I'd like to say this was inspired by Silent Lurker's
Aquaphobia. Believe me, his little short was the FIRST story I've read
in a LONG while which gave me goosebumps as it progressed to its conclusion!
Major kudos and a gracious nod to him, along with my hopes that he will
do a sequel sometime very soon. ^_-
"Hey, Tim, how are you?!" Clea beams as the paperboy walks onto the front lawn of the Webster residence, located in Welland's northwest residential zones. A spunky sixteen year old with dirty blonde hair to her shoulders and soft brown eyes that made people think of maple fudge when they saw them, Clea appeared to be in very great shape. Currently, she was sunning herself on the front lawn, dressed in a very skimpy gold bikini which showed off her arousing, model-perfect looks.
Tim Reynolds, who delivered the Shopping News every week on the Websters' street, knew Clea had just advanced to Grade Ten, now attending Centennial Secondary School. Tim wouldn't be a student in Centennial until September; he just finished eighth grade. He was glad of it. Elementary school was such a confusing time for him, especially since he lived in a children's home near downtown and there was next to little or no guidance from adults when it came to all the interesting problems puberty was forcing on him.
"I'm okay! Here you are," he hands her the paper. "Nice day, isn't it?" he muses, trying not to gawk too much at Clea's body.
"Yeah, it is! I'm glad of it," Clea sets the paper aside, then hums. "It is a little hot, though. Why don't you take a break and relax for a bit? You don't want to get sunstroke from the lack of shade, you know."
"Oh, h-heck, I'm okay," Tim chuckles, then sighs, turning to leave. "I'll see you later, okay."
"Okay. C'mon back and visit when you're done," Clea smiles. "I'll have something for you to drink when you come, okay?"
Tim blinks, surprised at the offer, then he nods. "Okay! See you later, Clea!"
He heads off, the bound in his step demonstrating his mood to everyone who'd see him. Clea watches him go, then sits back in her chair, slipping her sunglasses over her eyes. "He's so nice. Not like those other jerks at school..."
"Yeah, Mom?" Clea looks at the front door.
"I'll be heading out now, alright?" Mary Maxwell steps onto the porch, heading to the family's car. Appearing in her late twenties though it was obvious she was much older, Mary was in effect an older Clea in looks, though Mary had grown into very graceful adulthood while Clea still had some curving out to do. She worked as a real estate agent in partnership with her sister Samantha; both owned their own brokerage. "We might not be back until late tonight. I'm not sure when Mom will be back. You make sure you and Patty keep things safe while we're gone, alright?"
"No problem, Mom. Good luck," Clea smiles.
Mary then notices the paper beside her daughter's lawnchair. "Oh, has Tim been by?"
"Yeah, he just came by a few minutes ago. I invited him over for something to drink after he finishes work."
"Fair enough. I'll see you later."
Mary climbs into the car, then drives off. Clea sighs, then turns back to sunning herself...
* * *
Two hours later, the doorbell rings. Footsteps are heard as the front door opens, revealing Clea in a white Centennial Cougars T-shirt, no doubt over her bikini. "Hi, Tim! C'mon in!!" she waves the paperboy inside. "Make yourself at home."
"Thanks, Clea. Where's everyone else?!" Tim hums, looking around, sensing the emptiness of the Webster household.
"Mom and Aunt Sammy are at work, Patty's with her friends and Grandma's who knows where," Clea waves him to the living room couch as she heads into the kitchen to get him a glass of juice. "I got the run of the whole place right now. So how're things at the home? No change from before?"
"You mean no potential families wanting to adopt an orphan teenager?" Tim scowls, then lightly smiles, nodding thanks as Clea comes back with a glass of grape juice. "Yeah, you're sure right about that, Clea. Who'd want to adopt someone like me?"
Clea stares at the handsome, maturing boy sitting across from her. Tim's natural parents died in a fire two years ago. With no relatives to help him get past that awful time and give him a safe environment for him to get through adolescence, he became a ward of the province of Ontario, they giving him a roof over his head until he became of age. She also knew through her mother that most kids forced through that didn't turn out so well when they finally faced the wide world beyond. "Well, maybe you'll get lucky one of these days," she demurely crosses her legs, gazing fondly at him.
Tim feels his heart fire into his throat as his eyes trail over those slender, lightly tanned limbs. Wow, Clea was a beauty for sure! He'd never get enough of looking at her no matter what she dressed in. And if he EVER saw her in the buff...?
He tries not to gulp too loudly as he senses his other "brain" begin to scent a possible point of interest.
Clea sighs, then rises, walking over to sit on the sofa beside him. "You okay?" she wonders, placing a hand close to his.
"Y-yeah, s-sure!" he flusters, laughing embarrassingly.
She clicks her tongue. "Relax, Tim. I understand what you're going through right now." Running her hands to scoop up her silky hair, she bats her lashes at him. "Am I beautiful?"
Tim blinks, then nods. "U-uh-huh..."
"Well, that's good," Clea lets her hair down, then relaxes, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.
Tim jolts as if someone had jabbed him with a live wire, his shaky hand letting go of the glass of juice. It lands on his leg, bouncing right to spill its contents over Clea's lap! "Oh, shit!!" he gasps, moving to catch the fallen glass, then he turns to help control the damage. "I'm sorry about that...!"
"It's okay, it's okay!!" Clea assures him, moving to yank the partially soaked T-shirt from her body. "Oh, hell!" she rises, pulling the shirt up to see that her bikini bottoms were soaked. "Damn, I'll have to clean this off! It's okay, Tim!!"
"I-I'm sorry..." Tim fumbles.
"It's cool, it's cool," she smiles assuredly at him, then moves to the bathroom. "I'll be just a moment, 'kay?!"
"O-okay!" Tim nods. "Look, I'll clean this up, alright?!"
"Thanks! You're an angel!" Clea calls back as she walks into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
Tim sighs, then shakes his head. Jeez, what a dumb-ass thing to do! Even if she was sexy to look at, Clea was his friend. He should at least try to control himself when he was visiting her. With that, he takes a breath, then walks into the kitchen to get a rag. At least one positive thing Tim had learned living for two years in a children's aid home was how to keep living areas clean. Little of the grape juice had spilt onto the sofa, so it wouldn't be too much to clean up...
* * *
A couple minutes later, Tim nods as he hangs the soaked rag on a kitchen rack, then heads back into the living room. He made sure the spilt grape juice, which could be damned sticky at times when it dried, didn't leave a stain on the sofa's leather surface. "Hey, Clea, it's all cleaned up!" he calls towards the bathroom as he moves to sit down. "Are you okay?!"
Tim blinks, then turns back. "Clea?!"
The orphaned eighth-grader blinks again, confusion and concern flowing through him as he heads down the hallway to the bathroom. "Clea...?" he hesitantly inquires, knocking on the bathroom door. "Hey, Clea, are you okay?! What's going on?!"
A low murmur tickles his ear. Tim blinks, then leans his ear against the door to listen. Yeah, Clea was in there, muttering something that didn't make any sense to him. Tim feels a lump in his throat as he knocks again. "Clea, what's going on?!"
Still no response. Tim gulps, trying not to shake too much as he reaches for the door handle. To his surprise, the door wasn't locked. VERY slowly, he peeks inside. "Clea...?"
Tim's eyes widen to the size of tea saucers on seeing Clea standing at the sink...with her T-shirt and bikini bottoms off. She was as still as a statue, staring at her image in the mirror. Both her arms were to her side, her hands slightly quaking. Her jaw was the only other part which was moving. With the door no longer in the way, Tim could make out some words. What she was saying sent a surge of confusion through him, enough to put a strong dampener on his libido, which had taken note of the nicely-trimmed patch of sandy blonde pubic hair over her groin.
"Help...Mom...Pat...help...someone...my name is Clea...help me, someone...my name is Clea...hurt...don't want...to die..."
"Clea!" Tim calls out, walking in to wave his hand before her face. Her eyes seem dull, lifeless. No response. With that, he reaches out to gently touch her hand. "Clea...?"
"...help me...my name..." Clea mutters, then she blinks as a look of surprise crosses her face before her head snaps around to stare confusedly at Tim. The younger man blinks, surprised at the jerkiness in his friend's movements. "Tim," she then smiles.
"Clea, what's wrong?!" Tim repeats, gently squeezing her hand. "Are you okay?! You scared the hell outta me, you know!"
"I'm alright," Clea smiles, then turns, walking out of the bathroom, totally ignorant of the fact that she was bare-assed to the wind and Tim could see almost all her assets coming and going.
Tim scrambles to follow Clea into a bedroom, one he is quick to recognize as his host's. Clea stops, then her face blanks out for a moment, her jaw slightly open, the quake in her hands gone. Tim nearly runs right into her back, then backs away, a new surge of fear crawling up his spine as he stares at her. "Clea, you're acting weird! Willya cut it out...?!"
"I love you, Tim."
Silence. Tim blinks, stunned at Clea's sudden declaration. If his jaw was any lower, it'd be on the floor. Taking another steadying breath, he moves around her to gaze into her passive face, the concern and fear now fighting for control of his heart having become an excellent dampener to his libido. "Clea...?"
"Tim, am I beautiful?" Clea stares at him.
He blinks. There was a slight smile to her face though she flashes no other sign of emotion. Gulping his heart back into his chest, he nods. "Y-yeah, you're very beautiful."
"I'm glad you think so, Tim. Do you want to make love?"
Tim jerks, his eyes widening as blood rushes to his groin to inflate his member. "Cl-clea...don't you...um, gee, ah...!"
Clea blinks. "Take my top off."
He pause, then stares at her bikini top. "Take my top off," Clea urges again.
With that, Tim feels courage...should he call it that?...lift his arms up to the bow tie securing Clea's top down. He undoes it, allowing the small patches of cloth to fall away from a perfectly shaped pair of breasts for a sixteen year old. Gazing on them, he whistles as his hands allow the bikini top to cascade from her shoulders. Clea remains perfectly still, her soft eyes fixed on his. From what he did understand about sex and intimate relations between guys and girls, Tim knew Clea wouldn't be considered "abnormal" in looks for a sixteen-year old. In that, he was glad. From his experience, girls who became too pretty too soon became first-class snobs. He hated those types of girls.
Sensing she was nude, Clea smiles as she reaches over to gently draw Tim into her embrace. Tim stood to her eye level, so she had to lean down lightly to kiss him. He blinks, then exhales contently as her mouth gently pries his open, her tongue darting in to tag his. His hands slide up to return her hug as their tongues began to playfully duel, then Tim moans as he feels one of Clea's hands slide down to his crotch, gently stroking his throbbing manhood under his jeans and boxer shorts. Her fingers then dance up to unbutton his jeans, then she unzips his pants. Tim blinks as he tries to concentrate on what Clea was doing, but the warmth and tenderness of her kiss keeps hazing his attention.
A jerk, then his pants drop to his ankles. Clea's fingers return to his crotch as she gently rubs his hardening member, then she tugs at the band of his boxers. Tim blinks, then gently pulls away from her as his hands move to shove the interfering cloth from his hips. With that, both of Clea's hands move to gently stroke his manhood as he shrugs off his T-shirt. "Clea...?"
"I love you, Tim. This is a way for me to express my love for you," she explains, then sits on the bed, beckoning him to follow.
Making him stand before her, she gently strokes his shaft as her fingers trail along the blood vessels, making it bigger with each gentle tug. Tim gasps as she breathes on him, then opens her mouth to swallow it wholesale. A gurgled gasp escapes him as she sucks in with each stroke, creating a strong vacuum effect that was hazing all his perceptions save for what Clea was doing to him.
Clea makes a few more strokes on Tim's member, then she guides him to lay on the bed. Straddling him, she leans down to kiss him as her hands move back to keep his manhood at full attention. She then shifts herself, allowing him to sink deep inside her womanhood as she begins to gently sway her hips to both sides and up. Tim gasps, nearly feeling himself let go inside her as he thrusts his member in and out of Clea, she arching her back.
Tim jolts on hearing Clea's whole body quiver as if she had been shot, then she slumps down, her head drooping. Through his arousal-hazed daze, he fails to see a whiff of smoke escape her nose, ears and lips. "Help..." she eeps in the timid voice Tim had heard in the bathroom. "My name is Clea...help me...Mom...Pat..."
Tim stares at her, trying desperately to make sense of a situation he couldn't BEGIN to understand, then he feels the strength in Clea's body vanish. She collapses atop him. The air is forced out of his lungs, then he shoves Clea off him, they disengaging. Clea flips over, then remains still, her eyes staring lifelessly at the ceiling. Tim takes several deep breaths, then blinks as he gazes at the high school sophomore beside him. His eyes then widen on seeing the vapour drifting around her face.
"Clea...?" he sits himself up, then kneels to wave his hand over her eyes. "Clea?! Clea?!!" he moves to shake her. "CLEA!!!"
No response. Tim blinks, then tears spring into his eyes as the fear turns to sorrow. "Clea, what's wrong with you...?" he whispers, then leans over to gently kiss her. The acid smell of the smoke leaking from her nose then assaults his nostrils. It smelled like...burnt plastic...melted metal...what the...?!
He leans back, then feels the side of her face. "Clea, what are you...?" he feels her forehead.
Her eyes blink once. "My-name-is-Cle.a-Al.i.son-Web.ster," she announces, her voice a flat monotone. "I-am-an-an.droid."
Tim jolts, then his jaw drops. "No way!!!"
He slumps back, shaking his head in disbelief. An android?! Clea?!! It just...it just...made no...no SENSE!! There was no way current technology (he wasn't much of a science fiction buff but he knew enough to understand some things) could make such a lifelike machine like Clea. This had to be some crazy joke!! "Clea...?"
"Mal.func.tion-in-pel.vic-cir.cuit-re.lay. O.ver.load-of-va.gin.al-e.pi.der.mal-sen.sor-nodes," she blinks mechanically, sounding akin to the main computer of the starship Enterprise from the old Star Trek. "To.tal-sys.tem-shut.down-ex.e.cut.ed." Blink. "Self-di.ag.nos.tic-com.plete." Blink. "In.ter.nal-pow.er-grid-now-re.a.lign.ing-to-main.tain-pri.mar.y-u.nit-me.mo.ry-func.tions." Blink. "Speech-pro.to.col-res.tor.a.tion-in.it.i.a.ted-to-bet.ter-con.tact-with-u.nit's-cho.sen-or.gan.ic-mate." Blink, then a look of relief melts across her face. "Oh, thank God..." she exhales, then her eyes turn to Tim, an apologetic grin crossing her face. "Tim, are you okay?"
"Clea, this wasn't really funny, ya know!!" Tim snaps.
She gently exhales. Tim blinks, then notices that while her face could move around, the rest of her body was limp. "If this was a joke, I wouldn't be laughing too much, either," she asserts, then closes her eyes. "But it's true, Tim. I'm an android."
He stares at her, then sighs. "Prove it."
"Okay. See my belly button?"
"Put your finger into it, then press until you hear a 'click.' That'll open my main circuit hatch." A pause, then, "Oh, before you do, you better open the window to let the air in. Burnt circuits really smell bad...even to me," she winks, smiling.
Tim blinks, surprised at her candour, then shuffling to his feet, he slides the window open before sitting himself on the bed. Gazing at her navel, he blinks, then slips his index finger into the indentation in her skin. Funny, it FELT right to him, not so different when he used a finger to get the dust bunnies out of his own navel. With that, he presses...
His eyes widen as a black line forms a rectangle about twenty centimetres square around her navel. Smoke gently waifs from the crack, making him recoil from the stench. "Ugh, that's gross!"
"Stay back from me for a bit until it goes away," Clea instructs. "Once it's gone, you can open me up."
Tim blinks, then sighs, turning away as he reaches down to slip on his boxers. With what just happened, even his libido seemed turned off by whoever...WHATEVER...was beside him. "You can't be real, Clea. You can't be a robot."
"Believe me, I'm pretty real, Tim," Clea sighs, closing her eyes. "At first, when I was 'born,' I didn't want to believe it myself. But I have no choice in this matter, Tim."
"'No choice?'" he stares quizzically at her.
A sigh. "In a way, I'm as much an orphan as you, Tim. I've NO idea who built me, much less why I was built. One day, there was nothing. Next day, there I was. Clea Alison Webster, android teenager. What's even more crazy is that I could fit in so easily with outside society. There're birth records and everything else about me out there. To all of society, I'm a real person."
Tim blinks. "This is scary."
"Bet on it," Clea blinks, then sighs. "Okay, the smell's gone. You ready to see what a technological marvel I am?"
"Got no choice; it was me that hurt you in the first place," Tim moves to kneel beside her. "Did you short-circuit?"
"Yeah, I did. I am waterproofed so I can take baths and showers, plus swim like normal people, but some of that grape juice seeped into my vagina when you spilled it, then probably went right through the skin to hit some of my vaginal epidermal sensors. There's so many of them in that part of my body, any contact with any liquid which doesn't agree with them always nails me."
Tim blinks, then reaches over to gently tug at the flap of artificial skin around Clea's navel. Pulling it up, he gapes on seeing a human spinal column and floating ribs, musculature and ligaments to simulate the natural feel of a normal person, some flexible plastic-like tubes...A digestive system of some sort? Tim wonders...plus loads of wires and leads leading from all sides to a spherical globe the size of a baseball. A puff of smoke now seeped from a slot-hatch akin to a computer floppy drive.
"Okay, see the globe with all the wires?" Clea asks.
"Yeah," Tim nods.
"That's my central control relay nexus. Sorta like a normal person's spinal cord; that connects right to my brain. All the control circuits in my body connect there. Whenever there's a short circuit anywhere in my body, the energy always backlashes to wreck the buffer disk inside the nexus. I guess I was designed that way to save maintainers the need of tearing globs of my skin off to effect detailed circuit repairs. What you got to do now is draw out the old buffer disk, then put in a new one."
"Where do you got the spare ones?" Tim asks.
"My nightstand. Top drawer. You recognize them off the bat; they're silver and the size of a loonie."
Tim moves over, then slides open the shelf. "Okay, got one," he pulls out a silver disk, then sits beside Clea. Staring at her CCRN, he notices a button beside the disk drive. Reaching in, he taps it. The drive opens, ejecting a disk that was clearly burnt. "Ugh, this one's DEFINITELY toast!" he pulls it out, then slips the new one in, relaxing as it automatically loads.
Clea blinks, then sighs. "Alright, can you close me up?"
Tim takes the section of her skin, then places it back over her circuit hatch. Pushing in from the sides, he relaxes on hearing another click, then whistles as Clea's skin instantly seals up. "Wow, I can't find a single crack!!"
"Yeah, neat, huh?!" she sighs. "Tim?"
"I'm going to shut my brain down for a bit. This'll give my body a chance to mend itself with the new control disk."
"How long?" he hums.
"About an hour. Relax and make yourself at home," a sly grin crosses her face. "Hell, if you want, have some fun with me. I'd be a perfect lovedoll to you."
He blinks, then moves to gaze into her eyes. "Clea?"
"Did you really mean what you said?"
She blinks, then smiles. "Yes, I really meant what I said. I love you, Timothy Reynolds. I love you very much."
Tim blinks, then leans down to kiss her. "I'll see you in an hour, Clea."
"Okay..." Clea's eyes close...
* * *
An hour later, Clea's eyes open. Inside her, diagnostics go to work to analyze her present state. Well, nothing was wrong and her pelvic circuits had fully energized and regenerated themselves. She learned over the last couple of years that when she shut down her conscious mind, her internal systems always took the time to regenerate any natural wear-and-tear. This logically necessitated that Clea intake solid matter...food...to ensure she had necessary basic materials for her internal fusion reactor to build new parts.
Blinking, she looks down, then her eyes widen on seeing that she is now in a T-shirt and gym shorts. A glance to her right sees Tim asleep beside her, he himself having dressed. She relaxes, immediately accessing her epidermal sensor logs, which remain active regardless of what state her mind was in.
No quick feel?
Nothing at all?!!
He just dressed her, then...left her be...?
Staring at his peaceful features, framed with shaggy brown hair cut to his chin line, his still-childish face dotted with cute freckles, Clea smiles. "You are so beautiful," she slides herself over to lay beside him. "I'm so glad I chose you, Tim."
She kisses his forehead, then reaches for his hand as she closes her eyes, allowing her mind to rest. As an android, Clea didn't really need sleep, but she so much loved to dream...
* * *
"Hello! Clea?! Are you home?!"
Clea blinks as she wakens, rising as footfalls are heard in the hallway outside. Looking over, she sees Tim still asleep beside her. A depressed look crosses her face. Oh, forgive me for destroying your innocence like that, Tim. If I say I love you, I have no right to hurt you like that, she leans over to kiss his forehead, eliciting a gentle murmur from the sleeping boy, then she stands, walking out of her bedroom. "Hi, Grandma!"
Looking up from her evening paper, Monique Webster smiles. One would be hard pressed to believe this gorgeous woman now in a casual business suit was 54 years old. The only deference to age anywhere on Monique's body was her long silver hair and the laugh lines crinkling around her eyes. "Hello, dear," she allowing Clea to embrace her, then she sniffs the air around the younger woman. "Dear, what happened? Did you have a short circuit?"
"Yeah, I did. Tim accidentally spilt some grape juice on my lap and it seeped into my vaginal circuits," Clea gently smiles.
"He knows now, does he?" Monique sighs.
"About me," Clea asserts. "Not about you or the others."
The older woman sighs. "Well, we should tell him when he's fully ready for it," she lightly smiles. "In the meantime, I've had a long day, so I'm going to make supper. Is he still here?"
"Yeah, he's asleep in my bedroom. I just hope the people at the children's aid home don't get too upset over him being gone and all that," Clea scowls.
"Call them and tell them he's a guest of ours for the time being. They won't mind that," Monique instructs.
With that, Monique heads into the kitchen. Clea goes into the dining room, dialling the number for the local children's shelter. As soon as the other end answers, she identifies herself and tells them about Tim. Instantly, the social worker wonders if he has done something wrong. Indignation surges through Clea on hearing that. Damned typical of those idiots, she muses. To her, the people working there seemed bred to not trust their charges to do the right thing when they were outside the aide centre's gates.
Assuring her things were alright, Clea ends the conversation, then hangs up before heading back into the kitchen. Monique is now at the stove. "Those creeps!" Clea sighs, sitting at the table.
"Yes, they are a strange lot, aren't they?" Monique chuckles. "So, tell me exactly what happened today."
Clea sighs, then explains. Monique hums, then nods. "Well, that's a new thing we know now about our bodies," she bites her lip, then turns back to her cooking. "How was his reaction?"
"Disbelief, then acceptance (especially after he opened me up), but I can tell it just overwhelmed him," Clea asserts, then sits back. "I raped him, Grandma. Even if I was short-circuiting, I raped someone I care for. There was no excuse for that..."
"The only way that explanation can wash is if the whole world accepted beings like ourselves, Clea," Monique soothes. "But they can't and I've no intention of going out to advertise ourselves just to seek wider acceptance. If you feel uncomfortable about it, talk to him. He's a smart boy, Clea. Give him the chance."
"I hope so," Clea sighs, then perks as her hearing picks up a confused moan from her bedroom. "Oh, he's waking up. Excuse me."
Rising, she heads to her bedroom. Tim was now sitting up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Staring at him, Clea shudders as her love and devotion for the organic now on her bed surges through her anew, then she sighs. "How are you?"
He gazes at her, then smiles. "I'm okay. Geez, what time is it, anyway?" he looks around, then gargles on seeing the clock on the nightstand. "Oh, shit!! The guys at the Centre are gonna...!"
"Relax, I called them and told them you were here," Clea assures him as she sits beside him, reaching for his hand to give him a reassuring squeeze. "They got testy because they thought you did something wrong, but I made sure they understood."
He blinks on feeling her touch, then relaxes. "Thanks."
"Hey, I look out for the people I love," she leans over to kiss his cheek. "How are you, Tim?"
"I dunno," he tucks his legs in. "I mean...I always thought you were so beautiful...but...well, not like other girls! Geez, I was sure right about that, wasn't I? But..." he sighs, then stares at her. "And...you don't have any idea who built you, right?"
"None," she shakes her head. "If you knew, Tim, I'd be beyond grateful to you. But I don't."
"Does your mom and grandma accept you?"
"Sure they do! In fact, Grandma's home right now cooking some dinner. You hungry?"
He blinks. "You eat?!"
"Yep. My body needs matter to help maintain itself. It's really no different than what you organics have to do."
"Okay," Tim sighs, then sniffs. "Oh, man, I need a shower."
"Here, you shower up and I'll get you some fresh clothes to wear. You reek of sweat and my burnt circuits," Clea guides him into the bathroom, then kisses his cheek.
Tim blushes, then turns to head inside before stopping, looking back. "Clea?"
She blinks, then gazes knowingly at him. "I'll be just a minute," she winks.
He steps in, stripping his T-shirt, jeans and boxers before turning the shower on, warming it up, then steps inside. Looking around, he whistles; the shower was big enough to fit three people comfortably. With that, he washes himself down as he picks up a bar of soap, then begins to attack the sweaty parts of his body.
The curtains beside him open, revealing a smiling Clea. Tim looks at her, his eyes darting to her breasts and pubes, then he gulps as she steps in, placing herself under the shower head as she soaks herself. "You're not gonna short-circuit now, I hope!" he smiles, his eyes dancing over her buttocks and well-toned back.
"No, my skin's totally sealed against normal water penetration to my epidermal circuits. The natural acids in the grape juice were probably what got me earlier," Clea assures him, then taking the soap from his hand, turns him around to get at his back.
Tim sighs as the android woman's hands dart lovingly over his body. No one had done this for him in a long time, ever since he was a baby and his mother brought him into the family bath to wash him. Well, there were the times when he and Randi copped a quick feel or two in the children's aid centre's communal shower every time they were alone. He sighs, then feels concerned hands on his shoulders. "Tim, are you okay?" Clea gently inquires.
"Yeah, I'm okay," Tim nods.
He then shudders on feeling a very soft cushion-like sensation surge through his back, tipped with two hardening points. Clea's arms wrap around him as she kisses the back of his neck. "I love you, Tim," Clea's voice is heartwarming. "I love you so much."
"Why me, Clea?" he sighs.
She blinks, then shrugs. "I don't know why. Then again, I think that's love's ultimate allure. Even if I'm an android, I feel it, too. The first day I saw you deliver papers, everything you did seemed to take my breath away."
"Does your mom know?"
"Yeah, they all know. Relax, Tim. Mom won't get in the way. In the meantime, I think supper's ready."
They wash and rinse themselves, then step out of the shower. Taking a soft towel, Tim gently dries Clea. She grins as he pays close attention to her breasts, buttocks and pubes. A quick glance at his manhood elicits a delighted sigh; he clearly was aroused by her and their gentle foreplay. Well, that was good. As soon as he got over the shock of Clea's android nature being forced on him, they were in great shape. Once he fully accepted it, she'd tell him about the others.
Once she is dry, she takes a towel and gently dries him. Tim shudders as she lovingly strokes his manhood, teasing him with gently flecks of her fingers and her breath. "Tim?" Clea hums.
"Do you want a quick blow-job?"
He blinks, then shakes his head. "Uh-uh. Hold me."
Clea sighs, then smiles as she sets the towel aside before drawing him close. He sighs as the wonderful feeling of her breasts on his upper chest sends a new surge of delight through him. They stare into the other's eyes, then kiss. "I want to love you back, Clea," Tim then asserts. "Can you teach me how?"
"You bet I will," she winks...
* * *
"Well, you two took long enough."
Tim flusters as he and Clea sit at the dining room table. Monique had whipped up pulgogi (a marinated Korean beef dish) with vegetables and mashed potatoes. The three have grace, then dig in. "Sorry I caused so much trouble," Tim gazes on the older woman to his right. "I didn't want to hurt Clea."
"I'm sure you didn't...and since you didn't know the truth before it happened, you didn't know what to expect," Monique smiles assuredly. "Don't worry. The damage was easily corrected and you stayed to help her recover. That speaks very highly of you, Tim. You show a wonderful maturity that belies how young you are."
"Thanks, Ms. Webster," Tim blushes, then hums. "So it doesn't bother you that Clea's an android?"
"Of course not, sweetie. She's still my granddaughter and Mary's daughter. It doesn't bother us at all."
Tim nods, then blinks. Strange. Why wouldn't it bother Clea's grandmother or mother? Didn't they want a real baby?
A chill runs through him as he gazes anew at Monique. He knew how old she was; she had celebrated her birthday back in January. But she sure looked worlds younger...and a lot prettier, so...so alive!...than most women closing in on retirement.
Could it be?
Monique stares quizzically at him, then smiles. "You are so perceptive, aren't you?" she winks at him.
Tim returns her gaze, then smiles. Monique Webster was being very casual and friendly about it, so he should give it back to her. "You're an android, too, aren't you?"
"Yes, I am," Monique nods. "As are my daughters and Patty. We're a whole family of androids. And no, none of us have any idea who created us and why. In that sense, we're orphans, just like you. I guess that's your appeal to all of us, especially Clea. You were delivered a terrible blow when your parents died and you were forced into the province's care. Yet you still endure, try your best to remain positive. That says a lot about you."
"Wow!!" Tim blinks, then sighs. "Does anyone know...?"
"Not your ordinary man-on-the-street...and we do our best not to advertise. Did you ever see Men In Black, Tim?"
"Yeah, that was a really cool movie!" he nods.
"Do you remember what Kay said to Jay about how they treated aliens and their presence on Earth?"
He hums, then nods. "Oh, yeah. He said something about persons being nice and people being rotten."
"Close," Clea smirks. "A person approached one-on-one...like I did with you...would understand if given the chance. People as a whole wouldn't because society can be really nasty when it comes to pressuring people to toe whatever line marks what's 'acceptable' to the masses. Yeah, a lot of folks would, if they're given a chance, probably accept us at face-value. But then, you got the religious whackos, the simophobes and all that..."
"'Simophobe?'" Tim blinks.
"Our term for those who'd be afraid of androids like us," Monique smiles. "Finish your dinner, Tim. I want to show you something afterward, then we'll let you go home, okay?"
"Okay!" Tim turns back to his dish.
Clea blinks, then stares at her grandmother. "Are you sure you want to show him her right away?" her eyebrows arch.
"He deserves to know, Clea," Monique winks at her. "Besides, I think he'll like it a lot."
"Like what?" Tim asks.
"It's a surprise," Monique playfully bats his nose. "If I told you now, that'd spoil the surprise."
Laughter fills the dining room as they finish up. When the last of the food is cleared, Tim pitches in to help clean up. He and Clea steal warm glances at each other, then he gazes on Monique. A fleck of guilt surges through him, then he stares at Clea to confirm if it was okay to gaze on her youthful-looking grandmother. Clea winks at him. Monique is quick to notice the attention. "Tim, rest assured, you're a healthy boy if you stare at me and feel some arousal. I know how pretty I am."
"Yeah, you're all beautiful," Tim asserts, then sighs. "Ms. Webster, can I ask you something?"
"We might as well go by first name basis. I'm Monique," she gazes on him. "What is it, Tim?"
"Well..." he sighs. "I've had nice dreams about Clea for some time now. And...well, I have 'em too about Patty...and their moms and...and even you, too, Monique..."
The older-looking woman grins. "That IS a compliment!" she laughs, then pats his shoulder. "Tim, sweetie, it's quite alright. Puberty is a very weird time for organics like you. With all the taboos about sex and all that, plus the fact that you mature so fast at this time in your life, it's no wonder teenagers get so damned confused. Don't worry about it too much. If you want to know, we all care for you in this household. Believe it or not, if you felt the need to explore your sexuality, you can do so with any of us. We're very discrete about that because we're discrete about a lot of things. I'm sure Clea won't mind...as long as you tell her, of course. Jealousy about a simple spike in sexual arousal is pretty illogical if you ask me," she clicks her tongue.
Tim blinks, then gazes at Clea for confirmation. The younger-looking woman winks. "It's alright, Tim. We don't need sex, but we enjoy it as an expression of love. I wouldn't be offended if you took interest in the others here." A coy look then crosses her face. "Maybe you'll let me join in!" she purrs, leaning over to playfully kiss his cheek.
Tim flusters, then sputters a response. Monique and Clea laugh as they finish with the dishes. Taking a deep breath, he sighs, then stares at Clea. "Um...Clea, can I do something?"
"What?" she gazes on him.
"I...I need to open your circuit hatch. Is that okay?"
Clea blinks, then smiles, hiking her dress up to reveal her bared midriff, covered at the lower end by white lace panties. Tim presses into her belly button. Click! The circuit hatch opens, then he pulls the cover away. Gazing at her CCRN, he places two fingers to his lips, then reaches in to touch the silver globe.
Clea gasps as a surge of arousal flushes through her, then she relaxes as he restores her skin. They then gaze into the other's eyes. "That'll be my way of saying 'I love you,'" he smiles.
Clea blinks, then swoons. "Tim, that was so erotic..." she sighs, then leans down to kiss him. "And I love you, too."
Tim smiles, then stares at Monique. "I want to do it to you, too, Monique. Is this okay?"
Monique blinks, then smiles contently. "You sweet, wonderful little jewel..." she whispers, then unbuttons her shirt to reveal her abdomen. "Alright, go ahead."
He sighs, then presses into her navel. Click! Monique's circuit hatch opens, then he gently draws the skin away. Fingers to his lips as he passes a kiss to her CCRN. Monique shudders as some of her circuits seem to overload, then she smiles. "Oh, you sweet boy," she relaxes as he restores her to normal, then they share a kiss. "And yes, I love you too, Tim. Just for that, the next time you come by, I'll let you have some fun with me, okay?!"
"Okay!" Tim nods.
"Now, we come to the surprise!" Monique buttons her shirt, then waves them to the door leading to the basement.
Clea and Tim follow the older woman downstairs. To Tim's surprise, the basement of the Webster home was finished into a private apartment. No doubt, this was where Monique lived; there were bedrooms upstairs each for Clea, Patty, Mary and Samantha. Stepping into the foyer, the three turn left into what was once a storage room. Opening the door, Monique waves Tim and Clea inside, then follows them. "Well, what do you think?"
Tim gapes. The storage room had been rebuilt into a personal science lab. No doubt, if any of the Webster family was badly hurt, this was where they'd turn to for medical...Would people call it 'medical?' Tim wonders...care. The room was pretty well equipped, with computers, generators and shelves full of a mix of medical and precision engineering equipment. No doubt, because they were so human...yet still machines...the Websters had to improvise when they created their android hospital.
But what takes his breath away is the beautiful woman now on the raised diagnostic bed in the middle of the room. She appears to be Clea's age, but more well-developed with rounder breasts and more accentuated curves in her hips. Covered modestly with a towel, her eyes are closed. She has long, stringy strawberry blonde hair cascading to past her shoulders. Walking up to her, Tim reaches over to feel the skin around her face, then he gently pries open one eyelid to reveal a chestnut-shaded eye, now dull with no spark of life deep within her iris.
Sighing, he gazes at Monique and Clea, then sensing their permission to inspect further, reaches down to draw away the towel and gaze at her. Her breasts were very perky, tipped with jutting nipples framed in small areolae. Downstairs, she had a natural bush of dark red pubic hair. Tim reaches out to touch her navel, then presses in. Click! Her circuit hatch opens, then he pulls the skin back to look inside. All brand-new parts, silent with their lifelessness. With that, he restores her to normal, then puts the towel back. "She's beautiful."
"We're glad you like her," Monique smiles. "Do you want to give her a name, Tim? Say something similar to your own?"
He blinks, then smiles. "Okay. Terri Karen Reynolds." Tim's proper given names were Timothy Kane.
"Alright, then," Monique sighs, then gazes tranquilly at him. "There's a reason I built her, Tim. Put simply, after we all found out you were an orphan, we...became concerned about you. We began to care for you. Clea's love for you...and mine, too...are an outgrowth of that concern. Put simply, we're afraid that if you spend more time in that damned orphanage, the sweet, wonderful boy we know will be lost to us once and for all. We don't want that."
Tim blinks, then gazes at Terri's still face. He blinks, then turns back to Monique. "Y-you mean...you want me to...?"
"Become an android. Yes," Monique nods. "We have the ability to do that, Tim. Do it in such a way that will give you a much better measure of control over your life than you have now. I know it might be foolish to ask you this now, but...would you consent to having your soul transferred into her?" she indicates the unmoving android before them. "To become Terri Reynolds?"
Tim blinks, his mouth opening to respond...