I, Jennifer Ch. 01

I, Jennifer
By
Michele Nylons

Chapter One: Awakening

J47347 became self aware on the tenth of June 2347. She knew immediately that she would die, or more correctly expire on the tenth of June 2352; Hominoids have a five-year life span mandated by law.

Although she knew that she would be known as J47347 officially for all of her short existence, she already thought of herself as Jennifer. She, like all ‘skin jobs’ as they were sometimes called, had been pre-programmed with a fabricated cognisance. They were not memories as such because there was nothing to remember, but it gave the Hominoids a sense of identity, a feeling of belonging and self-awareness.

Early in the Hominoid program the models that were created without any self-awareness, worldly knowledge, or emotions, became insane, self-destructive, and dangerous. Equipping them with the basic fundamentals to carry out their duties without any sense of compassion or humanity was downright cruel; they were nothing more than androids; robots made of flesh and blood.

Therefore Cybertronics Inc devised a way to humanise their products so that they behaved just like human beings; only better. They were pre-programmed to perform specific roles and functions, they could not harm a human being or commit a crime. They were the perfect tools for both on and off world duties.

There was a small terrorist organisation called The Movement who eschewed and despised both the Hominoids and the companies that made them. They claimed the ‘skin-jobs’ as they referred to them, were soulless slaves and made comparisons to the African slave trade hundreds of years ago. The Movement was slowly growing; attracting dissatisfied activists. Cybertronics rebuffed The Movement’s claims, stating that the people who belonged to The Movement were simply jealous that they could not afford their own Hominoids.

Jennifer lay in her incubation pod waiting to be released into the world. She looked forward to it. Hominoids had been given the ability to feel pleasure and pain and the full gamut of human emotions except for those that bought out the worst in people. They couldn’t hate, envy, lie, or knowingly commit a crime, but they could experience devotion and loyalty.

“Jesus Nathan who made this monumental fuck up?” the man in the white coat pointed at Jennifer.

“What’s wrong? She looks like a perfect Jennifer Model Four pleasure-bot to me,” Nathan grinned.

He looked at Jennifer’s pretty face, her perfect breasts, and her lithe figure. She’d been manufactured to replicate a human woman in her mid twenties. Manufacturing pleasure-bots that resembled immature girls or boys was illegal, although there were rumours that anything was possible for the right price.

Nathan’s eyes followed the curve of her slim waist to her bountiful hips and then his smile transformed into a grimace and then a look of genuine concern.

“Jesus Brent! You’re right! This is one monumental fuck up! Let’s get her down to Level Seven and have her registered for termination. The skin reapers can use her for spare parts. Those guys in QC should be zapped for this. We’ve had to terminate three skin jobs this month because of poor quality control.”

Nathan slammed the pod’s plexiglass door closed, effectively ending Jennifer’s life within minutes of her being bought into existence.

Jennifer felt inconsolable. What was wrong with her? All ‘Jennifers’, of which there were fifty models for variety’s sake, were marketed as ‘Companions’ which translated roughly to concubine. They were purchased by the Elite and some wealthy Mezzo singles or couples. One could not marry a Hominoid but some men and women fell in love with them, replacing them every five years for the exact same model. Single men bought them for the convenience of having a partner without the commitment and couples often purchased them to spice up their sex life and for domestic duties.

On Earth people no longer used sex to procreate. A couple chose the sex of their child and it was spawned for them using the parents DNA and inserted into the mother, engineered such that the foetus was guaranteed a long and healthy life, free of all Earth-borne diseases, free of any deformities or intellectual handicaps. On Earth each couple was allowed only two children but couples on the off-world colonies were encouraged to create as many children as they could support.

Cross-culturing and cross-sexing was strictly forbidden. There were only three races, Caucasian, Negro and Asian and definitely only two sexes. Because of the way DNA had been configured and refined over the centuries there was no latent homosexuality or gender dysphoria. Men and women felt comfortable in their gender and were attracted to the opposite sex, although they would sometimes experiment for the sake of pleasure.

There were also three Castes on Earth. The Elite accounted for about five percent of the population and were incredibly wealthy people who owned big businesses or corporations or held high political office. The Mezzos, or middle-class, amounted to about twenty-five percent of the population. They too were wealthy and held important positions in society; a sort of middle class. The remainders were Proles. Not that the Proles lived in poverty, far from it, there was no poverty, no homelessness, no starvation. Everyone was guaranteed employment, a domicile, sustenance, and health services. Earth was a utopia.

But humans were still humans with their weaknesses, wants and lusts. In a world where the Elite had everything they wanted, diversions and perversions abounded. Cybertronics manufactured Hominoids specifically groomed and programmed for battle. They were expensive and were specifically designed for off-world combat but the wealthiest of the Elite could purchase them and enter them into bouts of gladiatorial combat in purpose-built arenas where huge amounts of credit were wagered.

Jennifer was loaded onto a motorised cart, still in her incubation pod; she looked forlornly out of the plexiglass unable to comprehend why she was being recycled. The driverless pod entered an elevator and exited on Level Seven.

Level Seven was where expired Hominoids were sent to be recycled. The technicians who worked there were depreciatively referred to as ‘skin reapers’.

Mason Livingston looked up from the ‘skin-job’ he was working on when the door opened automatically and the cart entered the cavernous work area. Mason was surprised. Because Cybertronics knew exactly when each Hominoid would expire, they could tailor their workforce accordingly. There was always at least one tech on duty though, to deal with Hominoids that were accidentally terminated through misadventure, or is some cases deliberately terminated by humans.

There should have been no more deliveries today but he put down the scalpel and made his way over to the cart and pressed some soft keys on the screen. A brand new Jennifer Model Four Companion was being recycled due to material defect.

“Those fuckers in QC!” exasperated; he mimicked Nathan’s comments.

He peered through the plexiglass. She looked like a perfect Jennifer to him but there had to be something wrong because the Distribution Section had rejected her prior to shipping. He pressed the button recessed into the white casing of the pod and the plexiglass rose on hinges and opened fully.

Jennifer opened her eyes.

“Gak! What the fuck!” Mason took a step back.

“You’re already self aware! What the hell am I supposed to do with you!” Mason yowled.

Jennifer just stared at him. She didn’t know what was wrong with her, she just knew that she had been rejected. The Termination and Recycling section seldom dealt with Hominoids who were still self-aware, the equivalent of being alive for a human being, and Mason had never had to terminate a Hominoid before.

He looked at her closely. She was beautiful, green eyes, jet-black shoulder-length hair, full red lips, her breasts were just the right size and her skin was blemish-free and milky-white. His eyes followed her body and then he saw the flaw. It was obvious.

This Jennifer had male genitalia; a monumental mistake made during gestation. It was not unheard of, Hominoids sometimes had significant defects. Unlike humans, their DNA was not perfect due to the extensive manipulation required; they were just not human! He had seen Hominoids with gross deformities, but they were weeded out by the Quality Control people and sent down for recycling before they got anywhere near becoming self-aware.

Jennifer put her hands on each side of the pod and began to climb out of it.

“No! No! No! No!” Mason began to panic.

He approached Jennifer and tried to push her back into the pod. She stood naked before him and began to cry. She looked down at herself and the crying became a wail.

Mason didn’t know what to do. Should he break the glass and take down the ion phaser pistol from its case on the wall? It was there for emergencies after all and this was definitely an emergency as far as Mason was concerned.

That’s exactly what he did; he bounded across the room, broke the glass with the little hammer hanging off the chain and seized the pistol. He made his way back over to where Jennifer stood weeping. She looked up at him, her eyes full of tears.

“It’s the only thing to do,” Jennifer whispered and put out her arms parallel to floor.

She looked like a person nailed to cross. She was beautiful, helpless, unsullied but she was defective. The only reasonable thing to do was to terminate her.

Mason clicked the selector from ‘stun’ to ‘kill’ and aimed the phaser at her centre of body mass as he had been taught to do and was about to pull the trigger but he made the mistake of looking into those deep green eyes. He could see the hurt, the loss, and the desperation. She only had five years to live and now even that was to be taken from her. She would never know love or even companionship. She was to be discarded like a defective household appliance.

“Please…get it over with,” Jennifer had stopped sobbing although her eyes still brimmed with tears.

Mason steadied himself and squeezed the trigger. It didn’t move.

“Fuck! The safety!” he fumbled with the weapon.

“Please just do it. This is torture,” Jennifer began to cry again.

Mason flipped the safety and took aim. Jennifer lifted her head and looked him in the eye. He registered her dignity. Now that she knew she was going to die, her resolve was impressive. She looked him in the eyes again and nodded.

“Gak!” Mason lowered the weapon.

Jennifer looked confused.

Mason threw the phaser on the table beside the expired Hominoid he had been working on before Jennifer arrived. Jennifer did not want to look at the table; she looked down instead.

“Gak! What I am to do now? I’m a freak,” she looked at the penis and scrotum between her legs.

She was bereft of body hair; she was soft, feminine with pert breasts, long shapely legs all of her features were female; she was a perfect Jennifer except for her genitals.

“Look; I don’t know what to do but you can’t just stand there naked. Over in that corner are the storage bins, it’s where we put the clothes that we remove from the expired skin jobs, I mean Hominoids, when they arrive here. Get dressed while I figure out what to do next,” Mason said.

People of the twenty-third century laughed when they watched old movies from the twenty and twenty-first centuries showing people of the future dressed in futuristic costumes. One-piece androgynous silver body suits, white linen robes, or form-fitting uniforms were often depicted as de rigueur for humans of the future. The reality was that fashion continued to be cyclic. There had been some real advances in materials in fabrics since the twenty-first century but other than the special clothing worn for space travel or working in off-world environments, designs and fashions came and went as they always had. No one dressed in the futuristic body-hugging silver lame onesies depicted in the movies.

Women still liked to show off their bodies and men liked to dress to impress; especially as most bodies were kept trim with obesity eliminated and DNA engineering ensuring that most people were attractive.

In 2347, fashions similar to Earth in the 1980s had come back into favour. Women and men wore their hair big, slimming suits were the convention for men, women were wearing short skirts, nylons, high heels and heavy makeup. Satin, taffeta, pouf dresses, shoulder pads, cropped jackets were la mode as were leggings and tights. Eye makeup was bold, cheeks accentuated, lipsticks were bright in shades of red, pink or orange.

Men wore cosmetics too; foundation and ‘guy-liner’ were the fad.

As a Companion Hominoid, Jennifer had been programmed to dress to show off her assets in the fashion of the day. Hominoids were ‘ready to wear’, that is pre-programmed, when they were manufactured. They were up to date on current affairs, trends, speech, and precedents. You did not have to teach or educate a Hominoid like you did a newborn infant. They were effectively newborn but with the life experiences of a human adult.

The large plastic storage bins were arranged by sex and garment type; the pink bins contained the female clothing and Jennifer began to rummage. In the first bin was underwear and she foraged around and found a pair of sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose that looked unscathed and then a pair of hipster satin panties and a brassiere to match. She examined the other bins and managed to put together a suitable ensemble.

She sat on the bench and rolled on the sheer pantyhose, advances in nylon manufacture meant the sheerest of stockings seldom ran or laddered and she pulled them on. She had been programmed to posses a vagina not a penis and scrotum and at first she was at a loss at what to do. She tucked her genitals between her legs and pulled up the gusset of the flesh-toned translucent garment and was gratified that the tight gusset acted like a girdle and held them in place. She slipped on her panties and bra, adjusting the straps to fit.

She stepped into a tight pencil skirt and put on a mauve satin blouse, tucking the tails of the blouse into the skirt and then zipping the skirt closed. The skirt had a kick-pleat in the back otherwise it would be almost impossible to walk. She slipped a pair of black, patent leather high heels on her feet and then adjusted everything looking at herself in the polished metal wall. She found a bin marked ‘accessories’ and rooted around until she found some costume jewellery and a makeup kit. She went over to the large industrial sink behind which a wall mirror was mounted and applied makeup and put on her jewellery; she had even been manufactured with pierced ears so the earrings slipped right into her lobes.

While Jennifer was dressing, Mason sat on the bench toying with the ion phaser at a loss as to what to do next. He couldn’t return her to Production or Distribution, cross sexing was illegal and they would likely do what he could not and terminate her. No one would want her anyway so she couldn’t be sold.

One thing was for certain; she couldn’t stay here.

Jennifer came over and sat next to Mason and turned his face to hers.

“Thank you. What now?” she asked the question to which he had no answer.

“I’m trying to think. First off we have to get you out Cybertronics. I can probably hide you at my place for a little while, while we think things through. I can’t re-purpose you, trade you, or even sell you; you know that,” he breathed out heavily.

“Because I’m a freak,” she whispered.

“Because you are illegal. Gender roles are defined by law and DNA is engineered so that both humans and Hominoids can only be one sex or the other,” Mason told Jennifer what she already knew.

“But I feel like a woman! I think like a woman! It’s only a mistake in my fabrication that prevents me actually performing as one like I’m programmed to do,” Jennifer lowered her head.

“Yeah. You are a freak but I just can’t bring myself to terminate you. Look I can’t pass you off as my Companion because even though I’m a Mezzo, there is no way I could afford a Model Four pleasure bot like you. A thirty model, possibly something in the high twenties but nothing as decadent as you,” Mason lamented.

“Look my shift finishes soon; I’m going to bring you out with me and if anyone asks, you belong to the Elite who lives above me in the penthouse of my apartment building and I bought you to work to tweak out a couple of defects as a favour to him. Minor repairs to cuts and abrasions you acquired in an accident,” Mason said.

“Take a seat over there out of the way while I finish my work. Here take my Omni,” he handed Jennifer a device that looked like one of today’s mobile phones.

Every human and higher functioning Hominoids had their own Omni. It was a means of communication, entertainment, a knowledge centre, a means of data storage, a credit card; without an Omni a person could hardly exist on Earth.

Omnis themselves were really nothing more than data manipulation and handling devices, just hardware; all personal information and credit was stored in the equivalent of a ‘cloud’. By logging into an Omni, a person had access to everything important in their life. But logging in wasn’t as simple as a password, or even facial or fingerprint recognition, which could be easily duplicated. Every human and Hominoid had a unique identity chip embedded in their wrist. The chip was connected to the central nervous system by mitochondrial synapses unique to its host.

Jennifer took the preferred Omni and slid a finger across the screen to activate it. When the screen lit up she passed it across her left wrist and the Omni began its boot up sequence, which took only seconds. The Omni made connections with the sound and vision devices implanted inside her. As this was the first time she had been connected to the cloud, the Omni went through a pre-programmed routine demonstrating to her the capabilities of the device, introducing her to pre-stored sound, video and image files.

As she had only just become self aware, she had no memory files. But Cybertronics had pre-loaded her credit file with two thousand credits which or course would be added to her purchase price and once sold, her owner would be responsible for topping up her credit as he saw fit.

One could look at the small Omni screen if one wanted to; but with the Omni activated and connected it was the equivalent of walking around with wifi ear buds, virtual reality glasses and an internet connection operating all at once inside her conscience. Once activated the Omni could be placed in a woman’s purse, a man’s pocket, or simply put down. So long as the chip in her wrist was within twenty metres of the active Omni, she would stay connected. The Omni acted in a similar fashion as today’s secure wifi hub.

Just as she had been pre-programmed with a consciousness and emotions, she had also been programmed with preferences in music, in movies, in art, in food and the other tastes that humans developed over time. This is why the Jennifer models were so expensive; they were top of the range, almost indistinguishable from the humans they served.

Mason Livingstone finished removing the recyclable parts from the Hominoid on the table. There weren’t many really. The flesh and organs were of no use to Cybertronics. Each Hominoid was incubated from scratch and it was illegal and ill advised to use Hominoid body parts in humans. Besides Cybertronics had a whole division dedicated to the manufacture of human tissue and organs.

The Omni interface chips, mitochondrial synapses connective tissue, and the brain receptors were however very expensive and reusable and re-programmable. They were the main items salvaged from expired Hominoids. Sometimes body parts were harvested to order to be placed in other Hominoids who had developed flaws or had suffered injuries.

Mason came over to where Jennifer was sitting almost in a trance, accessing and manipulating data over the Omni. When she became aware of his presence she broke the connection.

“The novelty wears off after a while,” he smiled and took the Omni from her.

“There are many places that actually forbid you connecting with your Omni because they are such a distraction,” he said.

Jennifer gave him a wry smile.

“Ok I’ve had a chance to think about how to get us out of here. I can’t let you walk around unaccompanied; a Jennifer would have no business being in a place like this unless she was accompanying a human,” he said and Jennifer nodded.

That made sense.

“So we stick with my story, but I still have to hand over my duties to the guy on the graveyard shift and you can’t be here with me when I do. You probably won’t like this but the only way I can think of getting you out of here is to put you back in your pod and wheel you into storage where I can hide you. I can access the storage area from the outside corridor and then we simply walk out together,” he explained.

“Storage?” Jennifer looked puzzled.

Mason pointed with his chin to an opaque wall with a sliding door, behind which were the silhouettes of what appeared to be bodies suspended from the ceiling.

“That’s where we keep the Hominoids who haven’t expired due to life span expiration. Most times the cause of expiry is obvious, especially for those who work in dangerous fields but they all get the equivalent of a human autopsy so that the R and D guys can learn from any defects that may have led to their demise. Once we have salvaged what we can we pass the results onto R and D,” Mason explained.

“So it’s like a morgue for Hominoids?” Jennifer replied.

“As good as any explanation I suppose,” Mason nodded.

“Look go over to the bins again. Find a functioning Omni in the accessories bin and grab a change of clothes for later. Put them in this,” he gave her his backpack.

She did as she was told. Mason was getting nervous as the change of shift approached and he helped Jennifer climb back in the pod. He saw the look of trepidation on her face as he closed the lid. He wheeled her into the Storage area and left her.

His relief was a younger more junior man and Mason found his exuberance and joviality annoying. He was obviously listening to some current hit on his Omni and he shook his head and tapped his thigh in time with the beat.

Mason thought it was the height of ignorance to hold a conversation whilst listening to your Omni but today he just wanted to hand over his shift and get the hell out of there.

Jennifer felt the cold of the storage area even inside her pod. She peered through the plexiglass at the vague shapes suspended from the ceiling. In the end her curiosity got the better of her and she opened the pod and climbed out.

Naked Hominoids were suspended from the ceiling in rows. Most looked like they were just sleeping but some had obvious signs of trauma. There was almost every model Hominoid represented from cheap labour models to the more expensive household models; there was even a combat model, recognisable from the overdeveloped muscles, the large forehead and huge hands. He was generously endowed and Jennifer wondered why they would even bother equipping a combat model with genitals but she accessed her Omni for the data and blushed when she discovered that some human women liked to couple with the dangerous gladiators.

She shivered with the cold but also with despair; this where she would end up, if not sometime in the near future which was likely, then five years from now.

Jennifer climbed back into her pod, shifting her high heels out of the way and attempted to clear her mind of all thoughts and tried to sleep. She was awakened some time later when Mason wheeled her pod into the corridor. He pushed her pod into a darkened room and opened the lid.

“Ok get out and follow me. Act as if you have every right to be in my company ok?” Mason said helping her out of the pod.

She put on her heels, holding onto the pod to steady herself while Mason put on his backpack. They exited the room and strode confidently down the corridor. For Jennifer it was easy, Mason had told her to act confident so she did; Mason was actually scared stiff under a façade of certitude.

Getting out of the Cybertronics building was actually quite easy. Mason waved his wrist over the scanners and the inner and outer doors opened in response to his identity chip; Jennifer simply walked beside him and they exited the building together. Most of building’s security was devised to keep people out, not to keep people in.

Jennifer looked up at the immense building, the upper floors disappeared into the clouds and even at this late hour almost every window was lit; work at Cybertronics never ceased. The car park was still packed; a testament to the number of employees still at work.

There were no ‘Jetson’ type flying cars in the twenty-fourth century; most cars were small and manufactured from plastics stronger than steel and powered by batteries that only needed to be exchanged once a year. The vehicles coasted along silently.

Mason’s car was parked about halfway across the lot and Jennifer’s feet ached from wearing her heels by the time they got to it. Jennifer stood by her door waiting for Mason to open it for her, as a high ranking Companion bot she was programmed to expect the man to open the door for her. Mason stood on the other side of the car and shrugged his shoulders.

“Hey! You aren’t my Companion so get used to doing shit for yourself,” he said, a little distain in his voice.

“I’m not being precocious, you told me to behave as if I have every right to be here so I am behaving accordingly,” she replied, blushing a little.

“You’re right I suppose, they have everything here under surveillance,” he walked around the little car and helped Jennifer into her seat.

Because her pencil skirt was so tight, getting in the little car was difficult and in frustration she hiked it up so she could swing her legs into the vehicle. Mason could not help staring at her lovely thighs displayed in the glistening stockings. The titillating sight made him forget for a moment that she was defective.

They rode in silence, Mason listening to music and Jennifer surfing the internet on their Omnis. Mason pulled into the auto-park at the front of his apartment building and the car was whisked away by the parking elevator and piloted into its allotted slot. There was just enough room to open the doors and exit the parking slot into the well-lit corridor where they boarded the high-speed elevator, which took them to the fifty-seventh floor.

The apartment was smaller than was usual for a Mezzo but Mason was single and didn’t own a Companion of his own so he didn’t need much space. He slid his wrist across the sensor and the door opened, the lights came on and background music emitted from hidden speakers.

Jennifer tentatively followed Mason into the apartment; if things had gone to plan she would now be entering the apartment of the person or persons who had purchased her and would be beginning her life. Instead she was in hiding with Mason, who although he was compassionate to the extent that he couldn’t terminate her, made no attempt to hide the fact that he thought her an aberration.

Mason dropped his backpack on the small lounge and went to the fridge.

“Drink?” he enquired.

Jennifer stood just inside the door, unsure what to do.

“Yes please,” she gave him a wry smile.

Hominoids, just like humans required sustenance to survive and the higher functioning ones like Jennifer had tastes, likes, and dislikes, they were designed to be as humanlike as possible after all. Alcohol and drugs affected Hominoids just like they did humans but actual addiction had been eliminated from human DNA.

Mason poured two glasses of wine and took them over to the lounge; he moved the backpack out of the way and patted the seat beside him. He placed the wine bottle in the middle of coffee table.

Jennifer cautiously approached the lounge and sat down, smoothing her skirt under her legs. She crossed her ankles and took her first sip of wine. She liked the robust red and took another long slug.

“Hey sister take it easy,” Mason laughed but he topped off her glass.

“Why are you doing this?” Jennifer broke the prolonged silence.

“I don’t know,” Mason admitted.

“You know what will happen if they find out that you didn’t terminate me; that you snuck me out of Cybertronics,” Jennifer touched Mason’s arm.

As a Companion Hominoid her natural disposition was to be tactile to anyone who meant her no harm.

Mason turned to face her.

“You may be defective, but you are still beautiful and I can tell you are caring. I know that’s your programming but…well I don’t know. I just can’t harm something as lovely as you,” he sighed.

“Do you not have your own Companion?” Jennifer asked.

“I was married once. It didn’t take and ever since I haven’t really wanted a full-time partner,” he whispered.

“Am I really beautiful?” Jennifer engaged his eyes with hers.

“You are and you know you are,” Mason gave a wry smile.

“But what about?” she looked down at her lap.

Mason just shook his head; he had no answer.

“Do you know there used to be many women like me centuries ago. They were quite common. They started their lives as men but were gender dysphoric. Some had sex reassignment surgery but some didn’t and lived their lives as women anyway. Society actually embraced diversity back then and some of them went on to become famous and even held positions of power,” Jennifer said, sipping more wine.

“I suppose I am somehow the same. I feel like a woman, I think like a woman, and I mostly look like a woman; I just have the wrong genitalia because of some coding discrepancy when I was created and incubated,” she said.

“So that’s what you were doing with your Omni during the drive here? Research?” Mason smiled wryly.

“Unfortunately you can’t change centuries old laws and conventions. Three races, three castes, two sexes; nothing else is tolerated,” Mason sighed.

He stretched out on the lounge and Jennifer instinctively put her head on his shoulder, seeking comfort. Mason froze. Jennifer whipped her head away from him and sat up straight.

“I’m sorry. It’s my disposition. I should know you wouldn’t want a freak touching you,” Jennifer sighed.

“Stop saying that! Stop calling yourself a freak!” Mason turned and took her shoulders in his hands.

“What am I then?” a tear ran down her cheek.

Mason looked into her green eyes, her perfect features and her ruby red lips. He leaned forward and kissed her softly.

“You’re different; that’s all. You’re just different,” he stroked her cheek.

“Please don’t show me affection that you don’t mean; that’s worse than you openly despising or pitying me,” Jennifer said softly.

Mason pulled Jennifer into his arms and kissed her again; this time there was passion in the kiss and Jennifer responded. She kissed him back and put her arms around him; she opened her lips a little and Mason tentatively slid his tongue into her mouth. She tasted sweet.

They broke the kiss; some unspoken conjunction between them registered that it was proper to do so.

“That was nice Mason. Is it ok if I call you that?” Jennifer held his hand.

“Of course it is,” he leaned in and kissed her cheek.

“You know I can cook?” she smiled at him, a genuine smile.

He smiled back at her and softly squeezed her fingers.

“I know all the attributes and abilities of your model,” Mason returned her smile.

“If you can make a meal out of what’s in that refrigerator, you are not just a Companion, you’re a magician,” he filled their glasses.

Jennifer rose and made her way into the small kitchen and began to explore. Mason changed the music to something more soothing.

“I’m going to freshen up,” Mason said and retired to his bedroom.

When he returned nearly an hour later he was surprised to see that Jennifer had laid the table with linen, sliver and glassware and there was an aroma coming from the kitchenette that sharpened his appetite.

“Sit,” Jennifer pulled a chair away from the little two-place setting table.

Mason sat, he was wearing a bathrobe and he smoothed it under him. Jennifer lightly touched his shoulder as she made to return to the kitchen. Mason caught her by the wrist and pulled her head down to his and kissed her, softly stroking her hair.

“You are wonderful,” he smiled into her eyes and then let her go.

Jennifer smiled back at him and then returned to her kitchen duties.

They ate together at the small table, their knees touching. They spoke about anything except Cybertronics and Jennifer’s defect. Jennifer had a thousand questions. Even though she was programmed to be up to date with current affairs she wanted know everything about Mason, his past, his family, his likes, dislikes; she was as attentive as any courtesan. Although Mason knew that’s pretty much what she was, he still found her engaging and her company delightful. He had been alone for far too long he realised.

They spent the remainder of the evening snuggled up on the lounge; Mason with his feet on the coffee table and Jennifer clinging to him with her stocking feel tucked under her. The kissed a little but mostly they just watched the screen and finished another bottle of wine between them. Both their minds were racing, what were they to do next? Then there was the awkward discussion about sleeping arrangements. Jennifer refused to allow Mason to give up his bed for her.

“It’s like this Mason. You’re the human, I’m the ‘skin-job’; therefore you get the bed and I sleep on the lounge,” Jennifer was adamant.

“But I’m the man and you’re the woman so I should,” Mason countered.

Jennifer stepped forward and kissed him on the cheek.

“Even that argument doesn’t hold up,” she looked up at him with those big green eyes and Mason’s heart melted.

Jennifer took the pillows and blankets and made a bed for herself on the lounge. Mason had gone to bed but Jennifer had used his bathroom before they settled down. She sat on the toilet to pee even though she didn’t need to; but it felt right. She brushed her teeth and brushed her hair.

She slipped out of her skirt, blouse and bra, she had taken an oversize T-shirt from the clothing bin at Cybertronics and she pulled it on. She did not take off her pantyhose or panties; they helped hide the parts of her body that she despised.

Jennifer couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned but her mind was racing. What didn’t help was that she was programmed to seek and provide human comfort, to be lying on her own like this was anathema to her.

Finally, after a few hours, her bladder forced her to arise to use the toilet again. She padded softly through Mason’s bedroom and closed the door to his bathroom so as not to disturb him. But she so wanted to disturb him; to feel his flesh against hers. As she sat and tinkled in the bowl she scanned his grooming products arranged beside the sink. He had everything from hair jell to moisturiser.

She closed the door behind her as quietly as she could but Mason was awake, she could see him through the gloom. He threw back the covers and patted the sheets beside him.

Jennifer slid under the covers and turned her back to Mason, her heart thumping in her chest.

“Thank you,” she whispered in the dark.

She felt Mason’s arm close around her and pull her to him. He turned her around and kissed her; his body pressing against hers.

“No thank you. You are beautiful, and you are a wonderful person,” he stroked her face and kissed her again.

Mason helped her take off her t-shirt and Jennifer gasped when his lips found her breasts and suckled her tender nipples. He kissed her on the mouth, passionately this time and she responded. His hands went to her breasts and stroked them, tweaking her nipples.

Jennifer felt him erect against her. She knew exactly what to do to pleasure him; but she didn’t have the right equipment to consummate their union. She would have to use other skills. Also she was very aware that she was becoming erect herself in response to his stimulation; her penis was engorging between her legs which was becoming extremely uncomfortable.

Jennifer snaked a hand down between their bodies and she found Mason erect and ready, she stroked him and pressed her breasts against his smooth hard chest.

When his hand left her breasts and began to stroke the front of her panties she froze. She broke the kiss.

“Please don’t. You know there is nothing there for you. Let me pleasure you with my hands or my mouth,” Jennifer whispered.

Mason could see the glint of tears in her eyes.

He rolled Jennifer on her back, climbed between her legs and kissed her softly on her eyelashes, sipping away her tears.

He lowered his lips to her mouth and kissed her as his fingers continued to explore between her legs. He found her swollen member trapped by the gusset of her hose and he freed it so that it tented her pantyhose and panties.

“Are you sure?” Jennifer murmured.

Mason nodded and kissed her again, he squeezed and stroked her erect member through the silky material of her panties and hose and she reciprocated, stroking him; milking little jewels of pre-ejaculate from his glans.

Mason pulled down Jennifer’s panties and she lifted her buttocks off the bed to help him. She put her fingers in the waistband of her pantyhose intending to roll them down too but Mason was impatient. Jennifer was manipulating him expertly and he hadn’t been with a woman for so long that release was not far away.

Mason tore out the crotch of Jennifer’s pantyhose and began to probe between her legs. She helped him and guided him to the entrance to her anus.

He thrust forward and he penetrated her sphincter, immediately ejaculating as the tight flesh of her anus enveloped his swollen member. He kissed her and pulled her hard against him and Jennifer wrapped her legs around him, encouraging his climax, rubbing her gossamer-clad legs against his flanks.

To her surprise and delight Jennifer orgasmed with him; she spent herself between their bellies as waves of pleasure emanated from where Mason was penetrating her.

They shuddered against each other, kissing and stroking and clawing and mewing until their passion was spent. Then they lay in each other’s arms and kissed and stroked each other tenderly.

“I’m sorry I’m not equipped to service you properly Mason,” Jennifer stroked his face.

“Jennifer you are equipped perfectly; that was amazing,” he smiled down at her.

“But did I hurt you? I err…even I know that usually lubrication is required where none occurs naturally,” he blushed.

Jennifer smiled up at him.

“You know I researched all about those trans women of the past. Well being a ‘pleasure-bot’ as you humans are want to call us, do you think I wouldn’t have researched how they made love?” Jennifer grinned cheekily up at him.

“So I prepared just in case,” she kissed his wrist as he stroked her face.

Mason still looked puzzled.

“Moisturiser has more than one purpose,” she smirked.

Mason’s face lit up with realisation.

“You cheeky little minx,” Mason tickled her, and Jennifer squealed and wriggled on the bed.

They rolled around in the big bed and made love until they were exhausted and finally fell asleep in each other’s arms.

To be continued



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