Anon Buys a Rapedroid (Part I)

	Things at work had been hectic for Anon. Shutdowns across the country meant a near collapse in the economic system but, for him, a welcome (and generous) raise in pay and an equally generous bonus; his workplace suddenly became more than essential and his wages came to reflect that. It was a welcome change for Anon, finally able to watch his savings grow fatter and fuller without pinching and crimping in every aspect of his daily life, and he was able to finally fulfill a lifelong dream of his. He’d seen threads about them, new consumer-grade “nandroids” which could do all the work of a maid and more. The robotically feminine touch of a Sterling maidbot would be a welcome change to Anon’s “cozy” apartment, and she would certainly help to make it presentable in the event he snagged a lady over for a visit. The only issue was cost: while the bonuses and raises had certainly bumped Anon up in the world, they hadn’t exactly elevated him to true bourgeois status, and he wouldn’t dare dream of owning a brand-new, fresh-from-the-plant nandroid. He could, however, buy one used; it was a genius plan, the same robot for a fraction of the cost, and he could easily torrent or download an illegal copy of her maintenance book so he’d never have to worry about exorbitantly pricey repairs or updates.
	There was a pawn shop not too far from his flat, and a short walk down the street in the stagnant, summer air brought him to the place, just reopened fortunately. He opened the door with a welcoming chime, the gentle hum of the fluorescent lights a cozying presence. A husky voice welcomed him into the store, the mustachioed proprietor calling him over.
	“What’ll it be today sir,” he questioned.
	“I’m looking for some used robotics, something Sterling but not too pricey.”
	“Here, follow me.” The gruff gentleman led Anon into a secluded backroom, steel shelves holding a handful of different robots, outmoded models scrunched up knees-to-chin alongside their modern cousins. “As you can see, we have quite the broad selection of nandroids and domestic robots. Just point out what interests you and we can look over them from there.”
	Anon cast his eyes around the small concrete room, examining with interest the different specimens collected there. When he eyed the helpfully exposed price tags, however, he began to lose hope; even used robots seemed well out of his price-range as long as he wanted to keep most of his new earnings. It was at that moment he spied a single, isolated robot, stiff as a board and leaning into a corner, that grabbed his attention.
	“What’s the deal with that one,” he asked. Her eyes were blissfully shut and she seemed to be in near-mint condition, her auburn hair still untangled and her porcelain-white polymer exterior unblemished.
	“Oh, uh, that one was dropped off here at random by some rich fellow. Said she had, ‘some issues’. We tested her,” he said, glancing sideways. “And found no problems whatsoever.”
	Anon examined her for a price tag and, with some looking, found one; it was suspiciously cheaper than all of the easily worse-off ones in the room.
	“Something ain’t right here. What’s the deal with this one?”
	“I told you, nothing’s the matter with her! Just some programming… quirks, technical artifacts, you know the ones. Nothing a hard reboot couldn’t fix!”
	“Uh huh… Then why is she still so cheap?”
	“Well… You see… It’s a special offer! With everything going on, people have been after domestic robots that can do, safely, all their shopping and ‘outside stuff’. Given her, uh, youth I figured it’d be a good draw for enthusiasts such as yourself. Vintage models,” he said, gesturing at the collection of outmodes, “fetch a bit more since their market is among collectors of, shall we say, exotic automata. Yes, the one who’s caught your eye is no object to a collector: she’s too new.”
	Seems believable, Anon thought. He’d done his research beforehand and, indeed, there was a rather active collector culture for old robots. Any rich old fop who wanted a full ‘Timeline Collection’ of Sterling robots could expect the oldest to be the most expensive articles, requiring deep dives into junkyards, museum collections, and a sojourn or two to the local, seedy pawnshop. Anon was still a bit doubtful concerning her ‘artifacts’ however.
	“So you’re saying that she has some past memories? The ‘artifacts’, I mean.”
	“Not at all, all robots we take in are wiped. Sometimes, however, determined owners and modders will hard-code new routines for their robots, and those will be left behind. Small things, like owner itineraries or important phone numbers, family birthdays and the like. Nothing that will get in the way.” The man was starting to flush a bit and grabbed a rag to wipe his head. Anon noticed the latent heat in the room too, before he thought about the luxury of not only owning a Sterling nandroid, but one for so cheap; he’d be able to pass as a young mogul, lady-friends brought to his apartment would no longer be turned off by his sty of a home or his often-apparent wageslavery. He knew what he had to do.
	“I’ll take her, list price.” The man sighed heavily and began to relax.
	“Alright! Excellent! Go ahead and grab her and we can both be on our way.”
	As Anon left the store, he could only grin about how he had, for all intents and purposes, robbed the owner of a generous return on the nandroid. He carried her slung under his arm, her light frame no issue for him as he marched back towards his apartment building. Standing her up in the corner of the elevator he whistled a little tune, knowing full-well his life would only be going up from here. A few strange glances from fellow tenants did little to distract him as he unlocked the door to his home, stepping into the dark flat, the gentle scent of tobacco smoke and water-damage past flooding his nose as it had for years. He stepped into the tiny living room and propped the robot against the wall. He was lucky enough that the pawnshop guy had a spare copy of her operating manual on hand, saving him the risk and trouble of pirating sensitive Sterling information. Taking the thick booklet in hand he opened up her diagnostic panel on the back of her neck and, using a convenient paperclip, pushed in the restart button. He stepped back as the skinny robot came to life, her eyes fluttering open as her autonomous reflexes began to subconsciously flex each joint in her body, her internal processors silently and rapidly checking the status of her systems. With a contented sigh she opened her eyes fully; clearly all systems were nominal. She looked around the room and, with great surprise, locked eyes with Anon, her cheek spots turning a bright luminescent red as she stared at the man.
	“Hello, sir. My name,” she paused, still blushing. Composing herself she continued. “My name is Holly, and I am your personal Sterling-brand domestic care device. I am able to provide world-class infant and child care, as well as manage households with the utmost of cleanliness and efficiency. If you could direct me, please, I will begin working posthaste.”
	“Well, hello Holly. My name is Anon, and this is my apartment. I don’t have any kids,” he trailed off. Introductions were always awkward, and he could tell that even for an obedient robot she was especially uncomfortable. Perhaps this was one of the leftovers of a previous owner. “But, uhm, as you can see… I have a home? It’s a bit dirty… So I’d start by just picking up around the living room? Maybe?”
	With renewed composure she smiled and began to move about the living room with a commandeered dustbin, diligently clearing the miasma of trash that clouded the space.
	“Wait a moment,” he said.
	“Yes, Master Anon?”
	“I think I should give you a tour first, get you familiarized with my home.”
	“Very well sir, I’ll follow you.” Anon led the robot through his small apartment, to the equally small kitchen space and his quaint bedroom and ‘study’. As he brought her to a bathroom which was comparatively immaculate to the rest of the space he pointed to a sparse towel closet across from the toilet.
	“There’s an outlet in there, so if you need to charge your cable will be there. Sorry there’s nowhere else better for you, my closet’s occupied.” The nandroid paused, deep instincts of etiquette and common decency were beginning to churn and, subconsciously, she was mildly repulsed at the idea of an overnight charging in a linen closet. But deeper within her the cold, tiled bathroom brought up a latent sense inside of her. She clutched and pulled at her skirt as lewd thoughts stirred. Bathrooms meant baths, and showers, and… and Anon. Master Anon: naked, alone, vulnerable. Every morning she knew he’d come in here and disrobe, unknowing, innocent. She’d be up, surely, hours before; he would be expecting coffee and breakfast, he had mentioned that in passing as he toured her through the kitchen. He’d be completely defenseless, wholly unaware of her sneaking up on him, pinning him down, feeling him struggle uselessly beneath her…
	“Holly? Are you alright?” The question caught her off-guard; she looked at him with the sweet, unassuming eyes of a nandroid.
	“Fine, sir! Just… excited, so excited to be working for you!” That covered it well enough, she thought, but now is no time to be plotting. She knew full well she couldn’t just jump his bones (weak, human bones) all at once. She had to earn his trust, get him comfortable, complacent. Give it a week, maybe two, and he would be in the palm of her hand. Modifications to her chassis began to twinge in excitement, and Holly stifled a gasp of pleasure as the very idea, still forming, of conquering Anon repeatedly set her off. Anon continued in the background of her mind, explaining small minutia of his planned home maintenance, detailing his work schedule and conditions, emphasizing just how tired he would be every night on coming home.
	“Tired,” she thought, “tired is perfect. He’s weak as is, and he’ll be weaker when he comes home!”
	Anon gleefully wrapped up the tour and clasped Holly’s shoulder.
	“I’m glad to have you Holly, you’ll be a welcome addition to the… household. Yeah… It’ll be nice to have a woman’s touch around here, 	even a synthetic one.” He didn’t suspect a thing about the little nandroid before him, her unassuming smile lulling him into a false trust that she was all too ready to exploit, and viciously so.

	Holly’s first night was restless. She’d scrunched up into the closet and plugged herself in, knowing that just a few meters away and across the slim hallway Anon was fast asleep, all too ripe for the picking. She chastised herself for her impatience as the growing warmth between her legs begged attention. She resolved to satisfy herself with her fingers alone before she could claim Anon as her own; taking him as her personal fuck-toy would require cunning and guile, and time most of all. Before she reached down, she paused and traced her memories in her head. She had no recollection of past owners, though she knew full well they were out there; clearly they had taken a number of liberties in voiding her warranty before passing her on. She trembled in excitement before the conflict began to erupt in her mind; this she remembered. She knew she wasn’t like other nandroids, she wasn’t satisfied with simply taking orders and cleaning and being puked on, but that was still in her. As much as she had wanted to wrestle Anon to the ground and rip him free of his clothing (damn his clothes, holding him out of her sight!) she wrestled herself back. Her job was that of a servant, a maid of the household, a Sterling nandroid. Her fingers unpaused and crept lower to the modification of one past owner, probably some lowly degenerate who deserved to be raped, had she succeeded against him - she couldn’t know. Her decency retreated, the sense of maternal duty to her Anon diminishing as she began to rub beneath her white panties. Would she clean for him? Sure, for however long she had to. But when that jig was up, Anon would be her maid… her slave! NO! Whoever made her this way had neglected to pry her free of the childish filters of etiquette and ethics forced on her by Sterling. Anon was too kind to be a slave, she reasoned, her fingers pausing once more.
	“Holly, you can’t hurt him! He’s really, actually nice! For a human at least!” Her thoughts raced at what to do, the growing ache of lust battling against all sense of maid-ly normality. “He gave us this nice closet, and you could see how bad he felt for it! He’s misunderstood, you’ll see! He just needs some care…”
	“Oh, really? He’s nice? His first order was to pick up his trash, the absolute slob! He’s a pig, Holly, you owe him nothing! In no time he’ll be sleeping in this closet, and you’ll be charging in his bed!” The idea thrilled her, crunching anon into a ball and locking him in the towel closet, every night dragging him out only to give her maintenance or to please herself with. But she couldn’t stomach that thought either, inflicting that suffering on a human, especially one who had taken her in, was unconscionable. The heat between her thighs was too much to bear now, a deep longing for release overpowered her restraint. She toyed with herself, gently rubbing and stroking herself. She yelped loudly as her hand wandered too deep, and at once she pulled her hand back in surprise, arresting control once more. She locked her hands over her knees and tried to focus on resting and charging, charging and resting, but the sudden illumination of the bathroom caused her to recoil.
	“Holly? You okay,” Anon asked, swinging the closet door open. Holly was scrunched low on her bottom and looked up, bleary eyed and, to Anon, almost afraid.
	“F-Fine, sir, just a, uh, nightmare…” Anon was puzzled by this, he didn’t know robots could even sleep or dream, let alone have a nightmare, but then again she was one of the most advanced and ‘human’ models made to date.
	“Well, if you’re having trouble going into, uh, ‘sleep mode,’” he said, chuckling slightly, “you’re welcome to charge in my room. There’s an outlet there too, if you’re more comfortable with that.”
	Holly weighed the options in her mind, this outreaching vindicated her one self, proving he, Anon, was good. There was no reason to ever hurt a human, she knew this all too well, but this proved further Anon was undeserving of her sinister machinations. Her other self screamed in rejection, thinking it a trap, a ploy to woo her into submission, but her concerns were silenced when Holly, standing up, took Anon’s hand and followed into his bedroom, cord bundled in her arms.
	Anon, however, had a few more concerns. Not only were ‘robot nightmares’ seemingly nonexistent, but the reality of a single, lone man owning a domestic robot, and letting her sleep in his room would be an insurmountable challenge to his lady hunting. For the time being, however, Holly deserved his full attention so she could best settle in and get comfortable. He watched her nestle into the corner of his room, her softly glowing eyes and cheeks illuminating her small spot by the window.
“Tomorrow,” he thought, “I’m off. Maybe I should get to know her, get her more comfortable. That could help.” The little robot was on his mind as he drifted off to sleep, and the year of threads where he’d fantasized over having a Sterling nandroid swirled in his head. He had one; now what?