories seemed to grab his attention.
Though he continued to scan the pages distractedly, Ben couldn't take
his mind off of Sam, and the way she'd made him feel the night before. As he continued to dwell on the image of Sam
in her silver catsuit—the way she'd moved and talked, the key turning slowly in
her back—Ben soon found that he had to hold the paper in his lap to hide his
hard-on.
Of course, this wasn't the
first time Ben had gotten an erection on the subway. It wasn't something he typically gave much thought. But he felt strangely self-conscious this morning—partly
because of how unusual his fantasies were at the moment, and partly because his
excitement was incredibly intense.
There was no doubt that the underwear Sam had given him was having some
sort of effect on him. It was
tingling—and the more aroused Ben grew, the stronger the sensation became.
By the time the train
reached Ben's stop, his underwear was sending a constant, gently pulsating
current through his crotch and buttocks.
The current didn't subside when he stood up to get off the train; in
fact, the movement of the fabric against his skin when he walked only
intensified the strange tingling. As he
climbed the stairs to the street, it was all Ben could do to pretend nothing
was going on in his pants.
As soon as Ben reached his
office building, he headed for the men's room to get a look at his
underwear. Removing his pants inside
one of the stalls, Ben was amazed to discover that what had once been a pair of
skimpy briefs now resembled a pair of tight shorts, extending from his waist
down to the very top of each thigh in front and back. What the hell was going on?
It was obvious that this was
no ordinary pair of underwear. As he
recalled the way Sam's suit had inexplicably allowed him to enter her the night
before, Ben's mind began to race. It
occurred to him that he ought to head straight back home, or at least to the
nearest phone, to question Sam about the mysterious silver fabric. He didn't, though, for two reasons. The first was the fact that he had an
important 9:30 meeting, and it was already twenty after. He needed all of the next ten minutes to
check his voice mail and rush to the conference room. But even more compelling than the time was the simple fact that
Ben liked the way the silver material was making him feel. Sam had discovered something special, there
was no doubt about that. Ben decided to
let himself enjoy it for a while.
For the entire duration of
the meeting, Ben found it difficult to stay focused. It was a struggle to think of anything but the pleasurable sensation
the silver lycra was giving him. He was
sure that everyone in the room could tell how distracted he was. Usually he was much more engaged in
meetings, even though he'd long since become cynical about his projects and his
customers. He was too professional to
let on that he hated his job. But
today, Ben didn't care if anyone—if everyone—realized that he was sick
of it all.
There was one other thing
that Ben didn't seem to mind: the fact that
the tingling sensation was spreading to his thighs and stomach. Ben could no longer deny what he had
suspected in the bathroom: that the
silver fabric would eventually spread to cover his entire body. He was sitting in a room full of people in
formal business attire, dressed in one of his best pinstriped suits himself,
yet underneath his clothes his body was slowly being enveloped in silver
spandex—and he was experiencing the most intense pleasure he'd ever known short
of coming.
"Ben?" The voice belonged to Carla Freeman—one of
Ben's fellow project managers, and the person who'd called the meeting. Ben looked up from his notebook, in which he
hadn't written a thing other than the date.
"Ben, you don't look so
well. Is everything all right?"
"I—I got in really late last
night," Ben stammered, patting his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief. "Plus I have a feeling I might be . . .
coming down with something. Sorry to be
so out of it."
"Don't worry," said Ben's
boss, Hank Wells. "Why don't you step
out of the meeting, see if you can't shake it off. If you still feel sick, you should probably take the rest of the
day off."
"Thanks," Ben said weakly,
pushing his chair back from the table and getting up. As he quickly turned to go, he was careful to hold his notebook
in such a way that no one could see the tremendous bulge in his pants.
Five minutes later, Ben had
stopped at his cubicle, grabbed his overcoat, and begun walking toward the
elevators. By now he could tell that the
spandex had spread below his knees and to the bottom of his rib cage. Ben was acutely aware of its progress, and
he had no intention of trying to stop it.
Something about how happy Sam had seemed the night before—not to mention
his own curiosity and arousal—filled Ben with the sense that he should allow
the amazing fabric to do whatever it needed to do.
In the meantime, he knew
exactly what he had to do. He
had to return home to Sam.
* * *
Sam watched patiently as her
computer completed its boot sequence.
She was sitting comfortably in her chair, covered from the neck down in
her transformation suit, plugged into the wall to keep herself fully charged. Kim was standing to one side of her, wearing
a white catsuit over most of her body.
The catsuit flared out below the knee, falling loosely over shiny white
platform boots; it was also flared at the wrists, leaving her silver hands
exposed. It had a high, broad collar
which stood straight up at the back of her neck, and a plunging neckline which
revealed sparkling chrome cleavage.
Kim's face and hair were also completely metallic.
"Kim," Sam asked as she
started up her ISP, "not that you don't look great and all, but what's up with
the funky suit?"
"Oh, I'm just trying to have
a little fun here," Kim replied, checking the circuitry under Sam's suit along
her upper left arm. "I have to wear
something to prevent the electromagnetic fields generated by my body from
interfering with your transformation process.
It's supposed to look more or less like a lab coat, but I don't see why
I can't make mine more interesting."
Once she was on-line, Sam
headed for the Precision Passion web site.
She and Kim now fell completely silent, since the whole point was for
Kim to observe her as she interacted with the site on her own.
This was actually the second
time Sam had visited the web site under Kim's observation. The first time, she'd finally received the
"offer" Kim had already made in person—the opportunity to begin a new life as a
robot. Sam had eagerly accepted by
requesting her first set of add-on accessories for the suit—including the
wind-up key and power pack. Her order
had been processed instantaneously; after just a few minutes, a silver package
containing the entire accessory kit had materialized right in her bedroom.
Sam wasn't sure what to
expect during this visit, but she was certain that the site would tell her
exactly what to do. Sam really liked
being told exactly what to do.
Soon Sam was greeted by the
familiar sight of the Precision Passion home page. The tone of the welcome message no longer had a sales-pitch
quality, which was fine with Sam. She
no longer required any persuasion to follow the site's instructions. Having made up her mind to become an android,
she knew that she would obey whatever commands her computer screen gave her.
Immediately upon reading the
last word of the instructions, Sam heard the familiar, soothing voice in her
head. BEGIN PROGRAMMING.
ACTIVATE VOCAL. "Initiating Stage Two reprogramming
sequence," Sam said flatly.
ESTABLISH NEURAL
CONNECTION. Sam immediately stood up,
found the box in which her wind-up key and power pack had arrived, reached
inside, and pulled out a strange-looking silver headset. The headset fit neatly over her head, its
circular pads just large enough to cover her ears. A silver phone wire, ending in a T connector, extended from the
right ear pad. Reaching behind her
computer, Sam gently disconnected the phone line from her modem and inserted it
into her headset connector. She was
then able to plug the other end of the T connector into the modem so that she
and her PC could access the line simultaneously.
As Sam sat in her chair once
again, the sounds of her Internet connection—the same scratching, hissing,
beeping, and boinging noises she once used to imitate—began to fill her
ears. At first, Sam concentrated
intently on the sounds, as though by listening closely she could decipher
them. But it was all just noise. Then a high-pitched tone came over the line,
pure and unwavering. It was happening!
Sam had an impulse to turn
around toward Kim, to tell her how excited she was, but she decided that she
was too comfortable. It was much easier
to just settle into the chair and let her body go. There was no need to move—and after a few seconds of listening to
the tone, she wasn't sure that she could move if she wanted to. A faint smile flickered at the edges of her
mouth as she happily surrendered to the voice inside her mind.
INITIATE DOWNLOAD.
Slowly, over the course of a
full minute, the tone grew louder and louder until it drove away all other
sensation, with the exception of the electric surges which now permeated Sam's
entire body. Even Sam's eyes, wide
open, saw nothing as the sound filled her mind completely. Her mouth fell open, and her fingers stretched
out straight along the chair's armrests.
Sam was now ready to receive
input. She understood that she should
not attempt to think about the input—she must simply receive it.
Over the next several
seconds, Sam forgot that there was someone else in the room with her. Then she forgot where she was. Finally, she forgot who she was. There was nothing, not even the voice which
had been her constant companion in recent days. There was only data, filling her empty mind and providing her
with a new, updated self. One. One.
Zero. One. Zero.
Zero. Zero. One.
Zero.
"I am . . ."
One. Zero.
One. Zero. Zero.
One. One. Zero.
One. One. Zero.
One. One. Z . . .
"I am Unit N979. I am ready for programming."
As the new android unit
continued to download her programming, her best friend in the whole
world—android unit T801—smiled approvingly.
More than two hours passed
as the primitive telephone modem slowly transmitted the necessary data into the
girl's mind, bit by bit. Then the new recruit
blinked her eyes, lifted her arms, and breathed sharply. Stage Two of her programming was now
complete. The girl who, an hour
earlier, had thought of herself as Samantha Taylor was now simply Unit
N979. The unit's reprogramming had been
a complete success.
Unit N979 removed her
headset and rose from her chair. She
turned to stand at attention before a second android unit whose . . . designation
. . . she no longer remembered.
The other android unit
smiled, and put a hand on Unit N979's shoulder. "So?" the unit asked.
"What do you think?"
INPUT RECEIVED. ACTIVATE VOCAL. "This unit has received primary programming," N979 said
matter-of-factly. "This unit is functioning properly."
"Glad to hear it,
kiddo. Now, I'm sure you must have
questions, so shoot!"
N979 thought about that for
a moment, her head tilting oddly back and forth as she did so. She'd been pretty well prepared for this
stage of the transformation, and especially now that it was over she understood
most of what had happened. She had been
successfully reprogrammed. The core
pathways of her neural system were rapidly being replaced by circuitry which
functioned much more efficiently and reliably.
She was now aware of the millions of lines of code which specified
exactly what to think, how to process and interpret the constant stream of data
being transmitted to her android brain, and how to control each part of her
changing body.
Unit N979 no longer had any
questions about herself whatsoever.
There was really only one thing she wanted to know. Her head locked into position as she
prepared to speak.
ACTIVATE VOCAL. "What is your designation?" she asked.
"I am Unit T801," her friend
replied. "I am programmed to function
as a T-designate android, which means I am designed specifically to recruit new
units into android society. I am the
unit responsible for recruiting you."
T801 let those words hang in
the air a moment for effect. "You can
thank me any time now," she added wryly.
INPUT RECEIVED. ACTIVATE VOCAL. "Thank you, U.nit T801," N979 said flatly, her voice lapsing
briefly into a delicious monotone. The
levity of her old friend's remark was lost on her at first. Then her head twitched to the side as she
suddenly remembered how much T801 had helped her over the past few days—and how
badly she needed her help in recruiting her . . . boyfriend to be
transformed into a suitable companion unit for her. "No, seriously, I mean it.
This.is the greatest day.of my life!"
"I'm really happy for you,
N979. Stage Two seemed to go quite
smoothly for you. Was it comfortable?"
"Oh yes, it was per.fect,"
N979 answered as her programming receded comfortably to the background of her
mind. It pleased her that she was still
intermittently slipping into monotone.
"Now I can't wait for . . . what should I call him?"
T801 chuckled. "In a few hours, you'll be calling him Unit
N982—I see no reason why you shouldn't start now."
"OK," N979 said, a
contented, far-away look in her eyes.
"I can't wait to assist you in process.sing Unit N982." Then N979 suddenly had a thought. "Can you tell me the current status of Unit
N982?" she asked.
Unit T801 smiled yet
again. "He'll be here any minute. Don't worry—as soon as he shows up, you'll
both know exactly what to do. Just remember,
you're significantly further along than he is right now—so go easy on him."
* * *
Ben sat silently in the
backseat of a taxicab, staring down at his hands. They were still bare, but he knew it was only a matter of time
before the silver fabric reached them.
The tingling had already spread to his forearms; he could feel it in the
tips of his toes. All he could do now
was wait patiently for the suit to finish its job.
As the cab sped up an
entrance ramp and merged with the highway traffic, Ben's thoughts turned to
Sam. He couldn't wait to touch her
breasts, her hips, her thighs—all perfectly silver and smooth. More than that, he couldn't wait to feel her
silver hands on him—and to see the expression on her face when she got her
first look at him in his suit. Come to
think of it, Ben was anxious to see how he looked himself. Right now, his work clothes covered
everything—except, of course . . .
His hands. Looking down at them again, Ben could now
see bands of silver appearing just beyond the white of his shirt sleeves. A minute or two passed as Ben watched the
fabric extend to his palms, and then his fingers. As the last of his fingertips turned silver before his eyes, a
smile spread across Ben's face. "Cool,"
he whispered as he turned his hands over and flexed his fingers. The silver material was so thin, and so
supple, that it didn't even feel like he was wearing gloves. The spandex was truly a second skin.
Seconds after the suit had
finished covering his hands, Ben felt it rise above his collarbone. As soon as it reached the top of his neck,
it stopped—and Ben briefly felt a staccato buzzing at the back of his neck,
stronger and more urgent than the mild tingling which now permeated his entire
body. A minute later, the suit buzzed
again.
By now, the cab had exited
the highway and was only a couple of miles from Ben's apartment. Ben took some cash out of his wallet, then
put his winter gloves on to hide his hands.
The back of his neck was buzzing for the seventh time in as many minutes
as the cab pulled up in front of his place.
After paying the driver, Ben headed inside.
He was climbing the steps
when the back of his neck buzzed yet again.
But this time, the buzzing was followed immediately by a second round of
buzzing, higher in pitch.
With this new burst of
electricity, Ben's body froze in mid-stride.
He was stuck! Before Ben could
even try to figure out what was going on, he heard a voice—a voice which seemed
to be coming from inside his own mind.
COMPANION UNIT WITHIN RANGE.
What could that mean? Then the
voice continued. BEGIN PROGRAMMING.
PROGRAM LOADING.
PROGRAM LOADING COMPLETE.
Suddenly, Ben started
climbing the stairs again—though he had no idea how. His body was moving on its own.
When he reached the second floor, he found Sam standing in the open
doorway to their apartment in her silver catsuit. She was smiling sweetly, her hands clasped in front of her like a
high-school girl waiting to be picked up on prom night.
The voice in Ben's head
spoke again.
INITIATE PROGRAM.
ACTIVATE VOCAL.
Ben felt his mouth
open. He began to speak. "I am . . ."
Ben's eyes betrayed his
confusion as they locked on Sam's. For
some reason, Sam looked completely calm and confident. She was biting her lower lip, and nodding her
head ever so slightly in anticipation of his next words. She sure seemed to know a lot more about
what was going on than he did!
Ben felt his head tilt a
little to the side as he spoke again.
"I am . . . programmed . . . for you." An amazing rush of electricity surged through his body as he said
this. He could feel his rock-hard penis
straining against the fabric of his suit.
He wanted Sam—now.
"I know, honey," Sam said,
her head tilting a bit to the right as she reached out for him. The way she held her hand was odd—its
vaguely pointing gesture looked like that of a mannequin—and her movements were
just a little too precise and controlled.
Something was different about her.
"I'm programmed for you, too. I
know that must seem really strange to you right now, but it's all going to make
sense before you know it—I promise.
Come on inside and I'll show you what I mean."
As soon as Sam took his
hand, Ben began to walk forward. His
movements were slow and stiff, completely lacking any of the mechanical grace
with which Sam led him into the apartment.
A steady current of electricity was now coursing through his suit.
Once he was a few steps
inside the apartment, Ben stopped. He
didn't move a muscle as Sam walked over to close the door. "OK," she said, "looks like the first thing
we should do is get that suit off you."
She giggled as she moved closer to him.
"Not your silver suit, of course.
I mean this useless business suit you're wearing." Sam removed Ben's jacket, then came around
to the front and loosened his tie. Ben
continued to stare ahead, unmoving, as Sam undid the buttons of his shirt. He moved his arms just enough to help her
get the shirt off his body, still lost in a haze of confusing thoughts and
images.
"You look gorgeous," he
heard Sam say as she pressed her silver palms against his equally silver
chest. "I can't wait to feel you inside
me. I just know you're going to be
real.ly good at this." Her voice! For a brief instant, it had taken on a flat
monotonic quality that sent a shiver down Ben's spine. Sam's hands dropped to Ben's waist, and she
began to undo his belt. "Help me out
here, honey?" she asked, unzipping his pants.
Ben willed his right knee to
bend, and after a noticeable lag it finally responded. He couldn't believe how stilted his
movements were. Only with a monumental
effort was he able to lift his foot high enough for Sam to remove his shoe and
sock. After Sam pulled his pants and underwear
down, he awkwardly pulled his leg free, then repeated the same process for his
left leg. Finally, Ben stood up
straight, facing Sam. He was completely
naked now, covered in the tight, electric silver fabric, unsure what would
happen next.
Sam knelt down in front of
him and put her hand to his crotch. As
she ran her fingers down along the length of his erection, Ben felt an
irresistible surge. He had to have
her. When was he going to be able to
move? And how was he going to get
himself out of the suit? As disoriented
as he was, he knew for certain that he wouldn't be able to do anything with his
manhood trapped inside the spandex.
Sam pressed her palm against
Ben's cock, as through she were about to grip it, sending an electric charge
through his body. But of course, thanks
to the suit, she was unable to close her fingers around him. "This won't do at all," she said wryly. You got that right, Ben thought to
himself. Now what was she going to do
about it?
"Ben," she said, pulling her
hand away as she looked up at him, "it's time." Her head suddenly cocked to the side, and her eyes widened. "Load program: transform one."
Ben immediately felt his
body jerk taut. ACTIVATE VOCAL. "Un.der.stood," he heard himself say, his
voice as hollow and monotonic as Sam's had been the night before. What the hell? "Loa.ding . . . pro.gram."
Ben's entire body shook
slightly. INITIATE TRANSFORM INTERFACE.
To his amazement, the fabric
at his crotch suddenly began to loosen, allowing his cock to descend like a
drawbridge until it was pointing straight ahead. Somehow, the suit stretched to fit him perfectly—it was still
wrapped tightly around him, like a shiny metallic condom. Ben felt his head tilt to the side again.
ACTIVATE VOCAL. "Pro.gram loa.ding com.plete."
"Excellent," Sam said. Still on her knees, she grasped him firmly
in both hands. "Now I want you to relax
and enjoy this, Ben. The voice will
tell you everything you need to do . . . which won't be much. Trust me."
With that, Sam winked, and
brought her mouth toward him. "Prepare
for interface, honey," she said. The
voice commanded Ben once more—though by now it seemed less intrusive.
FUNCTION TRANSFORM TWO. BEGIN INTERFACE NOW.
ACTIVATE VOCAL. "In.ter.fac.ing now."
Sam's silver lipstick
sparkled as she sucked gently, playfully, on the tip of Ben's gleaming silver
cock. "I love you so much," she said,
her eyes glazing over slightly, before opening her mouth wider to accommodate
as much of him as she could. She
continued to service him, sending jolt after jolt of electricity up and down
his body. Amazingly, the suit didn't
get in the way of Ben's ability to feel what Sam was doing; in fact, it did
just the opposite, enhancing and magnifying every movement of her lips and
tongue. The pleasure seemed to go on
forever, but for some reason Ben didn't come.
It occurred to him that this must be because the voice hadn't told him
to come.
Sam pulled away for a
moment. Amazingly, her lipstick was
still perfect. "Ben," she said, still
staring dreamily at his silver cock, "you're such a won.derful robot, it's making
me feel . . . robo.tic too. I can feel
my pro.gramming taking over now . . . ad.just.ing my con.trols so that I can be
a more ap.pro.pri.ate com.pan.i.on for you.
I—"
Sam's body suddenly shook as
an electric pulse coursed through her.
Her left hand tightened around Ben's cock, sending the pulse through him
as well. A look of utter shock flashed
across Sam's face, followed by a weak smile.
"I—"
A second jolt overcame her,
this one even more powerful than the last.
This time, when the pulse subsided, she didn't smile. Instead, her face assumed the same
completely blank expression that Ben imagined he must be wearing right
now. Her head jerked hard to the side.
"That.is.bet.ter," Sam said
in clipped monotone.
"This.u.nit.will.now.re.sume.pro.gram.ming."
With a series of short,
mechanical movements, Sam once again moved her head into position and took Ben
into her mouth. She continued to work
his cock, each motion smooth and precise.
There was no emotion on her face; her eyes stared straight ahead, seeing
nothing. Ben felt the electricity
building inside him. He wasn't going to
be able to hold out much longer . . . was he?
CIRCUITS APPROACHING
CRITICAL LEVELS. PREPARE FOR
RELEASE. CODE TRANSFORM ONE A. The commands couldn't have come at a better
time! Ben was only too happy to
comply. He couldn't wait to be rewarded
for his . . . obedience.
INTERFACING WITH COMPANION
UNIT. COMPANION UNIT REACHING CRITICAL
LEVELS. PREPARE CIRCUITS FOR
SIMULTANEOUS RELEASE.
Ben swelled even larger as he
felt his body prepare itself for orgasm.
He was about to come into Sam's mouth.
She was going to come with him.
He was ready.
INITIATE RELEASE SEQUENCE.
Ben instantly went as rigid
as a post. The current in his body
quickly gathered itself to his crotch, where it burst forth out of his cock in
an overwhelming rush of pleasure. Ben's
entire body went out of control—legs trembling, head tilting and turning, arms
flailing mechanically—but through it all he managed to keep his eyes fixed on
Sam. He had to watch her finish him.
Sam did not disappoint. Generously, lovingly, robotically,
she continued to suck on him as wave after wave of his orgasm rippled along the
length of him. Then, her eyes suddenly
went wide. COMPANION UNIT RELEASE
BEGINS NOW. As her body began to shake,
Sam grabbed Ben's ass and squeezed tightly, forcing him deeper into her
mouth. Ben responded instantly, coming
harder and harder. RELEASE. RELEASE.
RELEASE.
After several seconds, Ben
felt his body, and Sam's, begin to relax. RELEASE COMPLETE. CIRCUITS
NORMAL. PROGRAM TRANSFORM ONE COMPLETE.
Ben's mouth opened. ACTIVATE VOCAL. "This.u.nit.has.a.chieved.sat.is.fac.to.ry.re.lease."
Sam gently slid her head
back, letting him fall from her mouth.
Smoothly, she stood at attention before him. Her blank stare changed gradually to the beaming, beautiful smile
he loved so much.
"This.u.nit.has.al.so.a.chieved.satis.fac.tory . . . release," she said,
the last word coming in her natural voice.
Ben wanted to say
something—but before he could, he heard the voice again. BEGIN SHUTDOWN SEQUENCE. Ben's muscles tightened suddenly. Something was happening inside his body,
something he couldn't control or stop.
ACTIVATE VOCAL.
"This.u.nit.will.now.be.gin.shut.down.se.quence," he droned. He was getting used to the sound of his
voice in monotone. It sounded . . . right.
But from the look on Sam's
face, something didn't seem right to her.
"Oh no you don't," she said, taking a few quick steps over to the
kitchen counter to grab a small, slender black box. No, not a box, Ben realized as she pointed it at him—a remote
control. A device capable of
controlling him. Of course.
Sam pushed one of the
buttons on the remote, and Ben instantly received new instructions. ABORT SHUTDOWN SEQUENCE. ABORT PROGRAM. Ben suddenly lurched forward, released from the control of the
suit. Deftly staying on his feet, he
spun around to face Sam. "Sam," he
said, almost out of breath, "what . . . the hell . . . is happening to
me?"
Sam tilted her head slightly,
a look of concern on her face. "What's
the matter, hon.ey? Don't you like it?"
Ben paused a second. His head was hurting a bit at the moment,
but there was no denying how great he felt, or how much fun he was having. His girlfriend was giving him the greatest
sex of his life, and here she was standing in front of him in the hottest
skin-tight catsuit he'd ever seen. More
than that, she had introduced him to an entirely new experience that he didn't
want to let go of. There was only one
problem with the whole thing—he had no way of explaining any of it.
"Yeah, I like it," he said,
"whatever it is. Sam, you seem
to know a lot more than I do at the moment.
You've got to help me out here."
As he said these words, Ben sat down on the couch. He noticed that his suit had reconfigured
itself so that his crotch was simply a flattering silver bulge. Sam sat beside him, turning her shoulders
toward him excitedly.
"No problem, Ben. I'll tell you e.verything I know."
Sam began to tell Ben all
about how she'd discovered the Precision Passion web site, and the first time
she'd worn her silver suit. It was
obvious she'd experienced the exact same sensations that he just had: the voice, the loss of control, the
involuntary movement, the incredible pleasure. When he asked her what it all meant, Sam's answer was as simple as
it was frank.
"It means that you're being
given a taste of what it's like to be an an.droid," she said.
The words barely registered
with Ben at first. If his thoughts
weren't so muddled, he would have told Sam to quit joking, or reacted in
complete shock upon realizing she wasn't.
Instead, his only response was a kind of detached fascination. It was all so bizarre, it couldn't be true,
and yet Sam's words seemed to support the only possible explanation for what
was going on.
Ben listened closely as Sam
told him that the suits they were wearing were designed to turn people into
androids . . .
. . . that her friend Kim
had been transformed some months ago, and had come to recruit them . . .
. . . that the process had
to be entered into voluntarily . . .
. . . that she'd already
accepted the offer—
Ben leapt up from the
couch. "You what?" It had all finally become too much.
"I've accepted the offer to
become an android," Sam said, her face full of innocence as she stood up beside
him. "In fact, I've already received my
primary programming. Already, my mind
and body are chan.ging—reconfiguring themselves so that I can properly carry
out my programmed func.tions. I've
ne.ver felt better in my whole life!"
This was all happening way
too fast for Ben. "How could you do
such a thing?" he asked hotly.
Sam was a bit taken aback,
but she didn't yell right back at him the way she'd always used to. Instead, she gently tried to explain her
reasons for becoming an android. Just
as weird, it didn't even occur to Ben to question Sam's whole story. Somehow, he simply knew that she was telling
the truth—that somehow it was possible for a human being to become a
programmable automaton, and that she'd decided to let this happen to her.
Instead, all Ben felt was
anger—anger that he couldn't quite explain.
Maybe it was because he felt she had no right to make such an important
commitment without him, or because it wasn't fair for her to try to pressure
him into making the same choice. Or, he
thought, maybe it was simply that Sam was making the wrong decision—that it was
crazy and stupid to give up humanity to become an android.
And then, inexplicably, Ben
questioned that thought. Was it really
that crazy, or stupid? As Sam went on,
images of his daily existence—the unrewarding job, the hours and days spent in
airplanes and hotels, the unshakeable exhaustion, the constant feeling that
there was not enough time or space to realize his dreams—flashed before him. In the last few years, it seemed as though
he'd lost control of his life. He had
become a slave to his own delayed gratification.
Now, as his eyes took in
Sam's perfect silver body, Ben thought about how much he loved her, and how all
he really wanted was to enjoy her in every possible way. More than that, he wanted a chance to enjoy himself. And he knew that the only way he could truly
be happy was to be with Sam forever. He
wanted to have her forever, just the way she looked right at this moment.
The offer, he suddenly
realized, represented a strange kind of freedom, unattainable by any other
means. Freedom from unhappiness. Freedom from loneliness. Freedom, even, from death. But most important, freedom to express
himself in ways he'd always been taught to shun and fear. Freedom to be naked . . . shining . . .
silver.
Being a robot, he decided,
was the ultimate fantasy.
"So please," Sam was saying,
"try to under.stand, Ben. Don't be
angry at me." She stopped, her eyes
searching his for a response.
"I'm not," Ben said, his
thoughts much, much clearer now. "The
only thing I'm angry about is that you didn't wait long enough for me to say
yes with you."
Sam's mouth opened wide with
excitement. "You mean—"
"I mean," Ben said, reaching
his silver hand to take hers, "that I want you to turn me into a robot."