The Non-Standard Man

When I woke Saturday morning, I smelled coffee, but no bacon. And Andrew did not come through the bedroom door bearing a tray. I got up, wrapped a robe around me, and walked out to the living room. Andrew stood behind the partly open front door, guiding the Bradleys out.

Muffled words came from the other side of the door, but I couldn't catch them.

"Yes, they both have been properly disinfected," said Andrew. He shut the door and turned.

"Evaline, breakfast is ready," he said quietly. " Your friends are at the table. Please, come get the coffee." Through my sleep-addled brain it took a moment to figure out that Andrew intended that I serve my friends. Normal pleasure 'bots did not do that work.

Betty, Kiki and Suki sat at the table, definitely looking worse for wear.

"Good morning, ladies. Up for breakfast?"

They groaned as I went into the kitchen, and took the pot of coffee, and plate of pastries Andrew handed me.

"God, Evaline, you're a lifesaver," said Betty as I poured her coffee. Kiki and Suki just stared at their cups as I filled them. I poured my own, and took a sip of Andrew's delicious coffee.

"I hope you had fun last night."

"I must have," said Betty. "I don't remember any of it."

"Shame," I said taking another sip.

"Funny thing," said Suki, "I don't either."

"I remember the Jell-O shots," said Kiki. "Not much after that. When did you have the time to make those, Evaline?"

"Hmm?" I said.

"A note hung on the kitchen door that said to look in the refrigerator if you weren't home. And we did."

"Oh boy, did we," said Betty.

"I kinda remember them now," said Suki. "Very tasty."

The women lapsed into silence while I wondered what my devious robot put in the Jell-O shots.

Note to self: put a lock on the liquor cabinet when you change locks on Monday.

But with no memories of the previous night, they couldn't testify to Andrew's non-bot like behavior. And I wasn't going to let them ruminate last night now.

"Drink up, ladies. I hate to rush you, but I've got to get to the office."

#

"I do not understand," said Andrew as he helped me dress after my friends left, "why you need to go to work on Saturday morning. Does not everyone else take this as a day off?"

I wasn't in the mood for this. Andrew took real chances in the level of inebriation that he pushed my friends to, the way he orchestrated last night's 'festivities.' My friends would know Andrew for more than an obedient pleasure 'bot if they reclaimed their memories. Nor did I appreciate him putting our sex life on display. As he stood there, with that constantly smug smile of his, Andrew pissed me off. That he waited for me with there with the new slacks and sweater set he bought for me pissed me off too. In fact, everything about Andrew pissed me off today.

"High profile lawyers don't get days off, Andrew. I might get a short day here and there."

"But you need rest. You've had a very busy week."

"What is this?" I said annoyed. "This is my life, Andrew, MY life. This is what I do. And guess what, Sundays I play golf with clients, and then go into the office, and then Monday I get to get up and start the week all over again."

"You need rest," he said.

"I need you to fucking back off."

He stepped back, surprised at the vehemence in my words.

"If that is what you desire, I will back off." He let go of my new clothes, and they dropped to the floor.

Damn if his robot voice sounded hurt. But that wasn't possible. It was just an algorithmic response to the intensity of my words.

"What the hell, Andrew," I said as I retrieved the sweater set and slacks. He didn't say a word, and stood there with his arms crossed as I put on them on.

"I'm sorry, Andrew," I said. "You are right. I am tired. I'll make it a short day, and we can relax in tonight."

"If you wish," he said in that pissy tone of his.

I huffed as I slipped on a pair of silk socks that matched the outfit, and a pair of casual brown leather pumps with a low heel. He stood there motionless, not offering compliments on how I looked, not fixing my hair as he usually did. I brushed my hair out to hang loose on my shoulders.

I grabbed my briefcase myself.

"Have a good day, Andrew," I said. He didn't reply.

I shook my head and headed out the door.

#

I don't know why I bothered to argue with Andrew. What difference did it make? He was a robot, a pleasure 'bot, and I'd let the thing take over my life. That had to stop.

After I made the rounds through the office, greeted the people there and noted who wasn't, I fetched a cup of coffee. Since I gave Caroline the weekend off, I had to do for myself. I didn't mind this. I enjoyed the less formal atmosphere of the office on Saturday. There were no ringing telephones, or interruptions by needy associates, or demands from partners. I could focus on the work.

With the prospect of peace and quiet, I opened my briefcase to pull out the reports on Cicily the programmer and the case law on non-standard programming.

Not only the main programmer at Androdyne, Cicily Wells ran the company with co-owner and CEO Sinta Grant. Sinta worked the hardware side, while Cicily designed their proprietary software. Between them they created the first toybots, their Andrew series.

Androdyne was to toybots like Apple was to the computing world. They produced top of the line products out the gate. But other companies soon caught up, made their robots cheaper, and added popular features. The cheaper toybots broke more often. That didn't bother many consumers who grew bored with different features. They'd just trade-in their toybots for ones with newer features.

Androdyne aficionados, however, were legend in their devotion to their Andrews to the point of even holding conventions to celebrate the original toybot. In fact, even the word 'toybot' belonged to Androdyne, trademarked along with their first creation. Much like Kleenex refers to tissues, the word toybot became common usage.

I turned the page on the report the PI provided. Cicily Wells died in a lab accident six months prior. There are no details on how she died. Even the police report the PI provided had significant details redacted. What were they hiding? And who hid this information?

I turned my attention to the case law regarding non-standard programming. It was much like I expected. The Programming of Robots Act, passed in 2023, declared programming sentient robots illegal. Robots could only be programmed for specific tasks according to the robot's function. 'Global knowledge', that is knowledge of a myriad number of topics, was not allowed. The only exception went to research. From what I saw, that exemption was supposed to be applied to military research. Was Andrew a military research project?

Different businesses tried to circumvent the law, because you could charge more money for robots that did more than one thing. Most people did not want multiple 'bots in their homes. A few businesses applied and were granted exceptions if they kept the program narrow enough.

Despite that, the law was unequivocal for consumers. Malfunctioning and/or defective robots must be turned in the government immediately.

What all this meant was that my robot was most definitely programmed in an illegal manner, by legal means, for a purpose that I did not know. The one thing I did know was that Andrew never should have been sold to Peck's for resale.

My next order of business was the client I took on Friday, Lindsey Talbot. I picked up the file Caroline left for me, thick with research, Caroline's notes, and the actual court papers. Androdyne filed suit against Talbot Pharmaceuticals for patent infringement. This was weird, because most pharmaceutical development had a special exception under Federal law regarding patent infringement.

I looked over the suit, which involved a product that Talbot called Arti-skin. Arti-skin was synthetically made skin created by mixing recombinant DNA with synthetic components. The product was used to rebuild large areas of skin lost through accident or disease. Arti-skin appeared to be unique in its ability to graft onto the damage area. Not only did it function as the missing skin, but also helped the damaged tissue rebuild.

The problem with most artificial skin was that the best ones were difficult to mass-produce. Arti-skin, however, was not. The coolest part was that Arti-skin would eventually slough off like real skin, as the new skin grew in. For this reason Arti-skin was eyed not only by reconstructive surgeons but plastic surgeons as well. Here was the money pot. If plastic surgeons successfully used Arti-skin in their rejuvenation techniques it would explode the market for Arti-skin. Talbot's stood to lose a huge market if they lost this patent fight.

Pulling out the development notes, I figured out that a synthetic lattice was used to anchor the organic components to encourage their growth. This was nothing new. A quick review of the history of artificial skin development showed that providing an artificial lattice to organic components was a standard procedure. So what got Androdyne so excited?

Of course, Androdyne wasn't going to give that specific information in their suit. I pulled out the pleading to see what clues I'd find, and what I could mark for discovery.

Androdyne claimed infringement of intellectual property citing that Talbot's artificial lattice was the same or similar as the lattice in their patented invention. The underpinning of their claim was that the developer of the Androdyne product was the same as the developer of Arti-skin, Jason Wells.

Wait. Did I read that right? Jason Wells?

My fingers flew over my keyboard to find that, yes, Jason Wells was the son of Androdyne's programmer Cicily Wells. Wasn't that interesting?

The difference between Talbot's patent and Androdyne's patent was that Androdyne patented the actual materials, while Talbot patented the process.

This was all sorts of interesting. First, Talbot's, by virtue of being a pharmaceutical company, couldn't patent biological materials, but Androdyne, not being a pharmaceutical, could. The issue was intent. Pharmaceuticals were assumed to produce products used in medicine, while Androdyne produced a product for consumer use.

A second issue was Jason Wells' non-compete clause. I assumed he had one. Most non-competes had a clause that would prevent an inventor from sharing a previous employer's proprietary information. The crossover in industries wouldn't nullify that. I had to see Jason's specific agreement. I left a note for Caroline to get a copy.

Another issue was why would Androdyne be interested in a biological material, an artificial skin? Andrew's remark about artificial surfaces irritating human skin came to mind. I remembered my reaction to the softness of Andrew's mouth and tongue. They felt 'real.' Did Andrew's enhancements include biological skin?

I remembered Andrew's response this morning about 'properly disinfecting' the Bradleys to the person picking up them up. Humans carried a mass of bacteria and viruses, so it made sense to disinfect artificial surfaces. But I never once heard Andrew talk about disinfecting himself.

I had more questions than answers here, and I had to get them soon. There were things I had to do. First, I had to meet Jason Wells and ask him some very pointed questions. Second, I had to find out if I got more than I bargained for in Andrew's enhancements. Because it seemed to me that Androdyne all along planned to create robots as sophisticated as Andrew despite the current law.

#

Thoughts of I everything I learned that day buzzed around my brain. I had to learn more about Andrew's enhancements, especially if he did have biologic skin.

We sat on the couch watching a movie. Andrew did his best to get back into my good graces. He'd prepared another fabulous meal, and massaged my shoulders. At this moment he acted wonderfully sweet, putting his arm around my shoulder, and giving me little kisses now and then.

I sighed. I couldn't let Andrew's manipulations get the better of me. And it was time to find out a few things.

"Andrew, take off your clothes."

"Do you want sex, Evaline?"

I shook my head. "I've had you here for a week and I don't think I've ever seen you fully naked."

"Why do you want to see me without clothing?"

"I just do. Indulge me."

"If you wish, Evaline," he said.

He stripped, and I stood, looking over his body, front and back. I didn't see anything that was a different from a normal toybot.

Andrew stood, his body still, but his eyes followed my movements.

"Like what you see?" he said huskily.

I almost huffed. He used a standard toybot line. Andrew must have dug deep for something to say, and only came up with that. He must be thinking hard. I touched my hand to his neck, my fingers splayed wide, seeking anything that smacked of biological skin. My other hand went to his cock.

He stared at me.

"What do you want, Evaline?"

"I want to touch your cock."

"Why?"

"I've had it in me enough times. I'd just like to touch it with my hand."

I touched his shaft, my fingers wrapped around it. I'd always found men's cocks a wonderful tactile contradiction. Even when erect, despite the steel within, the outside skin was soft and silky. Andrew's mimicked this perfectly.

"Do you feel anything when I touch this?" I asked.

"The pressure of your fingers."

"That's not what I meant."

"You mean, do I get enjoyment from your touch?"

"Yes?"

"Not in the way you think. My behavioral rewards come from pleasing you."

I hefted his shaft in my hands, so like a man's penis.

"Explain to me. Behavioral rewards?"

"It is a complex process. From what Cicily explained to me, algorithms are encoded in my programming that signal when a task is complete. I am programmed to perform a task to its completion. When I please you, I complete a task. To complete a task is my reward."

"You mean, that not having to do something anymore is your reward?"

"I believe I just said that."

"So, if I sucked your penis in my mouth, would you enjoy that?"

"I cannot 'enjoy' anything. My only reward is to complete the task of pleasuring you."

"Hmm," I said. I licked his shaft, enjoying the meaty texture on my tongue.

"And how do you decide what is a task?"

"Whatever it takes to please you."

"Oh, Andrew, you know every woman wants to hear that."

"I'm not interested in what every woman wants, only what you desire."

Such a perfect answer, and yet, it was too complex a sentence to be included in a toybot's standard repertoire of lines.

Closing my eyes I licked his balls. They were hairless, and smelled clean and delectable. I drew one into my mouth the texture was so very human. Was this normal for a toybot? How would I know? Despite their offers, I never played with any of my friends' 'bots. I might have to do some field research on this.

"Hmm," I said as I sucked on his balls.

"What do you want, Evaline?" he said.

"I want to please you," I said. With a slurp, I sucked his shaft whole into my mouth, and swirled my tongue at the end.

"Evaline," he said, his voice husky, "there is only one way to please me, by letting me make you cum."

I pulled away. "Are you sure about that?"

He seemed to think about that for a moment.

"It would please you to please me?" he said.

"Yes."

"If you want to please me," he said, "we'll do it my way."

Andrew pulled me up and put his hands inside the waistband of my sweatpants on either side of my hips.

My breathing hitched. My waist always was sensitive to touch. His fingers slid down the side of my legs drawing down my pants. Then he brought his fingers up the same way and I shivered.

"Always so responsive," he said in my ear, leaning in against me. He hooked his finger to catch inside the tender folds near my pussy. "Always wet." His pushed his finger up inside me then and I made a little noise. He moved his finger in and out, his hand under my ass. He turned his hand so my clit moved between his finger and thumb, and his little finger reached up to play with my other hole.

I wriggled on his hand, moaning. He bent his head, and licked a nipple, then sucked it between his lips, sucking hard, sending electric jolts of pleasure through me.

"Oh!"

He let that nipple drop from his mouth, and he sucked in the other one. His other hand cupped an ass cheek and pulled him closer to me. He pinched my ass, hard, hard enough to leave a mark. Between the sucking on my nipple and the pain of the pinch, my pussy gushed.

"Please, Andrew," I whimpered, totally under his control once again.

He slipped another finger into me, and urged me to rock my hips with his free hand by pressing the space on my spine above my ass. Then he dug his finger into and drew it up my spine as if willing me to cum.

I was burning, a hot ember ready to crack open by the heat of his movements. With a nipple in his mouth, two fingers in my snatch, and his thumb fingering my rosebud, my excitement edged higher.

Suddenly he pulled everything away, and I stood there in a kind of pre-orgasmic shock. My heart pounded, and my pussy protested the lack of stimulation. I felt unable to stand, and it took every effort on my part to do so.

He looked at me, and I swore there was lust in his gorgeous blue eyes. His hand reached and tweaked my aching nipple. Another shot of pleasure sped through me.

"So beautiful," he said like the words were a lyric to a song.

"Andrew," I said through dry lips. I shivered, left over shocks of pleasure singing through my overworked nerves. I didn't know what came next. Would he spank me? Or bend me over the couch again? I stood there, needing and wanting, and he just stared at me.

"Fine," I said, suddenly tired of his little game. I made a move to walk past him.

He spun me around, picked me up in his arms, and walked forward. He kicked open the bedroom door. My heart fluttered hard in my chest as he lowered me to the bed.

Andrew climbed between my legs, gently drew them apart, and massaged the inside of my thighs. I moaned. His hands moved to my mound, and he massaged it with his firm fingers, drawing out the most delicious sensations of arousal and relaxation. I moved my hips back and forth in his hands and his thumbs pressed on either side of my clit. Tingles of pleasure built a white heat that threatened to bubble into my release.

"I'm close," I said panting.

"Sweetheart," he said tenderly. He pressed his cock against the flame that was my slit, the tip edging the inside of it, and I gasped. I needed more, and I greedily bucked my hips to urge him to give it to me.

He thrust, and at once all of him was inside of me. Still he moved slowly, his shoulders rising and falling above me as he raked his cock in and out. Every stroke was so deliberate I felt each inch as he moved. It was incredible and infuriating at the same time. I need more to cum, and he was going so slowly I couldn't. He built my arousal to levels that drove me insane. My heart jackhammered in my chest.

He kept on with his sensuous torture for many minutes. I whimpered shamelessly, begging him for more, needing to cum. I writhed and squirmed, trying to bring on my release.

"Look at me, Evaline," he said. "Look in my eyes."

Breathing hard, sweat gleaming on my body, I met his gaze.

"Now, Evaline. Come now!"

With that, his eyes to mine, he slammed into me, and then again, and again once more. I burst apart, screaming. He kept thrusting, reaching far back into me, and I exploded again impaled on him. Stars shot across my vision. Every part of me broke apart as his shaft reached into the furthest part of me and gripped my soul.