Virus Alert, Loose Threads 002: Food for Thought

[WilloWisp]

Miss me?

So, while I've been gradually chipping away at the main Virus Alert series proper, I've obviously let things stagnate a bit here in terms of keeping the embers glowing. If I let things go for too long without activity, interest drops, and those who have anxiously awaited a new installment become irate. Arguments, name-calling, and hurt feelings could abound. I want to fan the flames of interest, not flame my interested fans.

To that end, here's one we prepared earlier. Now, I know, this probably seems like a stalling tactic, but let me assure everybody: It totally is a stalling tactic. No question about it. Making and Taking Revenge, while not far from completion, still isn't fully fit for human consumption (or synthetic consciousness processing), and we've already passed the 1-year anniversary of Virus Alert as a series. So this is me, throwing you a freaking bone, Dr. Evil.

Never fear, the show must (and will) go on, but in the meantime, here's a little tidbit from a non-specific point in Virus Alert history.

Note to those who hunt for such things: No Easter eggs here, sorry. Also, although this little ministory is officially canon relative to the rest of the Virus Alert universe proper, it is unlikely to have any plot-relevant bearing on the series as a whole - that's the general nature of the Loose Threads.

Anyway, curtain up, lights down, and everybody find your seats.

----

"You're fucking kidding me, right?" I said, raising an eyebrow in suspicion. "And you're saying no one notices this?"

"I noticed," he replied, a manic grin on his face.

I brushed my bangs out of my face. "You're already kind of on the outside, you know," I told him. "Being the only guy here and all. You're sure this isn't just some fantasy you've concocted as an extension of that outcast feeling?"

He chuckled. He really found this amusing. "I'm sure. Very sure."

"So how many of them?" I said, skeptically. "A few? Several? Ten, twenty?"

"I'd say the overwhelming majority," he replied.

"Robots? What makes you think that?" I asked.

"I've already been putting it to the test." He leaned forward with his hand on his chin. "As robots, they're obedient by nature. As sleepers, they just accept everything as normal."

"Maxwell, as your girlfriend, I've got to say, I'm a little worried about your state of mind." I glanced around the lunchroom. Despite the relative bustle of activity around us, none of our coworkers seemed to have noticed him saying these things. I narrowed my eyes. "What exactly do you mean by 'test?'" I asked. "I hope you haven't been doing anything indecent."

"I promise I haven't done anything you'd object to. Don't worry, Val," he said, reassuringly, "I don't want you to be jealous or anything."

It was silly of course. Maxwell was a great boyfriend. The time I spent with him was so wonderful, I often lost track of how long we'd been together. It almost seemed like forever. I knew he wouldn't do anything to damage our relationship. "Alright," I said, "I'll accept that. Sorry, I shouldn't just accuse you like that." I furrowed my brow. "But it still doesn't answer the question: What kind of tests?"

"Oh," he said, a look of mischief in his eyes, "this and that. It would be easier to just show you."

I studied his expression. Though playful, it didn't look like he was joking - or crazy. "Okay, let me just make sure I've got this clear: You're saying that the overwhelming majority of our coworkers are robots?"

"Mm-hmm," he nodded.

"Any in this room?" I asked.

"A few." His grin had returned, wider than ever.

"Prove it," I said, folding my arms.

"I thought you'd never ask." He turned in his seat. "Let's see," he said, scanning the room. "Bridget, I think."

"Bridget? From accounting? Max, I've known her for years."

Two tables over sat Bridget, a perky brunette, was a close friend of mine. Though she was competent enough at accounting, she was a bit of an airhead at times. It wouldn't surprise me in the slightest if Max had mistaken her ditziness for robotic obedience. "Alright, let's see it then. Tell her to do something she wouldn't normally do."

"I'd be happy to," he said, rising. "C'mon." He took my hand, leading me to Bridget's table.

"Hi Bridget," he said as we reached her. "Mind if we join you for lunch?"

"Hey, Max! Hi Val!" She looked overjoyed to see us. "Sure, sit wherever you like."

"Thanks Bridget," he said, taking a seat next to her. He patted the tabletop just in front of himself, indicating that I sit at the edge of the table. I hopped up on the edge. He always had me sit close to him like that. It was sweet.

"Say," he said, turning back to Bridget, "that's a great blouse."

"You like it?" she said, brushing her hands down the silky fabric. "It's one of my favorites, too."

"It looks good on you," he affirmed, gently stroking the material. "Don't you think so, Val?"

I nodded. "It really does look great on you, Bridget." I leaned in, conspiratorially whispering, "Very sexy."

"Well, thank you!" She said, beaming. "I've always enjoyed silky fabrics like this one, and I..."

"Take it off," Max said.

"Okay," Bridget replied. Her hands immediately moved to begin unbuttoning the garment.

"Don't bother with the buttons," he told her. "Just rip it open."

"Sure, no problem," she said. Gripping the collar of the blouse, she tore it open in one swift motion. I heard a sound of fabric tearing, and saw a few of the buttons pop off and fly through the air, landing on a neighboring table. I glanced around. No one seemed to have noticed.

Beneath the now ruined shirt, Bridget wore a simple sheer bra. It did little to support her breasts, as I could tell from the amount they jiggled while she struggled to pull off the shirt completely. It did even less to conceal them, and I could see just how stiff her nipples were becoming. Finally free of the shirt, she wadded it carelessly up and dropped it on the floor.

"Bridget, why are you wearing a bra?" Max asked, a look of curiosity on his face.

She put a hand to her chest. "This?" she said, somewhat confused. "I just like the way it feels on my skin," she replied, running her fingers over her stiff nipples. "Besides, I always wear a..."

"Stop wearing bras, unless I tell you otherwise," Maxwell interjected.

Smiling, she nodded and unhooked the front clasp. "Of course," she replied, tossing the bra aside. Now topless, it was even more obvious how little the bra had been doing. Her round breasts barely dropped a millimeter, maintaining their shape unsupported. She leaned forward, putting a hand on my hand. "So how are you two doing?" she asked. "Still having sex in the coffee room?"

My eyes went wide. "I..." I stammered. I didn't know what to say.

"Now do you believe me?" Max's voice cut across my thoughts.

I was confused. "What do you mean?"

He gestured at the blouse and bra on the floor. "What I was saying earlier? About robots and obedience?"

Realization hit me. "What, that?" I said, almost laughing. "You got Bridget topless, therefore she's a robot?"

"Who's a robot now?" Bridget said, confused. Max shushed her.

"Maxwell, you've got to understand, this was an all-girl office until you got here," I said slowly. "We all know each other pretty well, and we don't have body issues." I gestured around me. "If we get a run in our pantyhose, we're not going to dash off to the bathroom to get changed." I patted his head adoringly. It was cute how naive he could be sometimes. "Some of the girls here just haven't quite gotten used to the fact that there's a guy around, and Bridget's..." I paused, then whispered behind my hand, "...a tad absent-minded."

"So this is normal?" He said, his eyebrow raised.

"Max, I've seen girls here finish out the workday in nothing more than their knickers, just because they spilled something on their dress." I smiled sympathetically at Bridget. "Sorry for the mixup, Bridg. Max just got a crazy idea in his head, and..."

"Bridget, stand up." She stood. "Take off your skirt." As she tugged the stretchy skirt down her long legs, he turned back to me. "What about now?"

"Max, I just told you, they're still not used to you being here..."

"So they're happy to strip down to their..." He glanced at Bridget to see what she was wearing, then did a double take. "Bridget, why are you wearing a thong over your pantyhose?"

"Hmm?" She said, absently glancing down. She hooked her thumb in the waistband of the thong, then letting it go with a snap. "This? It's crotchless." Her eyes went wide, suddenly embarrassed. "I mean the pantyhose are crotchless, not the thong!" she added hastily. "It wouldn't do much good to wear crotchless panties over regular pantyhose," she said, as though explaining to a child.

"Get rid of the thong," he said, a triumphant tone in his voice. "Put it in the trash."

"Sure thing," she said, having already removed the skimpy underwear before his second instruction. Her spike heels clicked loudly as she made her way to the nearest trash can, where she deposited the thong before turning back to return to our table.

"See?" he said, insistently.

"Max, I've told you," I said, patiently, "we don't have body issues here. Bridget just hasn't put two and two together about the fact that you're a guy, and she's a practically naked girl."

"Hey, have you two seen my new apartment yet?" Bridget said as reached the table. "It has the biggest bed I've ever seen. Like, it could fit six people." She put a finger to her chin. "Maybe more, if they were all pressed together." She shook her head, making her breasts bounce slightly. "Anyway, it is so comfortable, and the sheets are so soft. You just have to try it out."

"Bridget, lie down on the table," Max instructed just as she was about to sit back down.

"Okay," she replied. Not even pausing as she redirected her movement, she hopped up on the table next to me, then scooted her pantyhosed butt across the table to lie down beside me. "I can guarantee you, my bed is way softer than this."

"Legs straight, arms at your sides, Bridget. Look directly at the ceiling."

"Alright," she said simply, adopting the ramrod-straight position without question. "Hey, I have an idea," she said, only her face animated. "Why don't you two come over after work? You can try out the bed, see how comfortable it is, you know, whatever. I could give you some privacy, if you wanted."

"Stop talking, Bridget," Max said.

Still smiling pleasantly, Bridget closed her mouth without further comment.

"Normal?" Max asked, indicating her inert form.

"You do know that the company provides free yoga training for employees, don't you?" I said, one eyebrow raised. "This is no different than some of her relaxation exercises."

"Val," he said slowly, "She's completely motionless. She's not moving a muscle."

"That's not true," I said. "She's still blinking and breathing, see?"

He sighed, but there was still a look of amusement on his face. "Bridget, stop blinking and breathing. Do not move in any way until I tell you to." Her body became completely still. Max leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. He looked up at me, a 'well?' look on his face.

"Now you're just being silly, Max," I said. "Yo-ga-train-ing," I said, slowly, making air quotes with my fingers. "Noted for improving muscular discipline, focus, and lung capacity, you know?" I gestured at her. "You may as well have just asked her to rub her neck or wiggle her toes. When you spend twenty to thirty minutes a day rigidly holding a downward-facing dog pose, or a big toe pose, lying motionless on a table is pretty easy."

He stood, walking around behind the table to look at her reclining form. Running a hand up her thigh, he looked back at me. "No response when I touch her like this," he said.

"For pity's sake Max, it's just her leg, and she's in a relaxed state. She probably wouldn't notice if you fingered her."

His hand drifted to her smooth pussy, first stroking across her delicate skin there, then slipping a finger inside her folds. "She's wet," he commented.

"She's lying, pretty much nude, in a relaxed state, and you've just been rubbing her pussy." I blew out a sigh. "I mean, honestly, I'm just watching it, and I'm wet." I cleared my throat. "And like I said, she's too relaxed to notice."

"You don't think she'll mind?" He asked, smirking.

"Bridget? Please, she's too ditzy to get upset over stuff like that. Besides, I have a feeling she's kind of sweet on you."

"You don't mind?"

"Maxwell, you're still convinced she's a machine and that you're proving it to me."

"Oh, I know she's a machine. I'm absolutely certain of it," he said, insistently.

"And I'm still wondering what makes you think that. And please, don't just point at her doing things like this, I've already explained..."

"Val, how long have we been dating?" He asked.

"I don't know. You know I kind of lose track of time around you." I said, fluttering my eyes.

"How long have I worked here?"

I laughed. "You've been with the company long enough to get promoted to senior manager of this division, but you only transferred here a few months ago."

"I don't work here," he told me.

"Maxwell, this is ridiculous..."

"I don't. I'm a paying guest here."

I gaped. "Who would pay to work? That's crazy, Max, and you know it."

"I don't work. I play. Do I spend much time in my office?"

"You're the manager. You get more done around the building than in a single office."

"And when I'm in my office, what do I do?"

I blushed. "Me, mostly."

"Val, I know she's a robot because this is an office-themed robot resort hotel. A pleasure hotel which caters to my every sexual whim with an office fantasy filled with beautiful, sexy, obedient women."

"Well, there you go," I said. "If that were true, it would make me a robot, too." I crossed my arms and nodded triumphantly. "Check and mate, I believe, Maxwell."

"Val, why aren't you wearing a top?" he asked.

"I spilled coffee on it earlier, remember?"

"Why aren't you wearing a skirt?" he asked.

"We couldn't find it after you fucked me in the copy room."

"Why do you have my cum on your tits?"

"You still haven't given me a chance to eat my lunch. We've been having this silly conversation the whole time." I huffed.

"And all that, all of it is normal?" he asked.

"No," I said, impatiently, "it would be normal for us to sit down to a nice lunch, then get on with our workday without some bizarre fantasy about sexbots and make-believe offices. Now, can I please lick my boobs clean so that we can take care of that two o'clock blowjob you said I could give you?" I pouted. "Please?"

He sat back in his chair, a weird smile on his face, and slowly shook his head. "Absolutely amazing," he said. "Totally oblivious." An idea seemed to occur to him, and he sprang to his feet. "Wait, one more thing," he said. He walked up to the other end of the table, near Bridget's head. Grasping it firmly with both hands, he twisted her neck sharply to one side, then pulled the head off the motionless body. "There," he said, holding up the still-smiling head. "What do you think about that?"

I looked back and forth between the headless body and the head in his hands. "I think Bridget would be pretty pissed if she saw what you did to her model."

He blinked, confused. "Model?" He looked at the base of the detached head. "She's the same model as you."

"No," I insisted, "I work in accounting, she works in garment design, remember? Look, she's very attached to that thing, she uses it to model all her fashion designs, so please put it back together before she finds out you took it apart."

He stared blankly at me, then started laughing quietly. It built up louder and louder until he was wheezing for breath. "So let me... let me guess..." he said, gasping, "This company makes lingerie now, right?"

"Why else would Bridget's model be wearing crotchless pantyhose? And where do you think I got these stockings, from a department store?" I snapped one of the garters. "The only way I can afford this kind of thing is with my employee discount."

"What if I told you it was okay for me to dismantle Bridget's model?" he asked.

"Oh," I said, mellowing. I don't know why I had assumed there would be anything wrong about it. "Oh, I'm so sorry dear! I shouldn't have snapped at you like that." I shifted on one foot. "Can I make it up to you?" I asked. "I'll do anything, you know."

He sighed, smiling contentedly. He reached down and connected the mannequin's head to its body, twisting it back into place. "Get up, Bridget," he told her. My friend stood up. I briefly wondered where the mannequin had gone, but it wasn't important enough to worry about.

"Bridget, I think I'd like to take you up on your offer to check out your apartment," he said, coming back around the table to stand in front of me. He nudged my knees, indicating that I should spread them apart to straddle him. I wrapped my legs around him, crossing my stiletto'ed heels behind his legs. "In fact, I think we should make it a real get-together," he continued, squeezing my tits together and bringing them up closer to my mouth. Eagerly, I lapped the jism off them, luxuriating in the flavor and texture. "Why don't you invite a few of your friends over. We'll make a costume-slash-slumber party out of it, what do you say?"

"Sure thing," Bridget said, cheerily. "After work I'll just start..."

"It's the end of the workday," Max said. I chuckled inwardly at the fact that he actually had to tell Bridget this. Everyone knew the workday ended just after lunch. She must not have been thinking clearly.

"Oh, duh, I forgot." She giggled. "I'll just call some of my friends over. What do you think, four or five?"

"You said your bed could hold more than six?" he asked.

"Yeah, something like that?"

"Well, there's me, then you and Val makes three... Invite over another nine girls. We'll see if we can make it an even dozen."

Not a clue, but a joke: ScenariCorp gives its guests going-away mementos, using a color-item combination scheme denoting the season (Gold for summer, bronze for autumn, steel for winter, silver for spring) and location (theme-specific objects, such as a crown for Kingdom of Insert Guest's Name Here, top hat for Bartleby Estate Manor House, etc) of the guest's visit. Maxwell's visit to Bossman Incorporated (which uses a hammer to represent the industry theme) occurred in April of that year. Bang bang.

[A.N.N.]

LOL! That was a fun tease. Thanks for the "bone" Willo!

Good to see your work again, even if it's just a loose thread.

[liliwinnt6]

Long time no see, Willo!

[Magoo]

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