The first chapter that this story was inspired by “What Girl is This?” by Greg M.
My Girl Imogen
By Matt Penn
CHAPTER ONE:
Mike walked home from Midland Middle School to his home four blocks away. School had been out since the sixteenth, but he had been in his classroom writing lesson plans. It wasn’t like he had anything else to do. He unlocked the door and stepped into the tiny living room. Once inside, he sat down in his reclining chair, used the remote to turn on the television, and then didn’t watch it.
The room was undecorated. He hadn’t even bothered to put up a Christmas tree. There wasn’t much point with only himself to celebrate. Christmas was still six days away, of course, but this was going to be the first Christmas that Mike would spend completely alone. His wife Irene had died four years ago, a victim of a drunk driver, but he had had his two children with him. Now his son Mark had joined the army, and his daughter Betty, married, was away visiting her in-laws. She would be back before Christmas, but she had her husband to spend the holiday with.
The phone rang. It was his daughter checking to see that he was alright. He assured her that he was fine. Yes, he was eating properly. Yes, he had plenty of things to keep him occupied. He might play a few games of Civilization on his computer. It was a lie. None of his computer games had given him any consolation in a long time. He thought about going to a bar to try and meet somebody, but a fifty-two year old, overweight man with a wardrobe purchased on a teacher’s salary wasn’t likely to score. He finally walked into his bedroom and went to bed.
The next morning was warm. Although it was December twentieth, winter weather would not trouble the city of Springdale, California. In fact, it was shirt sleeve weather. Mike got up, walked back into the living room. Then stopped. There in the center of the room was a large metal box. It reminded Mike at first of the cut-rate coffins that were in common use.
“How the hell did that get here?” wondered Mike.
He spent the next several minutes checking all of his doors and windows. They were all locked, just as they had been the night before. Just as they almost always were. Mike closely looked at the metal box. It was brushed steel, and he now realized, not at all the crappy craftsmanship of those cheap coffins. He examined it for markings. With a grunt of surprise, he stepped back. There were no markings on it anywhere.
The box opened on the left, where Mike found a shiny steel handle and a numeric keypad. Hanging from the handle was a card, with the numbers 3 3 6 2 7 9 1 printed upon it. Mike punched the number into the keypad and then lifted the handle. There was a hiss of air, and the crate opened slightly. The inside of the box was the same brushed steel of the outside, with a thick rubber seal around the edge. A pair of large gauge rubber tubes seemed to be connected a metallic box with a triangular radiation symbol on it.
In the center of the box was a naked woman or a very human looking doll. One of the tubes coming out of the apparently radioactive device went into a mask-like apparatus over her mouth. The other snaked it’s way back behind her.
“Holy Christ.” said Mike.
He carefully examined the doll. It was completely hairless, and it was definitely anatomically complete. He touched it. The skin was soft and room-temperature. It was very tall. It seemed even taller than Mike’s six foot two frame, but he realized that this was in part due to the box. When out of the box, he thought, it would be about five foot eight. It was busty, about a double D cup. Despite being bald, the doll looked very real, and very, very attractive. Mike thought that it must have been modeled after a Playboy playmate, and he felt a stirring in his pants that he hadn’t felt for quite a while.
Mike reached into the box and tried to lift the doll out, and as he did so he not only realized that it was heavy– as heavy as a real person. He stepped back and looked at the doll. Just then, the eyes on the doll opened. They were very unusual. Not the eyes of a human. It was as if someone had crafted eyes out of the finest tiger-eye gems.
“Holy Christ!” said Mike again.
The doll blinked.
“Holy Christ!” said Mike again.
The doll lifted it’s left arm and removed the mouth piece. Perfect white teeth and ruby lips were revealed. It then reached behind itself, into back and removed the other tube, which Mike could only assume connected to the doll’s anus. A moment later, the doll took a single step out of the box and stood, staring blankly into space. A second passed, then the doll turned, and reaching back into its box, It pulled out a large paper manual with a spiral binding. It then stood waiting, with the manual in its hand.
Mike reached forward and took the manual.
The cover read: XK9-75-GRL Orange Chiffon Edition.
Mike laughed nervously. He had thought in the back of his mind that this might be something sent from his son Mark from Eruope. Mark and his father had a close relationship, but there was no way that either of his children would send him some kind of virtual girl sex toy thing? He couldn’t imagine who would. And there was still the question of just how the metal coffin had gotten into his living room. Now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure that it would only just barely fit through the door.
Mike opened the manual and leafed through it. It was large, with many chapters and lots of technical information on the thing’s capabilities, and not too much on how to make it run. He tossed it onto the sofa. He hadn’t read the manual for his toaster, his mp3 player, or his computer. He wasn’t about to start by reading this one. When the manual landed on the sofa though, a single sheet of paper slid out and onto the floor.
Mike reached down and picked up the small paper. At the top, written in a festive holiday font, were the words “Quick Start Guide”.
“Ah, here we go.”
Just below the title was a simple artist’s rendering of a hand pinching an earlobe. Below the picture, a sentence read “To begin the imprinting process, pinch the right earlobe.” Mike flipped the paper over. There was nothing more on it. Tossing the paper aside, he stepped back over to the doll, reached out, and pinched the doll’s right earlobe.
The doll blinked a few times, and Mike was sure that it even shifted its weight from foot to foot. He released the earlobe and looked closely at the doll’s skin. There were no seams or lines anywhere, and it looked like real skin, but were no visible pores anywhere to be seen. No moles either. Mike noticed a few freckles, but when he looked closer, he saw that they were in fact, tiny five pointed stars. The doll took a deep breath.
“Holy Christ,” Mike said quietly. “This is a robot.”
The girl was looking at him, but blankly, devoid of emotion.
“Are you alright?” Mike asked.
The girl did not respond, except that her eyes were now tracking him.
“I’d better call Harry Jeppeson,” he said, thinking of his friend in the Springdale police department.
“Hello,” came a soft and very sultry voice.
Mike looked closely at the girl. “What did you say.”
“Hello. I am for you.”
“Oh, man. I’ve got to call Harry. I don’t know where you came from, but you don’t belong to me, and someone will be looking for something this valuable.”
The girl looked at him steadily and said.
“Do not notify the police or other public agency. This unit is not missing or stolen. This unit is for you. If you call the police or public agency, this unit will be taken away. This unit is yours to do with as you please. Please do not call the police or any other public agency. Do not call the police.” The last sentence was said in a slightly different, softer voice.
Mike listened carefully to the speech, and realized that it was becoming less monotone with each word.
He said. “What is your name?”
“I do not have one.” replied the girl. “What is your name?”
“Mr. Anderson,.. er. Mike. Michael Robert Anderson.
The girl blinked one time, slowly. “Hello Michael Robert Anderson.”
“What do you mean, you don’t have a name?”
“This unit is XK9-75-GRL Orange Chiffon Edition. You may provide me with another name, or not, as you wish.”
“This unit, I,” she continued. “am for you. If you reject this this unit, this girl, I will be for no one.” She paused for a moment. “I believe that would make me sad.”
Mike rubbed his chin and sat down in his recliner.
“What color hair do you like on women, Mike?”
Mike didn’t reply.
“What color hair do you like on women, Mike?”
“I don’t have a preference,” said Mike. “Well that’s not true. I like a variety is all. Black hair and red hair are both very sexy. Blonde hair can be too though.”
“Shit,” he said. “I shouldn’t even be talking to you.”
“Yes you should,” The girl smiled very slightly for the first time. “I need your voice for the imprinting process. This unit is provided with a neutral hair tone, which can easily be changed from one color to another. I will delay the production of hair until more data is available. In the meantime, this unit has come complete with a variety of wigs to use until hair production is at optimal.”
She turned, reached into the chest and drew out a small metalic suitcase. Opening it, she pulled out a short red page-boy wig and put it on. Though she had been quite attractive even when bald, she now looked so much more human and....”
“Beautiful,” said Mike, appreciatively. “Are you a robot? I mean, do you have a microprocessor inside you?”
“I am XK9-75-GRL Orange Chiffon Edition,” replied the girl. “I contain both a human brain, and a series of high speed processors linked to function in tandem, with on board memory appropriate to my funtioning.”
“Holy Christ!” said Mike. “A human brain?”
“Yes, Mike,”
The girl turned and began to scan her surroundings. “Where am I, Mike? Is this your domicile?”
“Yes, this is my house.” said Mike. “Look, stop calling me Mike.”
In his many years as a school teacher, Mike had learned to appreciate the formality and respect inherent in the using a person’s last name. It annoyed him when people he didn’t know– bank clerks, salesmen, telephone solicitors – called him by his first name.”
“Yes, master,” the girl said.
“No! Don’t call me that either. Look, for now, just call me Mr. Anderson, or sir.”
“Yes sir.”
Her eyes were carefully focused on his face, and when he looked at her, he could see her eyes dilating rapidly and her nostrils flaring, as if she were smelling him. “What are you doing?”
“ I am imprinting on you, sir. It’s an irreversible process. It is a process which will permanently bind me to you.”
“Holy Christ.” said Mike, and scrambled to pick up the manual. Maybe this would be one that he actually did read.
He flipped through until he found the section on imprinting. According to the book, the ‘owner imprint’ process was something akin to the doll learning your name and address and that sort of thing. The manual explained that XK9-75-GRL Orange Chiffon Edition would learn over time to master it’s environment and surroundings.
“This is just psychotic. You’re not a toy. You’re like a real person, ...with a real brain!”
The girl reached out with her right hand and softly caressed his face. “Please do not be upset, sir. I am who you want me to be. That is all that I want. Please let me be for you. I was given to you to do with as you please. I was designed with you in mind. I am for you.”
“I will show you my usefullness, ” said the girl. “I will fellate you.”
Mike sucked in a sharp breath. The girl quickly knelt and pulled at his belt. He placed his right palm on her forehead and pushed her head away.
“I don’t really like people I don’t know touching me,” he said.
The girl looked at him quizzically. “You do not want me to fellate you?” “Er. No.”
She smiled at him. “Are you celebate, sir, or do you have certain cultural prohibition against sexual activity of which I should be aware?”
“No, I don’t have any prohibitions against sex. Not at all. I just don’t like contact with people I don’t know,... usually.”
He reminded himself that he had been involved in a couple of one night stands in the last few years. Then he reminded himself that he really hadn’t enjoyed them very much. Yes, he was still truthful. He generally didn’t like lying, even to someone he just met.
“How is that imprinting going?” he asked, not knowing what else to say. “Is it done?”
“No, sir. It will continue for some time. But rest assured, I am yours. Totally. Completely. Irrevocably. For as long as I live.”
“Holy Christ.”
She smiled. “Holy Christ.”
“What about the hair thing? Or the name? What if I tell you something that I didn’t mean to, or something I need to change?”
“This unit has been designed to learn. You can easily change short term memory by just changing your mind. When situations and conditions change, this unit will change, will learn, and adapt to those new situations and conditions.
“Well, O.K. That’s a relief.”
Mike realized he was already thinking in the long term. He was thinking as if he were going to keep this girl. But then, what else could he do?”
“You are imprinted to me and no one else, right?”
“Yes, sir, ” she said. “I am for you, and no one else.”
She looked at him, this time with emotion in her gem stone eyes. With love.
“All mine.” said Mike. “Look, I’m going to go take my shower now. Will you be alright?”
“Yes, sir.”
Mike walked down the short hall, through his very messy bedroom, and into the small bathroom. Springdale, like the rest of California, had very high property prices, so even though Mike’s home was worth almost half a million, it was quite small for a single family home. And it was quite messy. It was always messy since Irene died. Once every few months, Betty came over to clean, but then again, Betty wasn’t a great housekeeper either. He shaved quickly with his electric razor, undressed, and climbed into the hot water of the shower. He showered at least forty minutes, mostly just standing in the hot water, trying to clear his head. At last the hot water was all gone. He climbed out of the shower, dried off, and brushed his teeth. He then got dressed and walked back down the hall, and into the living room. The girl was no longer there.
The girl was no longer in the room, but there were piles of trash bags, paper bags, plastic grocery bags, all filled with trash lined neatly up near the front door. He turned and entered the kitchen. The girl was there, on her hands and knees, carefully scrubbing his kitchen floor with a scouring pad. She was naked still, and her ass was towards him. Completely unselfconsciously, her legs slightly parted, her hairless and very beautiful pussy and anus exposed to his view, she scrubbed his floor. Mike once again felt a strong stirring in his pants.
“Beautiful.” he said. “Um, do you want to put some clothes on?”
She turned to face him, bringing her knees together, resting back on her heels. She looked up and smiled that loving smile. “I don’t have any, sir.”
“Well, there are some of my wife’s clothes in the bedroom closet if you want to use them. They probably won’t fit very well though.”
Irene had been on the chubby side, though Mike had never told her so. This girl had to be 38-22-35. Damn near perfect. Not to mention the fact that she was probably eight inches taller than Irene had been.
“Where is your wife, sir?”
“What?”
“Where is your wife, sir?”
“I don’t have one. I mean, she died about four years ago. You know, it would be fine with me if you remained naked while in the house.”
“If that would please you, then I would enjoy that.” the girl replied.
“Look,” said Mike. “I’m going to take a walk. I have this thing I started this month. I’m trying to get into better shape. Get a little more healthy. So I’m going to take a walk around the block.”
“Would you like me to come with you, sir?”
“Not this time. I’ll go walk. Why don’t you just kick back and relax?”
“Please, sir, can I continue my cleaning? I want to do something for you. I love you.”
Mike shook his head.
“You can’t love me. You don’t even know me.”
She looked at him, a slightly troubled look crossing her face.
“Yes, sir, I do love you. As much as any human being can love another, I love you. My brain is wired to love you. Whether you accept me or not, I love you with all my heart. I’ll do anything for you. Anything. Any thing at all.”
“That will be fine then. Go ahead and clean. This place is filthy anyway.” He looked around at the mess. “I’ll be back in an hour.”
Mike stepped outside and began his walk around the block. Despite his intentions, he walked neither very far, nor very fast. He was really out of shape. He had lost a few pounds over the last year, but hadn’t exercised. All that weight lost had been muscle. He arrived back home well before his hour was up. When he went inside, he found that the kitchen, dining room, and living room were cleaner than they had been in years. No, cleaner than they had ever been. The girl was waiting for him, still naked.
Mike sighed. Then he walked over to the girl and kissed her on the lips. Those lips were moist and inviting.
“Come with me to the bedroom,” he said.
The girl clapped her hands and jumped up and down with evident excitement. She followed him down the hall and into the bedroom. Mike instructed her to lie on the bed, while he removed his clothes.
Laying down beside the girl, he began to kiss her, while kneading her breasts. They were large, yes, but they didn’t feel like silicone. They were so natural. At least they felt that way. After a moment, Mike was fully erect. He climbed on top of her. She spread her thighs and wrapped her lower legs around his waist, then reached down and guided his cock into her pussy. It was wet and very tight. He pumped into her quickly, again and again, and shot his load of semen into her. He kissed her gently on the lips.
“Thank you,” he said.
“You don’t need to say thank you, sir.”
“Be gracious,” Mike said. “When someone says ‘thank you’, say ‘you’re welcome”.
“You’re welcome, sir,” she said.
“Um, just so you know,” began Mike. “I mean, for the purposes of your imprinting, sex with me isn’t always like that. I mean, I don’t want it to be. I just needed that. You know, to clear my head.”
“May I come, sir?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Mike. “Let me watch you come.”
She reached down to that glorious, perfect, hairless pussy and rubbed herself three or four times at the most. Then she arched her back and moaned loudly. Her stomach went as rigid as a board. Her body shook for almost five minutes. It was the most impressive orgasm that Mike had ever seen.
“God, you barely touched yourself,” he said.
“I was so turned on from being able to please you, sir,” she replied.
“That’s got to be your programming talking,” said Mike. “Why don’t you take a shower, I’m going to get dressed. I’ve got to run an errand. I won’t leave until after you get out though. You can take a shower, right? You won’t rust or anything?”
“No, sir,”
The girl went into the bathroom, turned on the shower and got in. There still wasn’t too much hot water, since Mike had used it all an hour before, but she was in long enough for Mike to dress in some slacks and a shirt. When Mike met her with a clean towel as she exited the shower, she positively beamed.
“Like I said, I have some errands to run,” said Mike. “I’ll be gone about three or four hours. I have my cell, it’s speed dial one from the house phone, so call if you have any questions or problems. Help yourself to anything you want to eat. I myself, don’t usually eat breakfast, but I think I have some cereal.”
“I don’t eat, sir, but thank you. All I need is water.”
“Only water,” mused Mike. “Well, you’re welcome.,”
Shaking his head in bemusement, Mike replied, and headed out the front door, locking it behind him.