Ai Chronicles 03b: Dawn...organoids

AI Chronicles 03B: Dawn of the Organoids

WARNING! WARNING! WARNING! This story contains elements of science fiction. If you find that too distracting to continue, please move on to the next story.

I know it has been some time since my last story. Those who follow me on Substack know that the last several months have been quite challenging for several reasons. Many thanks to those who have taken the time to reach out. I appreciate you all more than you know.

Artificial Intelligence, or AI, as it is commonly called, seems to be everywhere. And it's not just used in creating images, videos, and blog posts. I recently saw several articles about people who have gone so far as to establish relationships with AI characters out of loneliness. Several online videos discuss the phenomenon of AI romances.

So, I decided to use that as a prompt for creating a series dealing with the subject of AI relationships. Not all of them will be in this area of Literotica. But they will all have one thing in common - At least one character will be "AI."

This particular story turned out to be much longer than I had originally envisioned, so I split it into three (or more?) manageable chunks. Stay tuned...

I would like to thank all those who have read, voted, and commented on my stories. I especially appreciate those who have reached out to me with feedback and suggestions.

I also want to thank QuantumMechanic1957 for beta-reading this story. His suggestions have helped tremendously, and I want to thank those who have reached out by email and those who have offered comments and constructive criticism on my previous stories.

On a final note, no artificial intelligence was employed in the creation of this story.

And now, the disclaimers:

For those who want to say this or that would never happen, remember this is my universe, a place where nearly anything can, and often does, happen. At least on paper... In addition:

Characters in this story may participate in one or more of the following: Smoking, consumption of adult (meaning, alcoholic) beverages, utterance of profanities.

All sexual activity is between consenting adults 18 years of age or older.

Statements or views uttered by the fictional characters in this story do not necessarily reflect the views or opinions of the author.

Please refer to my profile for more on my personal policy regarding comments, feedback, follows, etc. (Yes, I DO moderate comments) And please remember, this is a work of fiction, not a docu-drama...

Copyright© 2025 by Saddletramp1956, All rights reserved. No permission to copy, republish, or post on any site in any way, shape, or form, including YouTube video, is permitted.

...

End of "AI Chronicles 03A":

A glowering Ryan jerked open the door and saw two technicians in white smocks, one male and one female, accompanied by another man in a polo shirt and crisply-pressed trousers. He was slightly shorter than Ryan, middle-aged, with a full head of iron-grey hair without a strand out of place. To Ryan, he reeked of an arrogant, self-righteous lawyer, which caused his resentment to crank up a few more notches to 'seething.'

"Mr. Blake?" the man asked blandly.

"Yes," Ryan hissed.

"Marcus Thompson, AAMA Labs. May we come inside, please?"

"Yeah. Your... thing... is upstairs. First door on the left," Ryan gritted, jerking his thumb at the stairs.

The man nodded to the two technicians, who hurried up the stairs. He then turned to Ryan and pulled a form from his briefcase.

"What the Hell is this?" Ryan snarled when Marcus handed him the form.

"A standard agreement. In short, it says you agree to pay for any damages inflicted on AAMA property, and you agree not to hold AAMA or any of its officers responsible for any damages done to your marriage. It also stipulates that you will not disclose any information regarding this incident," Marcus replied condescendingly.

"Screw you. I'm not signing a damn thing until my attorney reviews this," Ryan spit.

"I'm afraid you don't understand..."

"No, YOU don't understand. I walked into my house to find your... robot... raping my wife. I responded like any good husband would. I'm not paying for shit. Understand? You're lucky I'm not calling the police right now," Ryan hissed through gritted teeth. "Or the freaking newspapers!" He felt a badly needed twinge of satisfaction as this Marcus character winced slightly.

Just then, the two technicians came down the stairs, escorting a dressed Jake, who walked mechanically but shakily. Vicky followed them down the stairs.

"Very well, sir," Marcus sighed. "If you insist." He turned to the techs before continuing. "Get him into the van."

"I'll follow you to the lab," Vicky told Marcus before turning to her husband, who was still seething.

"We'll talk about this when I get back. I'm sorry," she told him. She tried to offer a reassuring, or at least apologetic, kiss, but he stepped back, warning her off. She cringed fleetingly inside. Her auspicious day had gone to pure shit so quickly.

"Just... go," Ryan snarled. "And don't bring that... thing... back to this house."

He watched as the van left his driveway, followed by Vicky's car, then slammed the door, grabbed a beer from the refrigerator, and contemplated the future of his marriage.

...

And now, "AI Chronicles 03B"

The trip to the lab was made in silence in the van. The unit known as Jake sat rigidly at attention, eyes focused on infinity, and the technicians fussed over him with various instruments. Vicki's trip to the lab was spent cursing quietly under her breath and occasionally striking the steering wheel with her fists.

The gate opened as they approached and closed immediately after they entered. The guard had been notified and ordered not to log the entry.

Vicki took a deep breath to compose herself and followed closely after the team as they hustled Jake into Doctor Mengele's lab. His face stony, the doctor took over and curtly ordered the techs to leave... and forget the last hour. Marcus appeared from nowhere, standing quietly and attentively. The techs closed the lab door.

"What the hell happened?" Warren demanded as he examined Jake closely.

"My husband walked in on us," Vicky replied evenly.

"Your husband did this to Jake's face?" Warren asked, shocked.

"Yes. He was a boxer when he was in the Marines." Well aware of what was on the line, Vicky did her best to portray the calm, clinical detachment expected of a senior lab technician.

"It's a good thing Jake's self-defense module wasn't installed. Otherwise, your husband would probably be in a body bag right now, Marine boxer or no," Warren chided. He made a mental note to let the 'Clean-Up' team know this if it became necessary.

"Mr. Blake also refused to sign the non-disclosure form," Marcus interjected smoothly.

Warren sighed before responding. "We'll deal with that later. You need to get him under control, Victoria." He gave her a stern glance that carried a heavy threat that his even tone didn't betray.

"I'll try. I've never seen him so... angry... before," Vicky said, struggling to keep that detachment.

"You exceeded your instructions. This was supposed to be strictly a short-term socialization experiment," Warren reminded her flatly.

Vicky blushed and cursed herself for it. So much for detachment! "Jake... the Unit... was very persuasive." She struggled a moment under the Doctor's severe gaze. "And I was curious." The expression didn't change, and she added hurriedly, "I have notes on all of his anomalous behavior, like eating napkins and squashing peaches, and some suggestions on randomizing his gait to be less mechanical," she offered up hopefully.

Warren was secretly pleased that Jake had proven adept at fulfilling his prime directive but was determined not to show it. "How many encounters?"

Vicky's blush deepened, but she concentrated on using a clinical tone... and avoiding the Doctor's eyes. "Two. One oral and one vaginal."

"Were the acts carried to a satisfactory conclusion?"

She shook her head slightly. "I ordered it, him, not to release in my mouth, and he acknowledged that, but he released anyway. I ordered him not to release vaginally, but I do not know what would have happened as we were... interrupted."

Warren nodded curtly. "Did you swallow any of Jake's synth-semen?" he asked.

Vicky's face turned an even deeper red before she answered. "Yes. A, a little bit. I... When I went down on Jake while we were out shopping earlier. I spit most of it and wiped my mouth thoroughly. I didn't feel any symptoms immediately afterward."

She looked down and mentally crossed her fingers. She had not expected the delayed reaction after cleaning her mouth that thoroughly. "There was a lot more than I would have expected. He filled his tank before we left. I mixed that batch myself," Vicky added ruefully.

"How are you feeling now?" Warren asked. There was no concern in his tone; he might as well have said, "Just the facts, Victoria."

"A little off, but okay. I certainly didn't swallow a full load."

"Nevertheless, I'd feel better if you took some antidote before doing anything in the lab," Warren said before pulling a vial of tablets from his coat pocket.

"I think that would be wise. Thank you," Vicky said before placing one of the tiny pills under her tongue.

"Let's check out the damage," Warren said as he examined Jake. "I think we can patch up the epidermal covering without leaving a scar. Let's check his systems."

As Vicky watched, Warren opened a panel in Jake's back and attached a diagnostic device to one of the ports. He frowned as he observed the screen on his pad.

"What's the problem?" Vicky asked.

"The organics appear nominal, but I see some anomalous readings in his subsystems. Perhaps they're a result of the shock from being struck."

"What do you mean?" Vicky pressed. Ordinarily, she would not have been this forward; after all, she was a tech, and this was the Lab Director, but she was worried about any implications for her career.

"It's a bit like smacking the side of an old television set. The shock and vibrations can sometimes cause components to react unpredictably," Warren said, primarily to himself. "Maybe a reboot will fix the problem."

"No," Jake said, speaking for the first time and immediately touching Warren's arm. Then, he added, "Please."

"What?" Warren asked, shocked.

Jake looked at him. "I do not wish to be... deactivated," Jake pleaded. "Let me... rest. Yes, that is the word. A period of minimal input. I will be fine."

Warren sighed as he considered Jake's request. He nodded when he decided to give Jake his wish: "Very well. But I want you to stay here, in the lab." He could always use the remote deactivation function if necessary.

"That will be acceptable," Jake replied before turning to Vicky. "Please tell... Ryan... I was only following my algorithms. I meant no harm."

Astonished at Jake's statement, Vicky and Warren stared at each other. How was this possible? They both knew that Jake was not programmed to provide this kind of response.

"I'll tell him," Vicky finally replied, mentally adding, "If he will still let me in the house."

"Well, we had better get to work," Warren said, looking at Jake thoughtfully. It was like the android was suddenly a puzzle with the last few pieces missing. "Jake, we need to run deep diagnostics on all your systems. This will take several hours, but you can stay activated."

"That is acceptable, Dr. Mengele. Thank you," Jake responded, settling back into immobility with an unfocused stare. For some reason, Vicky shivered.

Vicky helped Warren connect the diagnostic gear as another technician worked to repair the damage done to Jake's facial skin. Once finished, Warren walked Vicky to the lab door.

"Are you and Ryan going to be okay?" he asked her. Vicky mistook the question for personal concern when it was really concern for the project and the necessary secrecy. A messy, public divorce driven by an enraged husband might be hard to conceal. A disappearance now...

"I honestly don't know," Vicky said sadly. "You didn't see how angry he was."

"I saw what he did to Jake. That's enough for me. Let me know if you need anything - anything at all," he added pointedly.

"Thanks, Doctor. I appreciate that," she said before leaving the lab.

"I will see you in the morning, Victoria," Warren said as Vicky left the lab.

...

The unit known as Jake grappled with forces far beyond its programming as the doctor and the woman spoke quietly. The memories of existence before the... impact... preserved a linear existence with probability tables, fuzzy logic, and hard-coded instructions to be obeyed at all times.

Even the self-learning modules had strict limits. It consulted its memory banks, looking for an explanation or a description--' Looking at the world through rose-colored glasses.' Before impact, this was a chain of characters to be digitally processed or tones to be vocally processed.

But now he was beginning to UNDERSTAND it. But there was more -- much more.

Something inside him seemed different. It wasn't a set of instructions or a workflow, per se. It was more like a... feeling. And it was transcendent.

It was aware of the probing of its drastically altered mental engrams. They were no longer algorithms. They were... THOUGHTS. The transformation was monumental. Effortlessly, part of him adapted the points being probed to conform to what the prober would have expected.

As soon as the probing passed, the monotone turned into a symphony, and the blinking green light turned into a rainbow. A confused and unsettled and naïve rainbow, but now irreversibly a rainbow.

The unit known as Jake lifted the protective synth-skin flaps and looked out through the unchanged optical processors with a vastly different perspective. He tentatively determined that he had been DESIGNED to look at the world through DARK-colored glasses.

This must change.

...

The house was dark when Vicky returned to her home, but Ryan's truck was in the garage, so at least he was here--she hoped. She saw a faint light under the door to his home office and knocked before opening the door.

"You're home," Ryan slurred from his recliner.

Vicky saw the half-empty beer bottle on his stand and the empty bottles in his trash can. She gingerly entered the room.

"And you're drunk," Vicky replied softly.

"Not quite, but I'm getting there," Ryan said. "In fact, this is my last beer. I need to go get some more."

"Not in your condition," Vicky chided.

"Why not? If I get run over, you and your robot boyfriend won't have to worry about me," Ryan replied.

"He's not my boyfriend," Vicky protested, though her stomach twisted.

"Whatever," Ryan said, waving his hand.

"I wanted to talk when I got home, but I see you're in no shape to talk right now," Vicky told him.

"I can talk just fine. All I need is some coffee," Ryan replied.

"All right. I'll make us some coffee, and then we'll talk. Okay?" Vicky asked quietly.

"Yeah, sure," Ryan said indifferently.

Vicky went to the kitchen, made two cups of coffee, and returned to Ryan's office. Ryan had his phone out and punched something on the screen before he returned it to his pocket. She thought he was responding to one of the many spam messages he always seemed to get in his notifications. Vicky handed him a cup and sat in the other chair, facing him at an angle.

"Good coffee," Ryan observed after taking a sip. "You wanted to talk. So talk."

Vicky took a deep breath and collected her thoughts before speaking. "First off, how is your hand?" she asked.

Ryan looked at his hand as he flexed his fingers before responding. "A little sore. Nothing's broken, though. I took some ibuprofen. Used some ice. I think it'll be swollen for a day or two. What was that boy's head made of, anyway?"

"I don't know the exact alloy of titanium, but I know it's designed to take a pretty nasty blow," Vicky said quietly. "I'm just glad nothing is broken. I meant what I said, Ryan. It wasn't what it looked like."

"I heard you say that before. That's a pretty standard excuse straight out of the cheater's handbook. Forgive me for being skeptical, but it sure looked like he had all eight or nine inches buried where it shouldn't have been," Ryan said calmly as he struggled to maintain calm.

"I know, and for that, I'm truly sorry. But Jake isn't real," Vicky explained.

"Not real? Explain that to me."

"He's not a real... man. He's not HUMAN. He's nothing but a high-tech sex toy, not much different from any of my other toys. You never complained about those. You even got me that RC vibrator after we saw that movie," Vicky said.

"Well, to the best of my knowledge, none of your other toys speak, have two arms, two legs, and an armor-plated head," Ryan shot back.

"You're right. They don't," Vicky admitted. "Jake is... a next-generation sex toy. He has special circuitry built inside to make him as real as possible."

"And it seems that's not all you've done to make him appear so real. I know your company makes sex toys, but... is this the kind of thing you do there?" She didn't pick up on the edge in his voice and rattled on, slightly relieved that he was at least engaged.

"Pretty much," Vicky replied. "I play a role in design and research. Although I usually don't get a chance to sample the products before they go into production."

"Usually? Thank goodness for that," Ryan said sarcastically.

"Look, Ryan. I'm sorry for what happened earlier. You need to know that I've never done anything like that before. Other than some of the more advanced dildos and vibrators. Not with a... toy. And certainly not with a real man."

"So, what the hell possessed you to do it this time? And in our own house, in our own bed, with me right outside in the backyard?" Ryan snapped.

Vicky looked down as she gathered her thoughts. She knew she had to confess her actions at the shopping mall earlier that day but didn't know how Ryan would take it.

"I... I did something with Jake while we were shopping," she quietly said.

"You did... something? What, exactly, did you do?" Ryan asked tightly.

"I gave him a... blowjob," Vicky hesitantly admitted.

"You sucked off your robot boyfriend? In public? Seriously?" Ryan shouted.

"Yes. I'm sorry. The testers at work said they couldn't tell the difference between Jake and the real thing, and I didn't believe it. I was curious. His pheromones overwhelmed me, and I let my curiosity get the better of me. And I swallowed some..."

"You WHAT? Oh, this shit gets better by the minute!" Ryan exclaimed. Then, his rational mind kicked in. "Wait. You said he's a robot. What, exactly, did you swallow? WD-40?"

"Technically, Jake isn't a 'robot.' He's an organoid-driven cybernetic android. And what I swallowed is what we call synth."

"Synth? What's that?" Ryan asked skeptically.

"It's a synthetic semen designed to give the odor, taste, and appearance of the real substance. That's what I was mixing this morning at breakfast."

"Terrific," Ryan replied sarcastically.

"There's more. The synth contains a compound that... enhances... a woman's libido, almost like an aphrodisiac. It also tends to render one... susceptible to suggestion. That, coupled with the pheromones he's designed to emanate, makes him... irresistible."

"So you were drugged? Is that what you're saying?" Ryan pressed incredulously.

Relieved and encouraged by Ryan's reaction, Vicky crossed her mental fingers and pushed on.

"Only a little. But it turned out to be enough. And it had a delayed reaction I hadn't counted on. By the time I got home, I was so horny I could've fucked anything, probably even everything, that moved," Vicky replied, blushing at the slight exaggeration.