Paul shined his palm light around the dark space, playing the weak beam over a mess of steel and musty plastic. Dust and corrosion marked every surface, hinting at the module's age. His team had only spotted the ruin yesterday. He hadn't dared investigate what he thought he had spotted with the others around but...
There it was, tucked away between two moldering tangles of cables and strange consoles. He couldn't tell what the larger machines had originally been, but android capsules were always the last thing to go. Every salvage guide said so. They had lists of all the important model codes, too. Blue for medbots, red for combat drones, green for maintenance blanks... on and on. Probably twenty in the official lists. But he thought he had seen a different color on this one yesterday.
There they were, clear in the trembling circle of light from his suit's palm. Pink markings. The Vulture's Guide didn't list pink. The Federation Recovery Index didn't list pink. No reputable guide mentioned android capsules with pink markings. To be fair, he didn't think they were very common. But he had seen them once in a vid when he was doing... independent research online.
His heart was pounding now. Every step he took toward the capsule made him feel like it was going to vanish. The crotch of his hardsuit was feeling tighter and tighter. That vid had carried him through many a long and lonely night. If this pod was real, he could live it. Slowly he reached out toward the smooth, dusty curve of the egg-like capsule. His hand brushed a wide swath of ancient grime away.
Still shining,
he thought as the cleared surface caught the light from his suit's palm.
How is that even possible after all this time?
His hand was shaking as he pressed the button set into the almost-invisible seam.
He couldn't help jumping back as the top of the pod split open with a hiss. Actuators whined with the effort of raising the pink-and-chrome panel, but it did slowly ascend to reveal a slender, buxom form curled up inside. That's when he knew he had been right. That was no medbot or combat drone.
His hungry gaze slid over long hair draped over a lithe back, down to the gentle curve of firm buttocks, and all the way up... God, all the long, long way up those legs folded up in front of the droid. Her shapely arms were wrapped around her legs, holding them close against an ample chest. His trained eye could make out the faint hints of tan synthetic skin and auburn spun-fiber hair. He could spot that sheen on the droid's white-and-red bodysuit that matched her skin – it was the same stuff. But the illusion was almost perfect.
Then her big violet eyes fluttered open and met his and he was gone. He felt like he was drowning in them, those great pools of purple with strands of golden light flickering in them as her mind powered up bit by bit. The false skin around them creased when she smiled. That smile. Smoky, taunting... just a perfectly calculated crook at the corner of her mouth, but it promised so many things.
The droid pulled herself gracefully out of the pod, unfolding her long, lithe legs and uncovering the chest of her bodysuit. Her body. God damn. Even though he knew it was part of her, his eyes couldn't help but accept the illusion of her clothing. It was perfectly molded around her breasts, giving the flawless illusion of rubber straining to conceal her curves. And failing deliciously. She rose up into attention, freezing into a stiff pose for a heartbeat before her eyes flashed and she relaxed slightly.
"Welcome to the recreation deck," she said. Her voice warbled almost imperceptibly, belying her nature, but the husky, inviting tone was impossible to mistake. "I am Number Four." Her head cocked slightly. "Do you require my services today?"
"I...I..." he stammered. He couldn't believe this was actually happening. Of course, some parts of him had less trouble figuring out the situation. His hardsuit's crotch felt about four sizes too small now. It was actually getting a bit painful. He checked the atmosphere readout on his wrist. All green. Good. A few keypresses and the seals on his suit unlocked. The mounting pressure below his waist slackened as the panel finally gave a bit outward.
Number Four didn't noticeably react to the sudden sound of disengaging seals or seams loosening all over his suit. She was still standing exactly as she had been, head slightly cocked to the side.
She's still waiting for an answer, moron.
"I...yes, I would..." His mouth snapped shut again.
I can't even do this with a fake girl.
She stayed still for another awful moment, eyes flickering, and he started to think she had broken. Then her head straightened and her coy smile returned. "Are you shy?" Paul froze as still as Number Four as she stopped to wait for his answer. This was happening. He was about to be rejected by a robot. Sure enough, a moment later her body strained up into the rigid pose she had flashed through when she was starting up. "Please standby, loading..." she said.
But then she relaxed. Sort of. Paul took a step back when he caught the hungry look in her violet eyes. Her body whirred, whisper-quiet, as she settled down slightly. She looked like she was suddenly going to spring at him. "I'm programmed to handle shy customers," she growled. The rubber-like surface of her bodysuit rippled and shifted. Suddenly the white-and-red rubber was gone, changed entirely into the smooth tan texture that passed for her skin. Her breasts settled slightly, now bearing small pink nipples unconcealed by illusory fabric. The mound between her legs spread into a pair of pink folds, open and glistening with slick moisture.
Number Four slunk forward, something almost predatory in her stride now. Paul took another nervous step back but froze when she reached out to caress the side of his face. She leaned in close to whisper in his ear. "I think there's someone in here who
will
speak to me."
Suddenly the readout on his arm lit up with flickering symbols, changing so fast they blurred together. Paul could feel a faint tingle of electricity on his cheek where Number Four's hand was resting on his helmet. Her eyes lit up with a web of flickering golden light, as hypnotic as the calm violet had been before.
His helmet split along the center seam and fell to the ground in halves. His chest and crotch panels followed the plastic pieces down to clatter on the metal plates of the ancient station's deck. The rest of his suit locked back together, though. The assist motors in the suit's structure whined, dragging his arms out and his legs straight and locking in place. He suddenly wished the expedition hadn't paid for such an expensive power model when he strained against them and found that he couldn't budge. A moment later he mentally kicked himself for complaining.
Number Four's hand slowly glided down over Paul's cheek, now without the intervening layer of clear helmet visor. "That's better," she purred. "Now you can't bolt and we can take...our...time..." Her fingers traced his jawline in and found a sensitive line trailing down toward his chest. He started to follow her hand down with his eyes but found himself focusing past it on her gorgeous breasts. He could spot the faint seams between her surface panels, but they did nothing to detract from her beauty. Whoever had crafted her body had artfully traced its curves in those thin lines. Her chest, her arms, her flat stomach, her supple legs, every perfect feature was framed.
But her breasts drew him in, shifting as the cable muscles beneath her skin carried her hand slowly lower. Her fingers were lazily drifting over his chest now, drawing whorls and tracing lines without any apparent pattern. Paul could feel his own muscles twitching in response, skin tingling in the wake of her teasing touch. He only realized what the sensation was when her finger slid over his nipple and a sudden needle of tension burst out from it with a sharp electric snap. He cried out momentarily before biting his lip.
