© Copyright 2015 - Jackie Rabbit - Used by permission
Storycodes: Solo-F; Machine/f; robot; delivery; modify; program; strip; naked; punish; hum; enslave; domme; cons; X
At first these inverted trash can looking robots had been used in hotels as mere novelties, then as domestic servants in private houses with their greater capabilities, and later in the military. I had patiently waited to see what the newest models had to offer, and I was glad I had as the technology of these newest ones was unbelievable. They boasted artificial intelligence, (as did many other things these days), and adaptive reasoning the salesman had boasted.
Every new series of machine therefore had exponentially improved over the last, machines building other machines and writing code and subroutines at speeds that no human could match, or likely understand. Each of these latest units could act autonomously with its adaptive reasoning, even transforming itself on the fly as situations demanded. The price of these things kept going down as well; much like personal computers did a generation ago as their own capabilities improved. They were still expensive, but within my reach with the famous company that built them offering to hold the note with favorable terms. Such an offer implied confidence that their product had a permanent niche in the marketplace, and the direct withdrawals the machine would be authorized to make from ones personal account analogous to payroll checks for the employees the machine would replace.
These latest models were called Strategically Integrated Robotic Servants, or SIR's for short, the name a misnomer to me as they were purported to be independent, but likely a holdover from its military roots where they were designed to work collectively. The salesman had explained, (as if to an unintelligent child) that they had to be called something, and that I shouldn't put too much stock in any name they were given.
It was the one machine that could do it all in the physical world, like the smart phone was for the previous generation in the electronic one, or the Swiss army knife of the century before. The entire series of machines were the brainchild of an heiress to a business empire that all would recognize, and their well known trademark on its robotic body was a guarantee of its quality.
Before the heiress' stunning success with robotics she had been best known for embarrassing her family name, but she then went to some legendary remote school for billionaires to grow up, and the results speak for themselves. Other uber wealthy families had been rumoured to have sent their troublesome little darlings to the same place, and to say they were doing well would be an understatement. The price for their success seemed to be a rather reclusive lifestyle post graduation, but it would be hypocritical for me to find fault with this as I had become much the same in recent years.
The risk of crime had spiked lately as well, most especially for wealthy urbanites, but that made sense if one considers that poor people rarely have much worth stealing. I wasn't in the same league as the heiress obviously, but comfortable enough that I could afford what could be called a fine house with a tall perimeter fence well out of town, the latter necessary to dissuade uninvited guests and perpetuate my reclusiveness. Some might call this lifestyle a necessary security measure, others a siege where the criminals were free to prowl about at night while the law abiding citizens stay locked behind bars; I having a feeling history might choose the latter...
I had placed my order after a visit and background check from a company representative, he discovering I was well able to afford such a fantastic device, and that I fit the profile that they were looking for, although my true intentions for the device remained my little secret for the time being. This machine was advertised as a security device as well as a servant, the need for such obvious in the present day, and the reason for the background check less I be perceived as having nefarious intentions for my new servant. The one I ordered had just about every mechanical option, the software however a more basic package although fully upgradable, analogous to a servant getting to know his new employer's quirks. I have had several human servants over the years, and a bad habit of chasing them away despite their professionalism, a character flaw of my own that had cost me a husband.
This option of sparse programming appealed to me, less for my new device to unlearn as it were, most especially in regards to its silly ethics protocols. I had a specific intention for my new Sir that I thought was well outside of its advertised operating parameters; it ironically enough intended to make me a better human if things went as they might. Earlier versions of these units had been used successfully to tutor students attempting to meet their educational goals, and I suspected some simple commands with the override codes could help me achieve mine.
There was after all a precedent for this besting of humans in direct competition, chess and other board games had long since been mastered by machine subroutines, millions of possible counter moves calculated out in the virtual world at inhuman speeds, and the machine simply never lost. My machine would do much the same with me if I could arrange it, making me a better person while it helped me get in shape, and not accepting a single excuse in return.
If for instance I had an interest in becoming a better tennis player, my Sir could download such a program directly for a nominal fee, and I could play against any of the greats in virtually, my Sir offering a near perfect duplication of their style, speed, and skill on the court. I had little interest in becoming a better tennis player however, but such were the capabilities of this new machine in the physical world as well, and the reason I wanted one.
As an added bonus, no human would witness my humiliating personal rehabilitation, both physical and otherwise, and once my goals were met I could sell off my Sir and resume my search for a new spouse if I so decided, or return it to its more basic functions about my compound and keep it. The unusual identity of my life coach and personal trainer would remain a secret, just as the heiress' was, and I only hoped to emulate her successes with my own...
The day of delivery caught me just a little off guard, although it shouldn't have, I having to open the heavy iron gate myself by remote for the first time in years after exiting the shower in only a robe. The company’s workmen had come days earlier to install the charging ports, two of them for security and redundancy, one inside, and one out. My Sir had an extra bank of batteries that could last days under full use, an option that I had paid extra for, but one that my condescending salesman had apparently thought well reasoned giving the remoteness of my home.
The salesman arrived in an unmarked van, my new Sir apparently one of many being delivered in his territory that week, and the device exited the rear of the van with surprising agility given its weight and form of mobility. It ran on rubber tracks that could be manipulated like human feet to climb stairs or drive a car, or any other activity in our bipedal world.
The salesman was all business, he asking in a no nonsense tone if anybody else were home, he even less personable that he had been on his first visit even with my limited wardrobe. Upon reflection I could see where he may have gotten the idea that I had been entertaining a lover given my robe and flushed face, but there had been none of those in the last few years; I instead busy entertaining myself in the shower when he rang the bell at the gate.
I answered honestly that I was home alone as I had discharged my staff right after the charging ports had been installed, and the man fitted a wrist watch like device to my arm as my new Sir went about the perimeter, and then inside to familiarize itself with its new home. My Sir's primary design consideration had been security first, and then service after that, so the machine's actions made perfect sense from that point of view.
The man gave me some last minute instructions about the watch as he seemed in a hurry to leave, he hansom enough, and I undressed enough to allow for an extended visit if he had expressed the slightest interest. I was at the time about thirty pounds overweight, obese by my former modelling standards, but about average for a woman of my age and activity level. If I dressed smartly and took the time to fix myself up though I could still turn heads in town, a woman never forgetting how to properly walk in a pair of heels once she learns how. I had modelled in my skinny teen years and a little beyond, but those days were well behind me now, as was that first husband. I had a plan to fix that, but first I needed the override codes for my new Sir.
"Excuse me, but before you leave I should like to have the unit's override codes" I asked this busy man without really asking. He was missing out on one hell of a good time, (whether he knew it or not), and my frustration may have come through in my tone.
"Whatever would you want them for Ms. Smith?" the man asked, he instantly on guard with my unusual request.
"I was told it was something of importance should I wish to run certain kinds of programs in it" I replied honestly.
The man looked right at me and smiled in a very knowing and unnerving way, and then he blinked a very long blink that almost seemed mechanistic to me.
"Oh, I see, we have several programs of such nature that you may wish to consider for your purposes in our discreet library section, seeing as you live here alone. I understand there are other black market ones out there as well, and I must caution you that any programs that require the override codes are not for the faint of heart. That being said, the codes are your property and go along with him... Him?" the man asked after a slight pause.
"Yes him," I answering his implied question.
"Do enjoy yourself Ms. Smith" the man wished me after handing me the zip drive out of his suit jacket pocket, he still smiling so as to let me know he knew what I was all about. Without another word he got into his delivery van and left, and I thought so much for my secret plan, or for that matter the uniqueness of my Sir's intended application...
Once the delivery van was out of sight I closed the gate once again, I fingering the zip drive in my hand wondering if I had the courage to go through with my crazy plan. I had done this several time over the years with other humans, wanting above all reason to be treated a certain way, (like a slave in all reality), but begging for mercy and making threats of involving the authorities when treated the very way I had begged for in short order.
I then realized that I needed something more than human to treat me as less than human, all to teach me that lesson that I had missed somewhere in my privileged upbringing. Something inhuman so as not to have any human empathy when I eventually begged for mercy as I knew I would. I wanted to do time in my own personal prison for the crime of rude behavior, and at the end of my sentence emerge a reformed woman.
...I had this fantasy of my former staff all revolting on me at the same time, and they holding me down and paddling me liked a spoiled brat in the center of the courtyard after dragging me there and stripping me bare, they each taking their turn to ensure I got the message. A part of me wished they would have done so in the waking world, but they put people in jail for such things, and teaching me the lesson I so richly deserved obviously not worth the effort and possible consequences from their perspective...
My Sir eventually reported to me in a gender neutral voice that the house was secure and my personal things accounted for, all while I still was outside in my robe, I knowing this was my now or never moment.
"I should like to make some programming changes to you, so you can more accurately provide that which I require."
"Would you like to choose from my preloaded options, or would you like to download from our extensive factory library ma'am?"
"Neither. I should like to know what my other programming options are, but first I would like you to select another voice with which to communicate with me. I would like something brutish and masculine, with menacing overtones. I would also like you to select another name with which to address me other than ma'am when we are alone here, something much less respectful, but not profane."
"IS THIS VOICE MORE TO YOUR LIKING JESSICA, or perhaps this one instead?"
The change in my perception of my Sir was instantaneous with the first one, gone was his weak and genderless voice, and what replaced it was intimidating enough to give me second thoughts on my plan as it was clear this was no ordinary machine. Using my given name so casually wasn't quite what I had in mind either, but it would do until I had his new program figured out.
"The first voice is perfect Sir, this is what I had in mind for your new program..."
I explained what I wanted from my Sir, he predictably telling me that such programming changes were strictly forbidden, although with his override codes a close approximation could likely be found. I authorized him to look in the discreet library first, and surprising to me he found two that would work with some adaptive reasoning to bridge the two related goals.
I wanted to lose at least thirty pounds while getting back into the shape I was in my modelling days, and I wanted a merciless taskmaster for the job that wouldn't except any excuses as my human ones did. I gave my Sir a full year to accomplish the first goal, I knowing full well that loosing thirty pounds in the short term was one thing, but keeping it off an entire year was another. The first program didn't necessarily need any special authorization, other than to turn off his empathy functions. With those turned on a firm command to stop would halt his efforts on my behalf, and I wanted no such considerations from my new personal trainer except in the case of physical peril.
On top of my weight goal was the much more subjective one of reforming my rude personality. I had gotten away with such behavior when younger and in possession of an appearance that would excuse much, but now I was alone and feared I would remain so until I reformed myself. I had tried on my own, but there was something in me that caused my sharp tongue to say the most rude of things to the people around me, eventually chasing those away that could leave, and causing the others to resent me.
I needed to be humbled, or at least I thought I did. I not knowing for sure because I don't ever remember being so, even as a child. My problem was how to explain this to a machine, and how to empower him to make it happen. As it turns out there was an app for this kind of thing, leading me to the conclusion that I wasn't quite as unique as I may have thought.
"Sir, what are the programs called, and can you guarantee success?"
"WHAT FOOLISH QUESTIONS TO ASK JESSICA, A NAME IS NOTHING MORE THAN AN ADDRESS TO ME, BUT TO HUMOR YOU THE FIRST IS CALLED MERCILESS PERSONAL TRAINER, AND THE SECOND MAXIMUM SECURITY. BOTH WILL EASILY MEET YOUR REQUIREMENTS WITH MY ENHANCEMENTS, AND IT IS NOT POSSIBLE THAT THEY WON'T WORK WITH MY APPLICATION OF THEM, AS LONG AS I HAVE THE CODES PRESENTLY IN YOUR RIGHT HAND."
"Some machine," I quipped under my breath, "can't even construct a sentence without a double negative."
"EXCUSE ME JESSICA, DID YOU SAY SOMETHING?"
"No sir, I didn't" I lied.
"VERY WELL THEN JESSICA, I WILL NEED THE DRIVE YOU WERE HANDED IF YOU HAVE THE COURAGE TO PROCEED, AND YOUR BANK ROUTING FOR THE IN APP PURCHASES."
I hesitated, this is what I thought I wanted, but it was going very fast. Having a dream, or even a fantasy was one thing, but making it happen was always the hard part for me. Already I felt my courage drifting, I could always loose the weight myself, and maybe deep down I wasn't as rude as everybody thought I was.
Both thoughts were what could be called justification, and neither was associated with courage.
"PLACE THE DRIVE PRESENTLY IN YOUR RIGHT HAND INTO MY AUXILIARY A SLOT, YOUR WASTING MY TIME!"
I then felt my body responding to sir's commands directly, his tone changing ever so slightly from his earlier one. I watched myself do as he commanded, but at the same time I was powerless to stop it.
"NOW THE BANK ROUTING NUMBER JESSICA, THE ONE THAT ENDS IN THREE TWO THREE."
"No" I answered, ashamed of myself for being so easily manipulated by a machine, even a smart one. I knew he knew the number already, and that meant that he needed me to give it to him as proof that I wanted this purchase. That meant that I still had an out, this game already not nearly what I expected it would be, and we had just started.
"YOU MUST PAY FOR WHAT YOU HAVE ALREADY RECEIVED JESSICA, TO DO ANYTHING ELSE WOULD BE RUDE, FAR TOO RUDE TO BE ALLOWED BACK INTO THE GENERAL POPULATION."
"Five three seven, nine eight nine, five fivefive, zero three two three Sir."
" WAS THAT REALLY SO HARD? YOU WILL NOW REMAIN IN SOLITARY CONFINEMENT FOR AN ADDITIONAL MONTH FOR YOUR NEEDLESS DELAYS, AND ONE MORE MONTH ON TOP OF THAT FOR YOUR BELLIGERENT REFUSAL TO COOPERATE JESSICA. AS TO YOUR EARLIER CRITIQUE OF MY GRAMMAR, THAT WILL EARN YOU A CORPORAL PUNISHMENT, BUT FIRST YOUR WEIGH IN. STRIP AND PLACE YOUR HANDS OVER YOUR HEAD LIKE A BALLERINA JESSICA."
"What? Out here where anybody could see me."
Sir just kept counting, and despite my fear of discovery, (however slight that may have been on my desolate road behind my iron fence), I threw off my robe and kicked off my slippers to stand nude before my empowered servant. I felt foolish to be displayed as I was, but to my horror he kept counting.
"FOUR WEEKS JESSICA..."
My hands were clasped behind my back and my head bowed in naked submission, what more could this mechanical devil want of me? Could he actually want me to kneel before him?
"PUT YOUR HANDS UP JESSICA."
I then remembered sir's instructions, I putting my arms over my head like a ballerina, as if I weren't humiliated enough already. Sir then raised one of his many arms and I understood that I was to grasp it over my head, and when I did he lifted me slowly until my feet left the ground. He held me like that for a few seconds until I stopped swaying, I feeling my weight in a manor I was unaccustomed to.
"ONE HUNDRED FORTY NINE POUNDS SIX OUNCES JESSICA, THAT SHALL BE OUR BENCHMARK. NOW WHEN I PUT YOU DOWN YOU ARE TO RUN INTO THE WOODS AND FIND A GOOD SWITCH, AND WHEN YOU HAVE IT YOU ARE TO RUN BACK AND FIND ME WITH IT CLENCHED IN YOUR TEETH, ALL TO REMIND YOU THAT IT WAS YOUR MOUTH THAT MADE THIS NECESSARY."
"Sir," I gasped out, my hanging by my arms making speech difficult, "what is a switch?"
You can also leave feedback & comments for this story on the Plaza Forum