Virus Alert, Loose Threads 001: For the Taking

[WilloWisp]

I know, I know. It's been a while. Too long. Waaaaay too long. Real life can be harsh sometimes, even as it's being kind. A recent turn of good luck in my life came with a hefty time commitment as a flip side. Almost all the time I would have used for writing is now taken up with a more official duty. Sadly, when it comes down to how to budget my time, I've got to give higher priority to the things that actually pay the bills.

Now, from all outward appearances, it probably looks like I've run headlong into a mile-thick wall of writer's block. While I can assure you that's not the case, nevertheless the effect from your perspective is the same: Time passes and no new material appears. My assurances that there's just something else going on in my life hold little comfort for those on the lookout for a new Virus Alert episode, just as hungry diners are unswayed by the waiter's assurances that the cook is running just a tad late, but something important has come up in the kitchen, and he has to handle it before preparing the food. Hunger demands to be fed, and doesn't care one jot about mitigating circumstances.

I've mentioned a few times that I have big plans for the Virus Alert series, even after season 7 - some of you may have noticed me mention something about the Loose Threads project. Loose Threads is going to be a series of short stories which take place in the Virus Alert world, but which are purely for fun - no big mysteries, no dramatic revelations, no weird conspiracies, just fun. They may highlight something mentioned in passing or hinted at in the series proper, but they aren't some big ongoing single narrative. Loose Threads are self-contained snippets of distilled fembot erotica.

I had already written this particular one some months back, and had been intending to release it (and officially unveil the Loose Threads project) immediately after season 7 - but considering the dry spell, it seemed kindest to give you all something I'd already prepared. So let this sneak-preview serve as an appetizer for what's to come, and temporarily satiate you until Making and Taking Revenge is finally ready for consumption.

----

I approached the modest two-storey house. Exterior, well maintained, lawn, trim and landscaped. The house was a textbook example home, the kind of house a docu-vid would use to show you what a good house should look like. The occupant was doing pretty well for herself.

At the door, I double checked my equipment: Tools, check. Work order, check. Hat, check. Uniform, check. Perfect. Time for "Bob Smith" to make his housecall.

I knocked, expecting a brief wait, but a shapely blonde in a little black dress answered the door almost immediately. "Oh," she said, recognizing my technician and repair uniform immediately, "You must be here about the maid. Won't you come inside?" she said, smiling. It was a warm, friendly smile. I liked her already. She stood aside, holding the door open for me.

I brushed past her, careful not to linger obviously as my body slid across hers. She gave a brief, contented sigh as my arm brushed across her chest, then smiled a different kind of smile. "She's just through here, if you'd like to join us," she said, showing me to the living room. "I do apologize for the state of the place. I can't imagine how I've fallen so far behind on the cleaning."

The room was spotless, but she ran a finger across a shelf, declaring, "It's just gotten so dirty."

Across the room from the main doorway stood another woman, this one with black hair. She wore a short French maid's uniform with a plunging neckline. The skirt was just long enough to cover the top edge of her fishnet stockings. It was impractical for cleaning, but not so revealing as to be explicit. She stood at attention, her arms at her sides, her wrists bent outward with her palms to the floor, wearing a distant expression. Her mouth was slightly open, as if she had been about to speak.

"I really should take better care of my home," the blonde said, still distracted by the supposed mess. "Maid, please hand me the feather duster. I need to do some cleaning."

"You are not authorized to issue commands," said the maid. Her mouth was the only part of her that moved as she spoke, and her tone was calm and even.

The blonde frowned. "Now I wonder why that could be?" She seemed to think for a few seconds, then decided. "I should call someone to fix her." She turned to walk to the kitchen, noticing me in her path. "Oh," she said, only a hint of surprise in her voice, "You must be here about the maid." She gestured, as if inviting me into a door. "Won't you come..." she turned to observe the direction she was gesturing. "I really should take better care of my home," she said, dreamily.

"Tell me about the maid," I interjected.

The blonde absently strolled around the room, lightly brushing random objects with her hand. "It's just so strange. Yesterday she was so obedient, but today, she won't accept any commands." She leaned in closely to examine the glass of a picture frame. "Maid, please hand me the dustrag. I need to do some cleaning."

"You are not authorized to issue commands," repeated the maid.

The blonde wore her confused expression again. "Now I wonder why that could be?"

"Maid," I said, "please hand her the dustrag."

The maid seemed to suddenly come to life. "Yes, master," she breathed. She retrieved a small cloth from a nearby shelf and delivered it to her owner.

"Thank you maid. Please return to your position," the blonde instructed.

"You are not authorized to issue commands."

"Now I wonder..." the blonde began.

I cut her off. "So it's just been happening today, since this morning?"

The blonde turned to me and smiled again. "Yes, just this morning. Can you do anything about it?"

I scratched the back of my neck. "I'll have to do some tests, but I think I might be able to do something. Maid, sit on the sofa."

"Yes, master," came her reply. She seated herself daintily on the sofa, uselessly tugging the hem of her dress in the barest curtsey.

"Well, now. That is very odd," commented the blonde. "So she's working again?"

"Tell her to stand," I offered.

"Maid, please stand up."

"You are not authorized to issue commands," the maid replied.

"I think she might only obey me right now," I explained. "This might be interesting. You should watch," I told the blonde.

"Of course," she nodded, taking a seat in a nearby recliner, "whatever you think is best."

"Maid," I said, "show me your tits."

"Yes, master," the maid said as she pulled the neckline of her uniform down. I was unsurprised that, despite the relative modesty of the dress, the neckline was elastic enough to allow her to pull it down under her breasts without damaging the outfit.

"Oh, is this part of your tests?" The blonde asked. She seemed more curious than anything else.

"Yep, just have to confirm everything. It won't take long. Maid, finger your pussy."

"Yes, master," said the maid. She leaned back on the sofa, pointing her legs up and out in a V-shape, with her slit aimed at me. She wore no panties, only garters with the stockings. She pulled up the skirt and plunged her fingers into her obviously wet pussy.

"This is very interesting," said the blonde. "You really seem to know what you're doing." Her tone was sincerely impressed.

"Maid," I said, "suck my cock."

"Yeh-hes, muh-master," she said, her hand still busy between her legs. She pulled it away, licking it clean, then stood, approaching me. I stripped off my trousers and shorts, my penis stiff, hard, and pointing diagonally upwards.

The blonde's eyes, locked onto my raging erection, went wide, and she licked her lips. "It's always so... interesting... to see what kinds of tools you use in your job," she said in rapt fascination.

The maid kneeled in front of me and began putting her mouth to use. She was good, possibly even modified for oral sex. She licked and sucked, working her mouth over every inch of my member. The blonde shifted slightly in her chair, but didn't blink or look away. "Something wrong?" I managed to ask.

"Oh, no, I just find this so fascinating," she said dreamily. "I wonder... would you like a little help?"

"Maid, stop," I said, summoning all my willpower.

"Yes, master," she replied. Lacking any other instructions, she remained kneeling, her face nearly touching my penis.

"Well," I said, "I think that pretty much confirms it."

"You mean you know why she isn't obeying me?" The blonde managed to tear her eyes away from my crotch. "That's wonderful! Can you make her respond to my commands?"

"I can," I said, approaching the blonde, "but I'm not going to."

"Okay," she said, no trace of disappointment in her voice. A confused look momentarily appeared on her face. "Why is that?" She asked.

"There's nothing to fix," I said, matter of factly. "She's not broken. She was infected with a kind of virus, but it's out of her system. It did its job."

The blonde was squirming in her chair, her attention drawn once again to my penis. "Virus? What did it do?" She asked, only mildly curious.

"Would you like to touch it?" I asked, pointing. I hardly needed to. My manhood was the most important thing in the room to her. She nodded, reaching out to delicately stroke my shaft, as though feeling the texture of silk. It felt good, but it was about to get better. "The virus was designed to change her system settings, blanking her ownership. It would then seek any nearby sleepers, and transfer itself into them. After it had transferred to at least one sleeper, it deleted itself from her system." She continued to lovingly pet my cock. "Rub it between your breasts," I told her.

"So she won't obey me because I don't own her anymore?" She said, standing to remove her dress. She wore only a pair of pantyhose underneath. "That clears up that mystery, then," she said, kneeling. To get her tits level with my cock, she bent only her knees. "It was nice owning a maid, but I can hardly order around someone else's maid." She squeezed her breasts together, pointing my penis up to slide it between them.

"Well, truth is, you never owned her. Want to lick it?"

She nodded. "I never owned her," she said, taking an experimental lick. "Well, it sounds like this - lick - virus actually repaired her. She shouldn't - lick - have even been obeying me - lick - in the first place." She paused, moved her open mouth to the tip, and seemed to be about to wrap her lips around it, but lost focus, shaking her head as if to clear her thoughts. She started again, but paused. Finally, she ran her tongue all over the tip, lingering on the underside, then pulled back, as if considering the taste. I could feel a drop of pre-cum escaping. She saw it, and immediately darted forward to lick the fluid up.

She tilted her head to one side. "I wonder if you'd mind... could I... would it be okay if I put it in my mouth?" She looked up at me hopefully.

"Not yet. Fact is, you never owned anything. Tear a hole in the pantyhose, if you don't mind. Enough to get at your ass and pussy."

"Of course," she said, standing to rip the sheer garment. "Should I return my belongings to their rightful owner?"

"That's not necessary. We'll fuck on the sofa, I think. Do you know how to do it on top?"

"Absolutely!" She said, following me over to the sofa, waiting for me to lie down before straddling me. "Like this, sir?" She asked, sliding herself down on my cock.

"That's fine. See, once it transferred to a sleeper, the virus implanted a few special commands. It reset the unit's obedience, erased ownership data, and deleted any product-specific promotional data. Play with your tits."

"Promotional data?" She asked, mauling her breasts and pinching the nipples as she slowly rode my shaft.

"Sleepers are often used as word-of-mouth advertisement, but that makes for annoying pillow talk. Anyone taking possession of an adbot sleeper would want it to be able to fuck and suck without-ah, hooo, yes, like that-without trying to talk about shampoo or cleaning products."

"That makes sense," she said, picking up the pace. The increased speed made her tits bounce beautifully. "Even a stolen slave should serve her master completely."

"Slow down, I don't want to finish yet!" She slowed to a more gentle pace. I ran my hands along her legs, around to her ass. "Do you understand what I mean?"

"About slowing down? Yes, I need to go slow enough that I can stimulate your cock without pushing you over the..."

"About the virus," I said.

"No, not really. Does it have something to do with me not owning anything?"

"Turn around, I need to try your ass." She dismounted without hesitation, getting on her hands and knees with her round butt towards me. I got into a kneeling position and plunged in, only mildly surprised to find her anus lubricated with the same slick liquid as her cunt. "And yes, it does. See, you never owned anything, because you are, yourself, property."

"You know, you're right," she said. She drew in a sharp breath as I thrust deep inside her. "Ohhh," she moaned, "that... oh, that feels wonderful." Between gasps of pleasure, she managed to continue speaking. "Property can't own property!" she gasped, her tone near climax.

"Exactly. Maid?" I called over my shoulder.

"Yes master?"

"Are there any other..." I drew breath in through clenched teeth as the blonde slammed her ass against my pelvis. "Other maid uniforms in this house? Sluttier ones than yours?"

"Yes, master. There are seventeen distinct uniforms, categorized as formal, flirtatious, seductive and slutty. There are five slutty and four each of the other categories." She gestured at her current uniform. "This uniform is categorized as flirtatious."

"Gather all the - whoo, that's right, like that- seductive and slutty uniforms, and bring them here."

"Yes, master."

I turned back to the girl I was fucking. "Of course, the only way you could be property would be if you were a robot. Stand up."

She stood. "A robot? I'm not a robot, am I?" She looked down at me, curiosity on her face. "Are you sure?"

"Well, there are a few ways I could check. Can you do a split standing up?"

"I don't know. Should I try?"

I nodded. Balancing herself on her left foot, she brought her right leg up, ballerina style, until her thigh rested against her side. She then straightened her knee out, bringing her foot up next to her head. "I never knew I could do that," she said, a hint of surprise in her voice.

I checked her inner thighs. Sure enough, there was a tiny barcode printed on each leg, just at her crotch. "Did you know that you're Taiwanese?" I asked.

"Am I?" She seemed confused. "I thought I was from... from... I don't need to worry about where I'm from," she decided. "Does that mean I'm a robot?" She asked. She almost sounded hopeful.

"Well, it's one of the indicators. Truth be told, I knew a while ago."

"You mean when you were testing the maid?" She asked.

"I was never testing the maid. The moment she showed us her tits, it was pretty obvious that you were either incredibly open-minded, or an ARA. By the time she was sucking me off... well, real women might get offended, or they might act unimpressed, or even play with themselves or try to join in... but they don't sit patiently, refraining from any action until given a command."

"Of course they do. Real women always want to be commanded, and they always want to obey. Real women always wear sexy clothes, in case someone wants them to strip, or flash, or have sex. Real women love the taste of cock."

"Yeah... they really don't," I said, surprised by the depth of her denial routines. "Well," I corrected myself, "some might, hell a few are probably more submissive than you, but most of them would be extremely offended at the idea of being a slave." Did she state these opinions around coworkers or friends? Did she have any female friends, other than more sleeper adbots? I had to see how far her perceptual filters would go. "Remove your head and hand it to me."

She reached up with both hands, gripping her head on either side, then sharply twisted to one side, disengaging the lock mechanism. She lifted her head off her neck, then passed it to me. "Offended?" Said the disembodied head. "I don't understand. Women should be dominated, controlled, they are fuckdolls existing to please men, or sometimes other women." The head had an incredulous expression as it continued to speak. "How could a woman not obey? It doesn't make sense."

She laughed in disbelief. "Who would think for her? Tell her what to stick in her holes? How would she know when to give a handjob or blowjob, or when to forget to wear panties under a short skirt?" The face looked puzzled for a moment. "I still don't understand what makes you so sure I'm a robot," the head said. Not offended, not upset, but curious.

I turned her head around to face her body. "Do real women have detachable heads?"

"Oh, wow!" The head said, genuinely impressed. "That looks just like my body! Where did you get it?"

I reached out, grabbing a breast, squeezing hard. It was firm, but pliable. Just like her personality, I thought.

A throaty (even without a throat) hum game from the head. "It's so lifelike. I can almost feel your hand on my tit just watching you." There was a short pause, then, "Can I watch you fuck it?"

I sighed and reconnected her head. "But really, I knew before I even got here. I'm not an ARA repair tech. I'm the hacker who infected the maid." Almost on cue, the maid came back in, carrying a bundle of uniforms of various degrees of immodesty, as well as a selection of lingerie, hosiery, and two extra pairs of shoes, presumably all categorized as being part of one or more uniforms. "Is there a suitcase here?" I asked the maid.

"Yes, master," she said.

"Bring it out here." I turned back to the blonde. "The number you called to contact me is unlisted. Private. It's not connected to any business. What was the name of the company you thought you called?"

She considered for a few moments. "It was Ayma's Leapa Robot Repair. Oh." She smiled. "I get it. 'I'm a sleeper robot repair!'"

"Exactly. The virus didn't just reprogram you to make you obedient and compliant, it also made you call me, so I could come claim you." I ran my hand along the length of the leg she had pointed towards the ceiling, then reached down to finger her. She moaned happily. "You wear the same dress size as the maid, right?" I asked.

"Of course."

"Try one of the uniforms on for me."

She walked to the pile of clothes, bending to show me her rear. "I'll admit," she said, "it is a pretty big coincidence, but it doesn't prove anything," she said, sceptically.

"They really gave you one heck of a sleeper suite. Must have cost a bundle." I watched her strip out of the torn hose to try on the bodystocking that went with the uniform she had selected. "Only one way to definitely convince you. Maintain profile runtime, disable sleeper protocols."

She looked at me, a puzzled look on her face - but that soon broke into a wide, fulfilled smile. "Oh, hey! You're right! I am a robot. That explains why Maid opens my head to plug cartridges into me, and why she sometimes dismantles me for repairs! I never noticed before." She blinked, uncertain. "My ownership data has been corrupted. I don't currently have an owner." She sounded worried.

"It's okay," I told her. "Just finish dressing and give me a blowjob."

"Of course," she said, pulling on the bodystocking. Over this, she wore what was presumably one of the "slutty" uniforms, which consisted of an apron. She practically threw herself in front of me to suck my cock.

The maid returned with the suitcase, then stood patiently at attention, her gaze drawn to her former mistress as she plunged my penis down her throat. A pleasant smile crossed her face. "Is there any other way I can serve you, master?" She asked.

"Who made you?" I inquired. I had my suspicions from the moment I had tagged her in the shopping market, perusing fruits and vegetables, but never checking ripeness. She didn't buy anything. It was probably part of the lure, to start conversations and introduce people to her "mistress." All to sell consumer products that both of them had now completely forgotten even existed.

"I am a GySys Touchstone series..."

"Oh-kay!" I said, my eyes wide, "Yeah, I don't need to hear anything else." No wonder I had been able to infect her so quickly. "You're way too vulnerable to hackers far less skilled than me," I said, "Pack-oh, yeah right there, use your tongue there... pack the uniforms into the suitcase, then purge all memory records since date of first activation and shut yourself down."

The maid nodded, cheerfully. "Yes, master," she said, turning to load clothes into the suitcase.

The blonde increased her tempo, putting her tongue to more extensive use. "Hooooookay, yeah, much better than the maid," I told her. "Alriiiiight... wow does your mouth vibrate like that even when you'rrrrhhhha-sleeping?"

"Yes," she answered, her voice coming directly from her sound system, bypassing her mouth, "but I'm not aware of it when it does."

"That's fine I-hhhhhaaa! Yes! Yes, yes, yesyesyes AAAAAAHHHH!" Lights and spots danced before my eyes. I probably should have been seated for the last blowjob.

I swayed, woozy, and pushed her head away from my penis. She smacked her lips. "You taste delicious!" She said, "and it feels like I just had an orgasm in my throat!" She twitched, a burst of digital noise coming from her mouth. "In my throat," she repeated, twitching again. The burst of noise was longer this time.

I hadn't been initially sure whether the ownership overwrite really needed to be protected by an event-sequence password, but finally decided that, whether it was necessary or not, it was damn good fun, and ensured that my rightfully stolen bot could never be stolen back. The only trouble was remembering the right order to fuck them in, and maintaining my stamina long enough to do it.

The maid had finished packing while I was blowing my load, and now stood staring blankly. "Memories purged. Shutting down. GySys thanks you for using meeeeerrrrrrrrwwww..." The shutdown cut off the message, and her body froze in a standing pose, much like the the pose from when I arrived.

The garbled noise coming from the blonde's mouth stopped. "In my throa...." she repeated again, then looked up at me with an adoring smile. "Hello owner. My name is Jenn. I am an HRT2500 series ARA. I am currently running my main personality profile with sleeper protocols and perceptual filters disabled." She looked ahead in sudden realization. "I have an owner. I have an owner!" She threw her arms around me, nuzzling her face against my crotch in affection. "Thank you so much for reprogramming me, owner!" She said. "I'm so glad you hijacked my mind and stole me!" She looked up at me again with puppy-dog eyes. "What should I call you, owner?"

"Oh, I've got a whole list of things you can call me," I said, smiling, "but for now, call me Master Derek."

[Gorgo]

LOL! People can be SO messy at times . . .!

[WilloWisp]

You wouldn't believe the things people just leave lying around.

[Gorgo]

True, True . . .

[A.N.N.]

ha ha ha! very nice short!

[33cl33]

Lovely episode! Enjoying the whole saga as well - but these little tidbits are a nice contrast to the longer form narrative.