My Girl Imogen
By Matt Penn
CHAPTER TWO:
Mike was still in shock over the whole situation. Imagine someone sending him a programmable woman. And what a woman. She was about as perfect as a woman could be. Tall and lean. Large, perfectly formed breasts. Lithe arms and legs. Flat stomach. Mike had only known her for a few hours, but he could already see her face in his mind. Perfectly formed, intelligent forehead. Large, dark, very sexy eyes. A strong nose. Thick luscious lips and perfect teeth. Strong cheek bones. Perfect jaw line extending down to an almost pointy chin. She could easily have been a fashion model if not for the double Ds. As it was, she would make the perfect centerfold for Playboy or Penthouse.
He almost wanted to turn his Chevy Malibu around and return to look at her some more, but he had things to do. He had to drive twenty miles to the town of Greendale and check his daughters house. She had left him a key, while she went to visit her in-laws in another state, and left him strict instructions on the care of six dogs, two cats, a gerbil, an aquarium full of fish, a turtle, two hermit crabs, and a frog. Not to mention numerous house plants. He decided that while he was out, he would stop at Sears and pick up some clothes for the girl. Something that she could wear out at least to go shopping for more clothes. He had to think about a name for her too. He couldn’t keep thinking of her as ‘the girl’, and he really didn’t want to think of her as ‘the robot’.
While Mike was gone, XK9-75-GRL Orange Chiffon Edition continued her cleaning. She had gotten the kitchen, dining room, and living room clean, but not as clean as she wanted them to be for Mr. Anderson. She cleaned those rooms until they met that level of perfection ingrained into her programming. She then moved on to the other rooms. There was the hall, which required little work other than some dusting and vacuuming. She cleaned the two bathrooms. Then the bedroom where Mr. Anderson had joined with her in sexual congres earlier. There were two other bedrooms in the house. One was a teen-aged boy’s room, though it had obviously been some time since the boy had been there. The other had once been used as a bedroom, but was now crammed with all manner of stored stuff. The attached two car garage was likewise filled with household leftovers, with only enough room to carefully fit a car in. The girl cleaned the boy’s room, and vowed to begin work on the garage and the storage room at the earliest opportunity. The girl sorted all the laundry, which included almost everything that Mr. Anderson owned, then tossed the first load– the whites– into the washer.
Once the immediate work was done, she began to investigate the mystery that was Michael Robert Anderson. She started his computer and explored his browser cache. She noted that he visited web sites focusing on politics, history, and science, as well as games, comic books, and porn. She cracked his porn folder password easily and made copious mental notes about his preferences in sexual functioning. She was happy that there was no child porn, not because she had any judgement to make, but because in the course of her cleaning she had found that Mr. Anderson was a teacher, and she was happy that this would cause him no problems. She was also gratified to find no pictures of men, because she would have been unhappy to not be able to cater to those desires.
She carefully examined the downloaded pictures in the porn file. Forty percent were lesbians engaged in cunnilingus, though there were no other lesbian pictures. Twenty one point two percent of the pictures showed women engaged in fellatio. Six point seven percent of the pictures showed women playing with anal toys. Of the women themselves, there was a healthy mix of blondes, brunettes, and redheads. Mr. Anderson really didn’t favor one over the other. However sixty two point seven percent were completely hairless below the neck, and the remaining thirty seven point three percent had very little body hair. Fifty six point three percent of the women had tattoos and Fifty six point nine had body pierces of some variety. Seventy four point nine of the women had very thin, carefully arched eyebrows.
She initiated her hair growth, causing the tiny folicals planted in her scalp to begin their growth, but she made the internal adjustments to insure that all of her body below the eyebrows would remain completely hairless. She then went to the bathroom, found a pair of tweezers, and plucked her eyebrows into a thin, high arch.
She began carefully examining the books in the house. There was a bookcase in every room, including the bathrooms and one of the closets! Almost all of the books had been read, or at least the spines showed that they had been opened to each page. Many books on science, geography, and literature, as well as science fiction and detective novels. She identified thirty books that showed more use than the others, including Mark Twain and two massive volumes of Shakespeare. Of those, four books– Tarnsman of Gor, A Princess of Mars, Maia, and one of the Shakespeares had been carefully annotated throughout.
She examined his Tivo and looked for marks in his TV Guide, which she found, to determine what types of television shows he regularly watched. He had a large collection of DVDs too. All showed that his taste in video followed almost exactly his taste in books. She examined his CD collection, noting that few of the CDs had been recently purchased, and then the mp3 files on his computer, which indicated that he had been purchasing his music online rather than on CD of late. She committed his favorite songs and artists to memory.
As the time of his expected arrival neared, she finished sorting his bills, laying out the filled-in checks and envelopes awaiting his signature, and then balanced his checkbook. She was unsure if he would eat while he was out, so she prepared both a late lunch and an afternoon snack, so that either would be available for him. For Mr. Anderson. For Sir.
Mike was much later than expected. And he had eaten lunch. However the afternoon snack was perfect. He marveled at everything the girl had accomplished. When he said so, she beamed once again. When he showed her what he had purchased for her, her eyes welled up with tears. He had stopped at Target rather than Sears on the way home and had purchased a teal color pleated skirt and two sleeveless tops, one teal and one black, for that layered look that the girls were all wearing lately. He hadn’t realized it at the time, but with this girl’s long legs, the skirt was a very mini mini.
“Is something wrong,” Mike asked, when he saw the tears.
“It was so sweet of you to buy these for me, sir,” she said. “I love you so much.”
Mike ate his snack, while the girl modeled her clothing. As she twirled around in her mini skirt, she made his cock stiffen even more than when she was naked.
“I’ve decided that you really need a name,” said Mike.
“I made a list of possible names for you, sir,” she said, running to get the list from the other room.
“Well now, a name is a very important thing,” said Mike. “I want to be careful to give you a name that is neither stupid nor inappropriate. You should see the names that parents give to the kids who come into my class.....”
She sat the list of names in front of him.
“Wow, these are pretty good names. Mostly. I don’t really care for Milla or Portia. But if you like these names, I could definitely pick one from this list.”
The girl had in fact, collated the list by cross referencing the characters from Mike’s favorite books, the actresses from his the movies in his DVD collection, and from the singers in his CD and MP3 collections.
“Oh, this is perfect. Unusual, but not weird. Exotic, like you. Pretty,” Mike smiled. “I’m going to name you Imogen.”
“Imogen,” she repeated.
“You know, one of my favorite actresses and one of my favorite singers are both named Imogen too.”
Imogen just smiled.
She left him alone for a few minutes as his food settled, but then Imogen approached Mike demurely.
“Mr. Anderson?” she asked.
“Could I have some money?”
“What for?” he asked.
“I want to buy some food,” she said.
“Oh, yeah. I’m sorry about that,” Mike said. “I haven’t been doing much shopping lately, just living by myself. Wait a second, you said you didn’t eat.”
“I need the food to prepare meals for you, sir,” she said
“Oh, alright. Let’s go to the store.”
Locking the front door behind them, Mike and Imogen climbed into the Malibu. With Mike in the driver’s seat, they pulled out and headed toward Springdale’s small downtown.
“Can you drive?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.” Imogen replied.
“That’s good. I mean I usually prefer to drive, but it’s good that you can.”
Imogen smiled happily and leaned over and kissed him.
“What was that for?”
“Because you are wonderful and I love you.”
“You’ve known me what, eight hours now?”
“I love you as much as any human being has ever loved another.”
They stopped at the local Super Walmart. Imogen pulled item after item from the shelf, filling the basket from an internal shopping list. Mike looked on approvingly. Years ago, he had prided himself on being a pretty good cook, and had spent his Sunday mornings watching the food network. It was clear that this girl knew what she wanted to cook.
“I think we had better go buy you some panties, too,” said Mike, seeing a shapely ass cheek peak out from the mini skirt. “I should have checked to see exactly how much money I have in my checking account.”
“Fourteen thousand sixty two dollars and fifteen cents,” said Imogen.
“You’re kidding,” he said, as he watched her shake her head solemnly. “I don’t think I’ve ever had that much money in my account at one time.”
Thinking about it, Mike realized that he hadn’t done anything that required money in the last four years. Hadn’t bought any new games. Hadn’t gone out to eat. Hadn’t gone on a trip. He had just paid his bills, watched his favorite movies on DVD and read and re-read his favorite books.
“Alright,” he said. “Pick out enough clothes to wear for a couple of days. Then we can go to the mall and get you some nice things.”
They spent the next half hour looking through and selecting clothes. Imogen chose six tops and four mini skirts, one pair of very tight shorts, and one pair of jeans that looked as though they were painted on her ass. She also picked out a half dozen thongs, of the smallest variety Walmart carried, which much to Mike’s surprise, were quite small.
At the check stand, the cashier looked at Mike and asked him. “Didn’t you use to teach at Midland?”
“Yes,” Mike replied, not adding that he still did.
“I think I was in your class,” the cashier said. “That was a long, long time ago.”
Mike just nodded his head pleasantly and paid the bill.
“Is this your daughter?” asked the cashier.
“No....” said Mike. “She’s a friend.”
The cashiers mouth made a little ‘O’, but she didn’t say anything more. On the way out, Mike noticed a few people watching him.
As they piled the purchases into the trunk and sat down in the front seats, Mike was quiet.
“Well, that’s it,” said Mike. “It’s always going to be like that. It’s always going to be weird.”
Imogen just sat smiling into his eyes.
Nobody will ever believe that a fat old man like me could ever meet a woman like you. They’ll think I kidnaped you and drugged you or something.
Tears welled up in Imogen’s eyes and spilled down her face. Her lower lip began to quiver.
“What’s the matter?”
“Mr. Anderson, please don’t talk about yourself that way. I don’t want to hear anyone, including you, say that you are old or fat. I love you.”
She reached across the console and sobbed into his chest.
“Alright, fine,” said Mike. “I know what I am, but won’t say those things in front of you.”
This did not mollify Imogen, and she sobbed most of the way home.
Only when they arrived back home and Imogen began cooking dinner did she seemed completely back to herself. She prepared a dinner of caesar salad, lightly breaded orange ruffy, and garlic new potatoes. For desert, she made a satin chocolate tart. Mike had eaten many good meals, but he had to admit he was impressed. He didn’t think he’d ever had anything that good outside of a cruise ship or one of the finest restaurants he’d ever been too. When he said so, Imogen blushed sweetly. Afterwards, Mike watched television, while Imogen cleaned the dinner dishes.
As Mike took his pills and undressed for bed, Imogen asked.
“Would you like me to fellate you now, sir?”
“Girl, that is just not going to be possible,” Mike replied. “I know you don’t want me to say I’m old or fat, but let’s just say I’m not in the best shape. There is no way that a man in my condition can go again today. Probably not tomorrow either. I wouldn’t mind if you could sleep with me though.”
Imogen smiled widely.
“I can’t wait until I can sleep with you, sir” she said. “But I have to spend my first seven nights in my compartment, recharging my temporary power cell. After that period of time, I can function indefinitely from my internal fusion generator.”
“Fusion,” said Mike. As a teacher he was pretty aware of the current level of technology in common use around the world, and fusion power wasn’t part of it. “Where did you come from.”
“I am for you, sir,” said Imogen.
“O.K.” Mike said, kissing her, and heading off to bed.
That night, as Mike slept, Imogen cleaned the boy’s bedroom and began straitening the storage room, while doing all the rest of the laundry. At three AM she climbed into her metallic coffin-like chamber, replaced the tubes and sealed it shut.
At exactly Five AM, the crate unsealed again and the girl unhooked herself and stepped back out. She took a shower then used special instruments in her metal suitcase to clean all of her body’s orifices. She combed her red wig, replaced it in the case and put on a black shoulder length wig with low, even bangs, brushing it out as well.
At six, she completed her work in the storage room, and began straitening the garage. By ten thirty, she judged that she had the job half completed. Although she remembered that Mr. Anderson did not usually eat breakfast, she fixed him some hot tea and an everything bagel with cream cheese, just in case.
At eleven she carried the food on a tray into Mike’s bedroom. Mike was already half awake and to his surprise was sporting a tremendous erection. When Imogen saw it, she sat the tray down on the bedside table and began to stroke his hard on.
“Alright,” Mike said, opening his eyes. “Go for it.”
The girl needed no more invitation than that. Pulling down Mike’s shorts enough to release the largest hard on that he had had in years, Imogen began tickling the tip of his cock with her tongue. She then began sucking and slurping, bobbing her head up and down, working the base with her clenched hand.
Mike’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. He had never had a blow job like this. His wife had licked his cock, because she thought she should, but she was never really into it, or any other sex acts for that matter, and she hadn’t been very good. Neither had any of the one night stands that Mike had had since Irene died. In fact, the only time that a woman had made him cum with her mouth, was when he was dating his first girlfriend as a teenager, and that had probably been more a result of pure teenage horniness on his part than any skill on hers. This was different though. Imogen’s pussy had been tight and wet and wonderful, but her mouth was all those things, and she worked it. She pulled and teased and sucked, and before Mike knew it, he was crying out and shooting his sperm into her mouth.
She continued to suck and stroke all through his orgasm, until he thought she might be sucking his soul out of his body. At last, as he lay gasping, she raised her head and licked her lips with a look of pure satisfaction on her face. Mike just lay on his back gasping for eight or ten minutes.
“My god,” he said, finally, “I’ve never felt anything like that. Are you that skilled at any other sexual activities.”
“All of them, sir” she replied.
Mike did eat the bagel and drink the tea. He took off his shorts, which were all that he wore to sleep in, shaved, and took his shower. When he got out, Imogen handed him a towel fresh from the dryer. By the time, he had shaved, brushed his teeth, and combed his hair, she had laid out his clothes for the day. He didn’t have much in the way of clothing, but he thought the clothes she had chosen were the ones that made him look best.
“Imogen,” asked Mike, “are you skilled at picking out a wardrobe. I mean new clothes. For me, I mean.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied.
“Good,” said Mike. “We are going to the mall, and we are going to get a good looking wardrobe for you and me. I can’t look like an old fart if I have such a beautiful, hot,......girlfriend.”
Imogen leaped across the room, grabbed Mike, and began smothering his face with kisses. They both fell backwards onto the bed. Imogen planted her full lips on his and kissed him, then pulled back and smiled.
“I’m your girlfriend, sir” she said.
“Sure,” said Mike, struggling to get up. “And by the way. I like when you call me ‘Mr. Anderson’. It reminds me of old time couples who called each other by their last names. And I like it when you call me ‘sir’. In fact, it’s pretty damn sexy. When you are talking to anyone else though, you can refer to me as Mike, you know, if it’s someone we know.”
She looked as though she had been awarded the Nobel Prize.
Mike got up and went to the bathroom. Just as he was pulling his pants up, the phone rang. He was just walking into the living room, when Imogen answered it.
“Hello,”
Her eyes flashed at Mike as she said. “Yes, Mike is here. May I ask who is calling? This is his girlfriend.”
She stopped and listened for a moment. The she said. “Just a moment,” and handed the receiver to Mike.
“It is Mark,” she said.
Mike grabbed the phone.
“How is my son the general?”
“Don’t start all that.” said the voice at the other end, “tell me all about this lady!”
“Well, how would you feel about your old dad dating a young, hot, beautiful babe?”
“I’d feel great about it.” came the reply.
“Good, cause I am!” said Mike, laughing.
“Can I tell Betty?”
“No!” said Mike, “I’ll tell her when she gets back from her trip.”
Father and son chatted and exchanged news for several minutes, and then Mike hung up the phone.
“I bet he’s calling Betty right now,” said Mike. “Come on, let’s get going now.”
“Does the back bedroom belong to Mark, sir?” asked Imogen, on the way to the mall.
“It used to,” Mike replied. “I have been planning to make it into a gym, but just haven’t got around to it. The other room was Betty’s. I was going to make that into a game room, but so far, it’s just become a trap for all the crap in the house.”
It was an hour drive to the mall, because the closest good one was in the nearby city of Pico Mundo. Imogen spent the entire drive holding onto Mike’s arm with both hands, and pressing her face onto his shoulder.
At the mall, the two entered by the food court. Mike bought them each a smoothie, and they began to circumnavigate the mall stopping at each clothing store to see what was available for either of them. Mike let Imogen make all the decisions on purchases for either of them. They had barely begun when Imogen stopped in front of a store that sold inexpensive jewelry and accessories.
“I want to go in here and get my ears pierced, sir,” she said.
Mike nodded in approval.
“I’d like to get each one pierced at least three times,” she said, watching Mike closely to gauge his reaction.
And he did react. He almost dropped his smoothie. Imogen’s eyes dilated momentarily as she recorded this detail.
“And I would like to get my nipples pierced,” she said.
This time, Mike did drop his smoothie, which hit the floor, burst open, and soaked his left pant leg. Imogen immediately rushed back to the food court and returned a moment later with two handfuls of paper napkins to help Mike wipe himself off, and to clean up the floor. When they were done with the mess, Mike looked at her.
“Do you really want to do that? Get your nipples pierced, I mean.”
“Would you like it, sir?”
“Yes,” said Mike, “I would like it very much. I don’t think they do that here though.”
When Imogen looked as though she were going to pout, Mike said, “Well, don’t worry about it. Just get your ears pierced here. We’ll take care of the other tomorrow. Besides I need another day. Because when I see you like that, I am definitely going to want to fuck you silly.”
He lowered his voice for his last three words, but even so heard a snort of indignity from a couple of passing old ladies. Imogen giggled.
Mike got another chance to see Imogen pout though, which he was beginning to enjoy because she was so damn sexy when she did it, because the store would only pierce her ears once. They told her she would have to wait six weeks for the next piercing. However, she smiled broadly when Mike complimented the two small silver studs that peered out of her (today) raven locks.
They had quite a load of shopping bags, by the time they made their final stop at the lingerie store. Mike sat down and waited while Imogen gathered her selections and then stepped back into the changing booth. She stepped out again and again to show off tiny lacy bras, thongs, and some very hot little lacy things called tangas, as well as little garter belt ensembles. With her lean and perfectly toned body, her stunningly chiseled features, and bedroom eyes, Mike thought she put to shame the giant photos of the models wearing the same things plastered across the wall of the shop. By the time that she was done, a sizable audience of men, some ignoring the women that they had come in with, were gathered around to watch.
Mike decided that it was time to head home. Gathering all of the items that Imogen had tried on, he sat them next to the register and, when the clerk had finished ringing everything, he paid for them. Both smiling, the two of them made their way out of the mall and into the parking lot. The sun was going down. They had spent the entire day shopping, and had spent almost three thousand dollars on clothes.
“I don’t think I’ve spent that much on clothes in a year, let alone a single day,” said Mike.
They reached Mike’s Chevy and opened the trunk to put away all of their packages. Then Mike heard a voice behind him.
“Give us the packages and your wallet.”
Mike dropped the shopping bags and spun around. Two men, both in their early twenties stood there. One was white, the other Hispanic. They both had shaved heads and they both carried butterfly knives.
“Maybe we’ll have some fun with your little girl, too,” said the closest one.
Mike snapped into action. He dived at the punk who had spoken last. Seeing a chubby grey-haired missile heading straight at him must have startled the hoodlum into inaction. Mike hit him square in the chest, and the both went down onto the pavement. As they did so though, Mike felt the knife blade penetrate his stomach. The punk hit his head hard on the pavement, but he still managed to push Mike off of him. He was already on his feet while Mike was still rolling around on the parking lot.
Just as Mike was finally regaining his feet, he saw Imogen planting some kind of karate kick to his assailant’s neck. The other hood was leaning against a nearby car. It was obvious from the way he was holding himself, that she had already dealt him some heavy blows. She was about to remove the second tough from the fight when she saw the blood streaming down Mike’s shirt. With a shout she rushed toward him. When she did, the two would-be criminals took off between the cars as fast as they could.
“That’s right!” yelled Mike. “Run, you pussies!”
“Mr. Anderson!” gasped Imogen. “You’re bleeding!”
“It’s nothing,” said Mike, his eyes starting to roll up into his head. “but I think I’m going to pass out.”
Mike felt Imogen guiding him to the ground, so that he wouldn’t bash his head on the pavement. He tried to say thanks, but didn’t know if he succeeded or not. Then everything went black.