The Adventures of Robohooker (3 page)

For all his genius the Professor was mistaken in one thing however. Bill did take photographs and he did put them on
the internet. Taking photographs was a required procedure with a robotic malfunction but posting the evidence
was not, but it
got Bill a freebie from Fifi
for some reason
. Do a search if you wish to see the
pictures
.

“Do you not worry
that Robohookers will deprive human hookers of their income?” I asked Fifi the following day once I had been fully recharged.

“No, honey, our main competition has always come from gals that give it away for free. Common sluts, married women, that sort. No, you’re a premium product, at least right now, so you’re not going to threaten my livelihood none.”

“But I will be able to fuck immeasurably better than any human woman,” I insisted.

“Yeah, and there are good hookers and bad hookers, but the bad ones make a living too.”

“I do not understand. Do men not seek out a quality fuck when they are horny?”

“No, men seek out a fuck and the quality don’t come into it. They’d fuck a barber’s floor if it had a hole in it.”

It was a strange reference and one I had difficulty in understanding. Humans were proving to be more complex than my programming had implied.  I would have to devote more processing power to analysing their behaviour.

“The good thing is,” Fifi continued, “that now we’ve got Jim Frankenstone out of the way we can get down to whipping you into shape.”

“Whipping? Yes, I understand that some men enjoy this procedure.”

“No, honey, that’s not what I meant
. I’ll teach you about that stuff when we get to the advanced stuff. No, what I meant is that now your virginity has been taken by the Prof, we can allow guys to put their pecker inside you and adjust your vaginal responses so you’re not too wet or too tight when you’re fucking. Frankenstone has also insisted that you’re adjusted so your pussy stays open if you have a shut-down so a guy can withdraw his pecker
.”

“That is a sensible precaution. It must have been embarrassing for the Professor to be trapped within me.”

“I sure hope so.”

“So, I must go to the Engineering Section to be adjusted?”

“I have you booked in for 4.30. What I plan to do this morning is to take you to my place of work so you can have a look round and get a feel of the place.”

“Will it be where I am to work?”

“Some of the time, and certainly to start with, but you might have to spend some time on the streets too, just to see that side of the business.”

“Where is it you work, Fifi?” I asked.

“Madame Pandora’s
Pleasure
Palace
, finest brothel in town.”

“What you got to understand,” Fifi explained as she drove me to her place of employment, “is that Pandora’s is a classy establishment and employs only the highest quality hookers.”

“In what way are they of superior quality?” I enquired.

“Well, by all regards they’re better looking, they dress better, act more refined and generally give a more pleasurable sexual experience to a gentleman, which is why they are available only at a premium price.”

“And do you think I would be able to join this elite?”

“Not if the prices the Corporation have programmed you with are anything to go by. I think they see you as more of a mass-ma
rket hooker. A hundred and fifty for anal indeed! Why, the least of my girls wouldn’t give you a sniff of their ass for less than
1000
.”

“It is a popular procedure, this sniffing of the ass?”

“Only for Major G
rimble and the Reverend Carlyle,” Fifi grimaced, “but they do have specialised requirements. What I
mean is the Corporation
is pricing you low because they want to make lots of money. Giving you enough energy for 25 fucks a day, it’s outrageous.
A regular whore would end up with a broken back.
”

“But the profits are to go to charity, to retrain hookers as librarians’ assistants,” I contested my mentor.

“That’s all flim flam, they’ll never go into profit because they plow all the money back into research and development. That means they can write it off against tax.”

“I am not programmed for advanced financial transactions, only
on
how to give change if a customer offers a high denomination bill,” I admitted.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.  Basically it means that the
Corporation
is screwing you, having you screw 25 guys at 100 bucks a time rather than the one guy a day at a thousand bucks that my girls take. They’re exploiting you.”

The concept was beyond me, I was a mechanism, built to be used and if my creators derived profit from me it seemed only right. I decided to terminate the topic by asking Fifi if I was dressed suitably for a visit to a brothel.

“Your problem is, sweet cheeks, is that they’ve made you too good looking. I have to keep dressing you down to stop you making men come in their pants when they see you.
”

“But surely beauty is desirable.”

“Yeah, sure, but there’s a limit and you’re bordering on perfection.”

I pulled down the sun visor and inspected myself in the mirror on its reverse.  Fifi was right and I was indeed beautiful but this was down to the designers and artists who had created my looks. For clothing Fifi had put me in a trouser suit under which was a blouse, buttoned to the neck. Not an inch of me, below my neck was on display. She, herself, looked much more like a hooker, in a tight sweater which emphasised her chest and a short skirt which displayed her shapely legs magnificently.

She noticed me staring at her and said, “I’m not as pretty as you, I have to show off the goods.”

She was correct in her statement, but
she
had
once been more attractive and only age had weathered her. This would not occur with a Robohooker like myself, of course. I would remain as beautiful as the day I was manufactured
if I was properly maintained, and able to provide profit for the Corporation as long as I had my 10,000 man service and my lubricant tanks were kept topped up.

“What is the programme for my visit to Madame Pandora’s?” I asked.

“Well, first off I think it would be best if you met some of the girls
to
see what a real hooker is like.”

“But you are a real hooker and I know what you are like.”

“Hook
ers come in all shapes and sizes
, Andi, so I want to give you a variety of personalities to base yourself on. Hopefully you’ll pick the best elements of the best girls and prove to be outstanding in your field.”

“I had imagined I was to be an urban hooker, and not a rural one.”

Fifi looked at me strangely and then said, “No, no, what I meant was …”

“I was making a joke, Fifi, I have been programmed with a sense of humor, though it is taking me time to encompass its nuances.”

“Oh, I didn’t know they could do that.”

“The programmers
of the International Robotics
Corporation are the finest in the business,” I found myself saying totally involuntarily, no doubt a sub-routine placed in my neural banks by those very programmers so they could boast of their talents. It was effective, but not very subtle.

The first real hooker I met in the palatial residence known as Pandora’s Palace, was Fluffy Furball, so named because she had never shaved her pubic region and was extremely hairy in that region.  Hirsuteness in that area was not currently fashionable and so Fluffy was popular with older men who hankered over the ‘good old days’.

She was a short woman with red hair and a wide smile
who stared at me endlessly once I’d been introduced to her.

“Goddam, an android woman, what will they think of next. And she looks real too. Does she talk, Fifi?”

“I am capable of speech,” I answered.

“Holy shit! I had a client once had one of them maids in his house but she couldn’t say no more than ‘Yes, sir’ and ‘I will obey’.

“Maids lack higher cognitive functions,” I explained, “because they have no need for them. I, however, am expected to interact with humans on a more intimate basis.”

Fifi frowned and took me aside. “They don’t know you’re a Robohooker, honey, and I don’t think it’s time you should tell them.”

“But you said there was no resentment against Robohookers from the human variety.”

“That’s just me, because I have a deal with the Corporation, but the rest of the girls … well, just don’t tell them yet. Let them get used to you.”

I agreed that this was a sound strategy, and asked, “Will I be meeting Madame Pandora?”

“Unlikely, seeing as the original’s been dead over a hundred years. Nowadays it’s just an honorary title and as senior girl I suppose I’m her.”

“So, you have a dual personality?”

“Multiple, kid, I’m a hooker and we’re all actresses and have to play the parts our clients require.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, one man’s fantasy might be to have me as a young girl, enjoying her first experience of love. Admittedly I’m not asked to play that role much these days, but it happens now and then. Another guy might want to nail me as his aunt, a
more mature and experienced woman. I get a lot of that.”

“Role play. I am programmed for that.”

“It’s not as structured as role play and nobody come
s
flat out and says he wants you to play a babysitter, you have to learn their requirements by reading signals.”

“It is confusing. I believed that the primary function of a Robohooker was to lie on my back and allow myself to be fucked.”

“That’s because you were built by men, who know nothing.”

“The programmers
of the International Robotics
Corporation are the finest in the business,” I found myself saying totally involuntarily again.

“God, they’ve got you by the girdle, girl, spouting that rubbish.”

“Perhaps you should not have informed your colleagues of my true nature.”

“Wouldn’t work, honey, you look just fine, but you talk robot.”

“I have been told that I wil
l become more natural with time,
”
I informed her.

“No rush, I doubt if anybody’s going to want you for your conversational abilities.”

I agreed and said, “Let us proceed and meet more of your real hookers.”

The next one we came across was
a plump blonde,
Mandy Mouthful
,
whose nom de guerre came from her penchant for
using exaggerated
language during congress.

“Turns them
on
no end, babe,” she said as she shook my hand.

“What is your most popular phrase?” I asked.

“Take it out, it’s too big!” she replied immediately with a smile. “They love that shit.” This accorded with my programming which informed me that men liked to imagine they had huge and impressive manly parts.

“But what if the man does actually have a large penis?” I asked.

“Well, then, I just enjoy it,” she admitted with a blush.

“A true slut!” Fifi said proudly.

“Well, we sure need a maid round here to clean up after us,” Mandy said.

Fifi and I looked at each other meaningfully and I deferred to my mentor in confessing my true purpose.

“She’s not here to clean,” Fifi whispered, “She’s going to be a Robohooker.”

I braced myself for the expected abuse but it never came.

“Won’t work,” Mandy sniffed, “Men want a real, live, woman, not electronic pussy.”

“The
I.R.C.
have invested half a billion dollars to prove you wrong.”

“Their money, but I think they’re throwing it away. Who wants to fuck a machine?”

“Look at her?” Fifi screeched on my behalf. “She’s beautiful, and if she didn’t open her mouth nobody would even know she wasn’t human.”

An element of doubt seemed to flit over Mandy’s eyes. “Nah, she doesn’t know how to fuck good.”

“Neither did you when you were sixteen,” Fifi commented.

“Fifteen,” Mandy corrected.

“But you still learned through intense study of the hookering profession and Andi can too.”

Mandy looked unconvinced.

“I can vary how tight my pussy is and also how wet. I do not choke with deep throat and my anus is antiseptically clean,” I said, remembering what Fifi had told me. “I believe these will be valuable attributes in making me attractive to men.”