The Unnamed Man was still drunk, angry that his companion broke down after only one go-round. He walked out the back door.
He didn’t even tell anyone that Shannon had malfunctioned. Since the man still had 11 ½ hours with his youthful playmate, no one would even check on the room until mid-morning Friday.
Every five minutes, an imperceptible electronic him could be heard around Shannon’s body. A timer would try to activate her, and she would animate briefly:
“Error. Corrupted interface to main memory. Please service immediately to avoid further product damage,” her speaker proclaimed to no one, before she went limp again.
After ten tries, a port opened where the fembot’s breastplate would be, and a tiny antenna rose up. It didn’t work, just like most of her other fail-safe protocols.
* * *
In a high-class club, the administrator bots would know instantly that Shannon had failed and why. Before the man — whom everyone would know by name — had the chance to leave dissatisfied, three companions of equal value would be at his door. They would offer him two of them for the full time period, while the other would carry Shannon back for a full cleaning and diagnostic.
But companions broke down all the time at the Donkey Show. That was nothing new. Two weeks before, a late-model Cindy got stuck in a loop while giving fellatio to a regular client. He couldn’t get her off him until she drew blood.
After the client pushed her over, she blinked twice and then fluttered her long eyelashes: “Did I give you pleasure?” was all her partner heard before he passed out…
That was the thing about a club like the Donkey Show. A “client” could get many of the personal services of the nicer clubs for one-tenth the price and without the background checks, as long as they signed an immunity waiver.
But the low fees meant the club had no realistic way to maintain its stable of artificial lovelies. Since most of the companions there were already far past their recommended service lives, the club made a profit by jury-rigging deactivated models from salvage and scrapping usable parts back when the companions ultimately failed.
* * *
Another hour passed. The same startup routine ran another 12 times.
Finally, at the two-hour mark, Shannon twisted her head, burying it into the mattress. Then from her speaker, plain as day: “Secondary startup protocols activated.”
The chest antenna retracted into her breastplate, leaving no trace on her even skin. Her eyes opened and lit up. The faint noises coming from inside her stopped with a blink, followed by two loud beeps.
“Warning. Shannon model N2-9307 operating on auxiliary processors only. Please service immediately to avoid further product damage.”
A second or two later, Shannon’s artificial breathing started, along with a moan to indicate her deeper “seductive” voice protocols had activated. She moved to sit on the bed.
Without orders from her current master, after 60 seconds her diagnostic programs kicked in to investigate her fatal violation. She stared straight ahead while her arms and legs moved in and out, and her neck swiveled from side to side.
“My name is Shannon, and I’m here for your every pleasure,” she said in her seductive voice, her eyes remaining glazed over. “You’re a big boy. Are you ready for me? I want you now. Sure, I’ll do anything you want.”
Satisfied that her spatial and verbal functions had passed the test, she moved directly to her sexual diagnostics. Suddenly, her nipples were being stimulated as though a partner were touching them. Her vaginal pumps primed, releasing a small amount of lubricant to correspond with her soft moans.
“Let me show you everything I can do.” Shannon blinked twice, then waited as her breasts inflated from the mosquito bites they had been when she failed earlier to gravity-defying F cups.
She was laying on her back now, her eyes still staring ahead, her latest breasts sitting proudly above her chest. Her vaginal entry started to move back and forth, filled with her artificial juices.
RRD EXCEPTION
“Oh uh-uh—uh—uh—uh M-m-master,” she cried as the motors in her sex moved faster and faster.
Her lower section moved upward to push against her nonexistent partner, reaching a pace and rhythm beyond human ability, while her moans grew louder.
PRP SYSTEM ERROR
ILLEGAL FUNCTION
PREORGASM…. FAILURE
In a heartbeat, the “sweat” dotting Shannon’s face disappeared and all movement stopped. Turning her head to the side:
“Sexual systems failure. Orgasm and vaginal stimulation subroutines have been disabled. Please service immediately to avoid further product damage.”
Then, her eyes died as she rebooted.
* * *
Another few minutes went by. Shannon’s eyes lit up again. Then two more loud beeps.
“Warning. Shannon model N2-9307 operating on auxiliary processors only. Please service immediately to avoid further product damage.”
Another pause.
“Sexual systems failure. Orgasm and vaginal stimulation subroutines have been disabled. Please service immediately to avoid further product damage.”
As her breathing again started, her massive breasts shrunk to her default size, the tempting, firm D-cups she had last sported with the Unnamed Man. Her personality subroutines reinitialized, changing her facial expression to the sexually aggressive teen-stripper pose she normally carried with human partners.
The secondary reboot reset all of her clocks, so she cleaned herself to go back out. The inside of her vagina heated to more than 200 degrees, giving her pubic region a soft glow.
A panel on her forearm opened, exposing a pouch filled with cleaning pads. She used the damp pad with two fingers to clean up her still-wet juices. When her systems could detect no foreign particles, the sanitation system shut off automatically.
Still nude, she walked out of the room, past everyone in the club, and into the warm, starry night.
Shannon's Third Law -- Part 2
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ministrations
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DollSpace
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Bunnybot
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The idea with the cleaning pads in her arm pannel realy intrigued me. I love those kind of details always, like the little screwdriver repair set integrated in fembot hatches in manny anime movies. Things that make sense, of cause a robot which primary function is a sexbot needs something for instant cleanup 
More please!
More please!-
ministrations
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Yeah, Nova was definitely an inspiration in this, the most obvious manifestation being the red hair.
I've thought that gynoids would be like most other mass-produced devices: Cheap ones would either be archaic or full of empty space, and higher-end producers would sit in rooms all day thinking of features to stock in their models.
On the other hand, there is more to the story on her cleaning system, which I'll bring up soon... I just need to sit down and write... (grrr)
I've thought that gynoids would be like most other mass-produced devices: Cheap ones would either be archaic or full of empty space, and higher-end producers would sit in rooms all day thinking of features to stock in their models.
On the other hand, there is more to the story on her cleaning system, which I'll bring up soon... I just need to sit down and write... (grrr)
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