Wendy Shorts

Wendy Kiss (Alt Ending)
>"Is it true," the man asked, pleading. His eyes were narrow, savage, begging for it not to be. "Abnormal attraction...?"
>"Mark, I-," she stuttered, "You- You *know* I can't answer that..."
>He glared at the robot, her deep red hair, her gentle, cerulean eyes and that green, green dress
>His throat thickened, swelling as his eyes moistened and stared back at the robot
>She slipped backwards, afraid now, the man's eyes wild and manic
>She tried to flee, to escape the coming outmode report, but he grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her close- no more running, she knew
>Struggling Mark grasped her head, warm hands affixed to her temples as he smashed his face against hers
>It was amateur, glancing (smearing, more like) and out of practice
>But there was warmth behind it, a heat, no, a fire she hadn't felt from him until now
>He swung his hands to her back and pulled her close, whispering her name between desperate smooches
>"Wendy, Wendy," he muttered, practically squeezing the life out of her
>She laid her hands on his chest, the heavenly thump of his heart beating against her narrow fingers
>She balled his button-up in her hands and pulled herself into it, winded as she returned the kiss in full
>Wrapping her hands around his neck, ruffling his short hair, she yanked herself forward
>The mechanical muscle of her tongue broke into his mouth first, wrecking the place with a primitive apeishness she wouldn't even expect from humans
>But she loved it, every slobbery second and moan of intense love between the two reeling her deeper in
>Their fit of oral combat finished they held each other, on the edge of tears and so much more
>"I love you," Mark managed to cough out
>"I love you too, skipper."
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Wendy Meets Noelle
>"Tomorrow would be another day," Wendy reminded herself
>She stepped bowlegged, like a lost calf, along the sidewalk
>Her eyes were clouded by no real means- she figured she was going insane, the panicked jerk of her pseudolung only confirming this
>There was still work to do, and maybe some time away from home would be good, even if it was a little
>The idle chitchat around her was a jeering crowd, mocking her on her walk of shame, of horror away from the little apartment
>The smear of spit on her face stuck in the muggy air, wanting desperately to evaporate and leave the robot but failing, sticking sickly on her cheek
>With a jingle she stepped into the drycleaner, the owner's son ringing her up
>Bishop always liked the sketchy places, she tearfully remembered
>And now she was thinking of him as dead, nonexistent
>There was a man back home hurting beyond comprehension
>But she was hurting too, and until he could see that she wouldn't be able to touch him back like he'd wanted so desperately
>"Hey," a voice chortled. "Took you long enough. Wait's gonna be a bit."
>Wendy twisted her head up at another nandroid who herself cocked her head back at the vacant babbling in the rear of the store
>"O-Oh," she sniffed. "Thank you..."
>"So what's your deal? Owner try and bang you?"
>Wendy didn't process the remark, staring blankly at the other nandroid
>She wasn't joking, her stony face untouched by a smirk
>At least the inspector was embarrassed about implying it some, this was just shameless
>"Excuse me," she screamed, ready to relive this ordeal all over again. "I-ll have you-"
>"Cut it, it's not a big deal. Happens to a lot of us in this line of work."
>She swished her orange hair, pulling a cigarette from some hidden pocket
>She snapped a lighter beneath it and took a puff and another
>"Could nandroids do that," Wendy wondered. "I mean, the ash, the tar, the-"
>"Come, sit," the other beckoned
>Taking a seat not-too-close on the tobacco aged bench Wendy listened to the robot some more
>"I'm an older model, pretty obvious," she gestured with her hand. "But I've seen this a million times. From my owner more so, his son... so-so. You?"
>"His *son*," Wendy thought, recoiling again. "Do I *really* wanna say this, to her, *here*?"
>Remembering the adjustment to her hair, the dress, everything- yes, she did
>"Just my owner... His- our," she stopped, questioning; 'our'. "*Our* daughter- she's a joy, but he-"
>"Where's the mom?"
>"Divorced, gone most of the time."
>"Lemme guess...," she said, lining up the bullseye. "He hasn't let go yet? Yeah, pretty common- but does he love *her* her, or *you* her?"
>"Wh-What? I mean, well-"
>"Whose coat is that?"
>"Skip- His. His coat," she peeped
>"Okay... good start. Anything else?"
>She blushed, hand wrinkling around, still not sure about this whole ordeal
>Was this a clever Sterling plant? That inspector coming back for a field test?
>Not like it mattered- damned if you do, damned if you don't
>Time to let loose
>"'Anything else?' How about me wearing his ex-wife's clothes, wearing my hair like her, for him I don't think I have to add, and him trying to kiss me, like, now!"
>She'd let it slip all at once, a sickening glop of gossip pulsing and rolling on the bench between them
>But... sharing it with someone else felt good
>Maybe it was because she was an older model, but it was nice talking to her
>If she'd ever had a 'mom' that wasn't some burly, glasses-wearing teacher, she'd want them to be like her, this robot
>"That's it," the other snickered. She hadn't laughed this whole time, jerks of an older model diaphragm coughing up smoke. "You've got it easy, sounds like. I dunno cases like this-"
>"Sorry, 'cases like this'?"
>"Oh, yeah- ex-wife stuff makes people, *humans* weird about things. He'll come around. Probably. You're nice enough without your hair like that, so don't sweat it."
>"I'll... take your word for it," she stopped. She'd never gotten her name, same as her new friend over the phoneline. "What was your name again?"
>"Noelle."
>"Oh," she clapped. "Like Christmas!"
>Oof, Christmas- another twang in the motherboard
>Noelle didn't smile, only wagged the glowing stick around at her
>"So... uh," Wendy was pacing around to extend the conversation, not wanting to ask out of courtesy, but definitely-absolutely wanting to ask out of curiosity. "What're *your* owners like?"
>She laughed, a genuine laugh not some snide giggle
>A bell rang behind her, thickly accented voices calling out a number
>"You don't wanna know. Word of advice, though," she started, scooping up the dry cleaning. "Old people, old *men*? Nuh-uh."
>She sliced her neck with her free hand, cigarette discarded
>Stepping out the door with another jingle she disappeared out onto the steaming streets, a sunshower having come and gone in their talk to double the humidity
>Wendy stirred in her seat, bunching her hands together in her lap or burying them in the warm pockets of her coat
>*Her* coat, she reiterated, something from home to ground herself around while she thought, waiting on them to finish grabbing her clothes
>He needed time, she needed time
>And Nora would need some answers soon enough
>But that would come later
>After all, tomorrow was another day
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Wendy and Mark Maintenance
>”Alright, Nora’s been put to bed,” Wendy breathed
>Sauntering up behind her man she laid a hand across his warm back, heat radiating up and out through his dense wool sweater
>”Perfect,” the man smiled, unfolding a schematic in front of him. “Ready Wendy?”
>”You bet.”
>She pulled her hand away, already missing the heat on her fingers as she hopped up opposite him
>Cheeks simmering she pulled her favorite sweater over her head, hair ruffling to her dismay
>Guiding a few stray strands away from her sapphire eyes she grinned sheepishly at the man, a priceless smile as she let his eyes wash over her frame
>”It’s cold,” she shivered, running her hands up and down. “I miss that sweater already!”
>”Hey,” the man cooed, popping the first latches on her torso, “I’ll keep you warm.”
>The gust of breath on her neck sent her heart aflutter, pseudolung panting in anticipation
>*Maintenance*
>It had been their little ritual for months now, Nora early to bed (to the young lady’s chagrin) and the other two sneaking away hand in hand to the living room
>Mark would read off little snippets and factoids from her manual, Wendy’s cheeks flaring higher as she waved off the flattery
>The bulbs inside raged crimson by the time her torso-assembly was fully exposed, the man plying plates away to get to her machinery
>”Alright, first,” he began, “dusting.”
>Pressing a miniscule horse-hair brush beyond the threshold of her missing composite plates he swished to and fro, the robot peeping in time to his direction
>With each tender sweep a fuzzy cloud of static built around the individual hairs, the odd bits of dust inside clinging to it
>Pulling the brush away a crackle jumped to her spinal strut and zapped a yelp out of her
>Wendy’s hands shot to her mouth, cheeks sparking higher
>”*Gentler*,” she scolded. “You’re like a *raccoon* sometimes Mark!”
>Nodding the man continued, making sure to drift a finger in and relieve the static pressure as he’d forgotten, hoping to save the energy for a tap on her shoulder later
>Reaching in a painful arc jumped to the gold band snug around his finger and the hand yanked back, Wendy stifling little snickers at his expense
>He squinted impishly at her, brushing hard along her secondary struts and smiling like a madman
>Arching backward she threw a hand behind her for support, head spinning from his renewed assault
>”Ah- S-slower, skip,” she mumbled, trying desperately to arrest her voice
>”Just a little more, honey,” he laughed. “You wouldn’t believe the *size* of this dustbunny.”
>”Wai- ah!”
>He probed another finger in, squeezing past her primary power supply to yank the offending ball of lint out
>”Lookit the size of it,” he beamed, “I mean- ope!”
>A hand shot for his cheek, pulling his head up to meet her eyes
>”*Mark*,” she chided. “What have I said about listening?”
>Staring back he knew she was serious, deep blue eyes piercing his own and deeper to his vulnerable conscience
>”Right, sorry,” he offered, sucking in a deep breath. “I’m sorry- please, I-”
>”Hey, hey,” she cooed, resting her nose on his forehead. “Just follow my directions, okay?”
>”Okay,” he murmured, light fading from his face
>”Aw, c’mon- lemme see it.”
>Producing the sizeable mass in his pinched fingers she almost rocked back again, stifling a laugh at the month’s accumulation of dust
>”One for the record books?”
>”One for *Ripley’s*,” she grinned. “Now, about taking direction better, I think Nora stressed my shoulder a bit from the show last week...”
>Standing up and trading tools in his burly hands he gently spun Wendy on the planed tabletop
>”Alright Dee, which shoulder?”
>”Both,” she groaned, rolling her arms back
>A quiet jingling stopped the left’s smooth roll, Wendy wincing at the stoppage
>”Alright, coming in hot…”
>Screwdriver in hand he popped the narrow access channel open, eyeing carefully the single-file bearings inside
>Pulling the cover away a single ball popped out and disappeared into the carpet
>”Shoot, hold on-”
>”Don’t worry, vacuum’ll get it! I need your undivided attention anyways, *skipper*.”
>”Yes ma’am,” he peeped
>Pulling the rattling box of bearings over he plucked an orb from the roiling mass, tenderly dropping it into place beside its siblings
>”Oop!”
>”Alright, now try.”
>Swinging her arm forward the rattle and squeak disappeared, a spritz of lubricant joining the bearings in action together
>Clipping the cover back in place he slid to her other shoulder
>”And what’s the trouble here, miss?”
>”Same deal, sir,” she giggled. “A bit of tightness.”
>”Well let’s have a look-see then…”
>Gently tweaking the other cover away he was met with an immaculate sequence of little metal spheres, all lined up and rolling along in unison
>”Hey, uh, can you roll your shoulder some more?”
>The joint slid around near-perfectly save for a hitch one turn in, a miniscule yank to the motion of the twirling ball
>”Oop!”
>”That it?”
>”Y-Yeah.”
>”Closin’ in… got it!”
>Worming his fingers around he grabbed a long pink string
>Pulling it the thread mazed between the bearings it had trapped, Wendy squeaking as he brought it away
>”Goodness Wendy, surprised you haven’t plucked that sweater apart yet!”
>”Watch it, Mark.”
>”Alright, alright,” he retreated. ”Just a few more stops.”
>Rounding her head he quickly checked her ears, swishing her hair aside
>Her charging port clear he traced his way down her arms finding nothing more amiss, her legs just as pristine
>”Any trouble in the hip joints, miss?”
>”I’m afraid not, *perv*,” she tittered
>”I’ll have to take your word for it... Now, about that last step-”
>”Yep, on it.”
>Peeling the last of her plates away she bore herself down to the naked frame, cheeks alight and dancing in Mark’s walnut eyes
>Lifting a slim can of compressed air he worked his way from her fingertips to the shoulder again, a puff here and a puff there tidying her limbs and cables
>Each tickle of air forced a hand to Wendy’s mouth, trying to hold back the bubbling giggles at each windy sweep
>Finally, after an agonizingly comedic cleaning, Mark set to work clipping her plates back into place, the silent glide of plastic over plastic music to both their ears
>Wendy yanked her sweater overhead, taking care to keep it clear of her snapping shoulder
>”Time for bed?”
>Mark glanced at the oven clock, green letters screaming it was far too early for that
>Grinning he swooped behind the robot
>”Not just yet.”
>Scooping Wendy up in his arms, her lithe hands pulling at his chest in futile resistance, he carried her triumphantly off to their bedroom
>”Hey,” she spat, “what’d I say about-”
>”Listening. I’m listening, Dee.”
>”Then put me down!”
>”I’m gonna choose not to listen to that.”
>”And I'm gonna choose not to do *that thing you like*.”
>His eyes shot wide, flipping her vertical again and setting her down
>”Thank you, skipper. Now, *bedtime*.”
>”Wait, what?”
>”You heard me,” she purred, wrapping a hand around his waist and pushing him into their room. “I think I’d like a second opinion on my hips.”
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Wendy/Mark Movie Night

>Front door of the apartment snipping shut, the narrow robot sauntered through the front hall and dispensed of her jacket next to Mark’s
>”Nora over at her friends?”
>”Yep!”
>”Perfect,” the man said, slipping out of their shared bedroom. “So, what’s the plan for our *night in*?”
>”Well it’s funny you ask,” she giggled. “I did happen to pick up something on the way home.”
>”We’re ordering tonight, you don’t gotta cook!”
>”Oh no, we’re still ordering, just…”
>She revealed a tiny plastic bag from behind her, a squarish blue logo failing to hide the blocky VHS inside
>”Movie night?”
>She nodded happily, pulling out the blocky tape, still swaddled in its flimsy cover
>”Working Girl,” Mark read, squinting. “Aw Dee, I- I’m not huge on romance movies, you know th- oof!”
>Jabbing an elbow into his side she slipped past him, setting her prize on the kitchen counter
>”You’ve dodged movie night every weekend for the past month! Mark Wendell Bishop you *owe* me.”
>Middle name, trouble, time to stall- he regretted ever slipping that to her but he was in too deep now
>”Well… can we at least wait a bit? ‘Til the food’s here?”
>”Fine,” she breathed, sulking off. “But *you* can order.”
>Mark really *had* been putting this off, and seeing her step away, huffing, to the living room broadened the hairline crack in his heart
>He hated to see her like this, each weekend bringing home a new film that he’d put off- ‘too tired’ or ‘headache’ tossed to her as he skulked away, another tape added to the hefty pile building behind the VCR
>He did owe her, he knew, picking up the phone to dial in some place that delivered
>Maybe tonight could be the night, if the movie was right

>The night, however, was already spiraling out of control; his favorite pizza joint’s only delivery boy had been missing for days- ‘pickup only’ the snarky Italian gentleman explained
>”Hey Wendy,” he mumbled out to the living room
>”What,” she sighed
>”They’re, uh, only doing pickup tonight, you wanna come with?”
>She paused, swishing the idea around in her head
>Best case she could warm Mark to the film on the drive, worst case guilt-nudge him into it anyways
>”Okay,” she snipped, still upset
>Sliding around him and back into her jacket she followed him out the door, ready to gnaw his ear off about listening, ideally enough to drag him to the couch for once

>”So…,” he started, eyes dead ahead. “How’re things?”
>”Fine,” she smirked. “Excited for the movie.”
>”Oh yeah?”
>”If you’ll join me.”
>”What’s the movie?”
>”Mark you read it out loud,” she groaned. “‘Working Girl’. That one. I’ve mentioned it to you at least half a dozen times already.”
>”Right, right, sorry- It’s just… you know I’m not about that fuzzy stuff, like-”
>”Mark it’s not fuzzy,” she huffed, “I know you’re *terrified* of a little warmth, but-”
>”Hey,” he murmured, resting a hand on hers. “I’m not afraid of *everything* warm. Just hold up a sec.”
>Hopping out the driver’s side he jogged up to the front of the humble pizza place that he’d, by her estimations, poured thousands into over the years
>Knowing how Nora was eating before she’d shown up, *tens* of thousands was probably more accurate
>A lone dog whirled around on the concrete, seeking refuge from the thickening drizzle outside beneath the awning, orange neon lights painting his scruffy, waiting face in shades of caramel
>A hoppy pop anthem danced in the car, a hit from years ago still gracing the airways
>”At least you’re having fun, Cyndi.”
>Turning her head she saw Mark, head wet in the deepening rain, jog over to her side
>Flinging her door open he popped the pizza in her lap
>Back in his seat he twisted the radio’s knob down a touch
>”Alright, all ears,” he panted, twisting away from the curb
>”Well first of all Mark, a large? Really?”
>”You know Nora’d kill me if there weren’t leftovers tomorrow!”
>”She’s probably having pizza over there, pizza again seems excessive.”
>”It’s the weekend, let her have some fun! Now,” he sniffed, “about this movie.”
>Twisting the wheel he weaved about in the dense city traffic, working his way back home as quick as possible
>With Wendy cooking it wasn’t every night he could grab a slice or two from that heavenly shop
>”Well… what about it?”
>”What’s the story?”
>Sighing again she knew she had to dress it up for him
>Spotting in her errands a healthy barrage of advertising for it, even reading some of the preliminary reviews in the paper, she knew it wasn’t his type
>It certainly was hers though, and she refused to sit down again for something like their first, and so far only, movie night
>As much as Mark enjoyed it, “A Bridge Too Far” wasn’t really her cup of tea
>”Well… It’s about a businesswoman.”
>”Oh?”
>”Yes. But the men around her don’t *appreciate her*.”
>He hummed and nodded, slipping between a pair of bickering taxis
>”Don’t *listen to her*.”
>”Uh-huh…”
>”And then they ship her overseas and she joins a circus.”
>”Right.”
>”Mark! You’re not listening again!”
>”Wendy, I-,” he sniffled, “I’m sorry I’m just trying to focus on the road. It’s slick and-”
>It was slick, the moist black streets bouncing back the arrayed rainbow of streetlights onto her face, her ears undeafened to the rap and drum of rain on the car
>”I’m sorry,” he apologised, the light red. “Please, I’m all ears.”
>”It’s about a secretary and her… *adventures* in the world of business. I can’t say I know a lot because we haven’t seen it yet. But it’s not fluffy.”
>”Aw Dee you don’t gotta worry about that, I’m just not a huge movie guy.”
>”Well it’s not about the movie! It’s about spending time together…”
>”I think it’s at least a little bit about the movie.”
>He was right; as much as Wendy could appreciate Sean Connery’s acting the subject matter didn’t click with her
>Nora’d love it, though- when she was older
>”Well, maybe. But I wish you would just say what’s wrong, instead of focusing on… blowing me off. You’re not gonna hurt my feelings.”
>”Dee the last time I didn’t focus on your feelings, well...”
>He let that hang there, hesitating to roll the window down and clear the dry, stuffy air
>”Mark,” she turned, eyes piercing him again. “It hurts me more if you keep… keep *hiding* yourself like this! It’d mean the world if you’d sit down for this with me.”
>Green light spilled over the two of them, Mark silently pushed the gas, hands gripping the wheel and face draining of color
>It was mute for a moment, Wendy the first to opt for cracking a window, Mark for cracking the silence
>”...So she’s an accountant? Or a businesswoman?”
>”Secretary. Well, more a receptionist.”
>”There’s a difference?”
>”Well, obviously!”
>”Hey, I didn’t know!”
>”Don’t you have one at work,” she laughed. “Maybe you could learn something new tonight.”
>The two snickered at their exaggerations of what the movie’d be about, more laughs and pokes played between them on the shimmering city streets
>Windows rolled up again, the car having gotten much too cold for either’s taste, they were swaddled in the cushioning hug of warm air on their return home


>”Pizza still hot?”
>Wendy paused, an inferno dancing on her fingertips
>”Yep! On the counter!”
>”Perfect. You got the movie?”
>”Already wound up!”
>Grinning he flopped a pair of simmering slices onto a plate, an indulgence that had become painfully rare with Wendy around
>Not that he minded any, but it was certainly nice to have something *un*healthy every now and then- ‘only as a treat’ he’d remind the concerned nandroid
>Slipping up behind her he laid his dinner down, the plate steaming quietly on an end table
>Hopping overtop the couch, a trick he was still young enough to accomplish, he smooshed his way between himself and Wendy
>Giggling she hopped up and pressed a tiny button on the player, the last lights in the living room extinguished
>Whirring to life the VCR started the film, a flash of federal warnings and a selected handful of advertisements preceding their feature presentation
>Wendy clasped her hands together at the sight of their obvious main character, her blue eyes and poofy hair an instant hit
>Mark, more interested in his pizza at the moment, would ask her to catch him up in a moment
>”Hey,” she tapped. “*Hey*.”
>”Mmf-”
>”You can watch and eat at the same time! Gosh, I-”
>”Ish gooh pisha,” he gulped. “You can fault me once I’m done.”
>Ripping off another bite, shrugging innocently, he turned his attention to the glowing television screen
>A cascade of events was playing over his loud chewing, Wendy poking him with her elbow to simmer down
>Their charismatic hero had a new boss, a *woman* who would finally get her, treat her as the equal she knew she was
>Already though they were split, a skiing accident dividing the duo as the other was sent to housesit for her mentor
>Cascading down the hero realized how her boss had stolen her ideas, fleeing home to see her only respite in bed with another woman
>Wendy was ready to twist her head at Mark and direct his attention to the scene
>Plate empty his eyes were glued to the screen, silently watching the spiralling down of the woman’s life
>Reclining in the plush couch Wendy, satisfied, relaxed, leaning into the arm swung over her shoulder as he leant in too
>”Wait, hold up a moment,” he whispered. “Can you pause it?”
>”Wha- Mark!”
>He rolled his eyes at her, hopping back over the top
>”You’ll thank me later.”
>Skipping off to the rest of the apartment Mark disappeared, Wendy choosing to focus on the movie as her favorite character commingled with some business types, especially the target of her merger plan
>Wendy peeped in fright, cheeks flushing as the lady awoke in a strange bed, horrific revelations rushing through her and the nandroid’s heads
>”I’m back, you can unp- Wendy!”
>”I didn’t think you’d care!”
>”Well of course I care, that’s obviously not her apartment!”
>”Here I’ll catch you up, you *grump*,” she giggled, patting the couch beside her
>Shimmying past her he took his place, olfactory sensors picking up a whiff of mint as he sidled back to his spot
>Falling into the couch’s corner he swooped his arm up and over her shoulder, pulling her close
>His hands were dense and hot, burning through her sweater to the robot beneath
>”Sorry, I-”
>”No sweat, I can figure it out.”
>Between whispers and shushes Mark pieced the few minutes he was gone back together, excitedly watching the film play out
>Wendy leant back into his arm, nestling underneath his shoulder as the film pushed on, their dynamic hero now a duo again
>Briefcase in hand she forged ahead with her newfound partner, the merger blooming ahead of them as they seized on new opportunities to solidify their plan
>Busying themselves together they roused the interest of their target, a meeting planned and processed
>Wendy pulled herself up again, head resting atop his shoulder as they watched the blushing pair dance around the other, keeping their embarrassed distance for fear of being burned
>The fateful moment comes, Wendy clenching her hands in her lap, Mark pulling her closer
>Their pitch was a rousing success, a followup meeting already proposed and ready
>In the whirlwind of it the sunny woman and her sharp-faced partner scooped each other up and eloped, escaping away to his opulent apartment
>Mark shifted his hand lower, down to her hips, the cold absence on her shoulder replaced by a growing, gasping heat in her core
>Wendy wanted to peep, to gasp, the stutter of her pseudolung catching in her throat as Mark craned his head left, peppering her exposed neck with little kisses
>”Oop- *Skipper*!”
>He shushed her, the tickle of pink fleece on his chin pushing him up to lay one on her warming, fiery cheek
>Hands sliding lower he thumbed the waistband of those jeans, *her* jeans before stopping
>”You okay?”
>”Y-Yeah,” she stuttered, “just- slowly.”
>Humming in agreement he plumbed an inch further, hand cupping the prominent ball joints that dominated a nandroid’s hips
>And Lord were they *hips*
>When he’d offered her the derelict wardrobe of *her* she was hesitant, but that pair of jeans got Mark mushy in a way she had yet to process
>Not that she minded; she knew, and she knew *he* knew, that she wore them better anyways
>Dipping his hand low, past the seam of her Sterling-standard underwear, he cupped the joint in his hand
>Now, by all means a nandroid needs to know when and where they’ve been touched, and how hard
>Sterling nandroids had alerts for damage and other unwelcome contact across their body, especially in pinch spots like the hip joint Mark was running his fingers over
>How this manifested, though, was certainly not pleasing to the practitioners of the current moral panic
>There was a flutter in their electronics, cheeks would flush red in alarm and coy pleasure behind a stuttery yelp or rare moan
>Some programmer had a field day playing around with responses to touches from maintenance, something Wendy and Mark had discovered in each other’s arms months before
>It was something she found herself discovering all over again, the clustered heat in her chest pounding at her struts and weakening limbs, Mark macking on her neck as he groped his hands around and deeper
>”You’re so beautiful Wendy,” he whispered, hot breath shimmering by her ear
>She wanted to return it, to topple over him and take control but it was too *good*, his broad hands running gently over and around, careful not to get pinched like times before, finding her weak spots like always
>Her cheeks flared higher, eyes darting from the screen to him, trying desperately to keep to the film
>Peeping again she watched the pair on the television lapse into their own amorous whirlwind, Wendy surrendering to Mark’s advances, pulling his head low and into a kiss of her own
>Both shuffling on the couch around the other, the movie long forgotten, they coiled into themselves
>Mark’s robbing hands held her warming plates, the soft whir of her fan whistling between them as their night-in came to a rolling boil
>”Here, let me… there.”
>Unbuttoning her pillowy jeans he pulled them down some inches, slipping away from the curvaceous bump of her hips and exposing her pelvic assembly in full
>The thin sky blue of her underwear removed in turn he set to work with his fingers
>Not every portion or piece of a nandroid needed an allen wrench or paperclip to remove, and with the press of a finger he snipped away her pelvic plate
>The exposed machinery beneath was prey to his heavy hands, gentle strokes and brushes of his fingers sending Wendy higher
>Panting for breath she urged him forward, the press of his fingers rooting about inside begging him to pick up the pace
>Working harder towards the edge she forced her hands out, scrabbling for support where she could find none
>Taking purchase on Mark’s back she pulled him in for a last kiss, locking their lips together as she fell over the programmed precipice inside, fatigue consuming her as she sank into the couch

>”I think we missed quite a bit,” Mark snickered, pointing at the flustered heroine apologizing profusely and retreating from a conference room
>”Well who do we have to blame for that,” she huffed, working her jeans back up, head still light
>”I think we’re equally culpable, miss,” he sniffed. “Looking like some major legal trouble for the both of us.”
>”I think we’ll be fine, so long as you *behave* yourself.”
>Dropping another peck on her cheek he pulled her attention back to the television
>”Let’s see where this ends up.”
>”Yeah,” she beamed, already curling up into his thick shoulders. “We might need a rewatch though…”
>”Not if we’re talking,” he shushed
>Smirking he turned back to the humming television, the receptionist falling back and gathering her things to leave
>In an instant she was in the elevator, her partner and lover from before standing by her in the presence of the *other* stoic businessman
>Frantically she explained her situation, all her ideas and how she came about them
>The about face was in motion, Wendy roused and giddy for the flip she saw coming
>And then *she* came, sharp nose and roaring brown hair stalking into the elevator to reprimand her inferior further and cast her out
>But when she was pressed, challenged on her lies, she crumbled and conceded
>Wendy pumped a tired fist in the air, victory achieved
>Snuggling deeper into Mark she murmured her praise, battery near-drained from another long day
>Sighing happily, her blonde hero strolled into an office of her own with a secretary, no, *partner*, of her own to work with
>Not to mention another rough-faced partner to come home to, wide shoulders delightfully reminiscent of where she was laying her head right now
>Settling into a teetering slumber as the credits rolled, Mark pulled her into his arms, gently lifting her up and out to their bedroom to charge
>There was a lot to do tomorrow morning, Saturday; Nora needed to be picked up, leftovers taken care of, chores and errands were piling up from the week, and so much more
>But none of that bothered her, dreams setting in for the night
>She had a partner of her own to rely on now, settling into bed while he plugged her in
>Charging was important, sure, but each night all she needed was her Skipper to hold her in his warm embrace, stroking her hair between whispers of his love, to remind her of how great tomorrow would be
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Short Lewd Wendy
>quiet midwesternish mom
>her man is gruff, always away at work
>spends each day waiting for him to come in through the door, showers him with hugs and kisses
>needs more than that, though
>tags behind him to the bedroom once Nora's to bed, better if she's at a friend's
>little peeps as he inches her jeans down, runs a hand over her hip joints
>cheeks aglow he clicks off her pelvic assembly plate, a shy giggle shared between the two
>Usually it was just a brush, sometimes his fingers
>But craning his head down, nervous, he tried something new
>"Oh, Mark," she sputtered, "th-that's- ooooh..."
>He nudged his head around, tracing the insulated wires with his tongue to their terminals
>A zap here or there was worth it to hear her moan, back arching as she laid back on their bed
>Nosing deeper she simmered down, a hand cupping her mouth in surprise
>"It's like a *battewy*," he smirked, head popping up
>A hand on his head pushed him back down
>"N-No jokes, not yet skip..."
>"Ohtay..."
>Dropping his head again he swirled around one of the maintenance ports near the hip junction, the tangy buzz on his tongue matching a low growl from the ladybot
>Pulling a hand up from its place resting on her thigh, he cupped one of the joints carefully
>Thumbing along the neat groove around its circumference he continued, Wendy throwing her hand down to grab the comforter, wrinkling it in her tense hand
>No use being quiet, she thought, Mark plowing recklessly ahead
>Little jumps of her pseudolung shot out as weak, panting chirps, the responsive locking of her legs straining against his neck
>"M-Mark, I'm-"
>He bobbed his head an inch, the go-ahead clear as day
>Pulling his head back up he locked eyes with her squirming face, both hands at the ready
>One toyed with the relative sensitivity dial, the other gently circling one of the local gyroscopes
>A flick of his finger sent it spinning, Wendy's right leg slackening over his shoulder
>Arm freed he pushed hard with his left, Wendy wailing in response
>Arms reaching down the bedspread towards him she urged him on, the quiet coo of "Skipper" helping her to the edge
>Pulling himself up off his knees he loomed over her, arm resting above her head as he dropped a kiss on her sweltering cheek
>The other arm was still at work, tracing his own way up from her heaving hips to the navel section, a gentle press pulling the twin plates apart at the seam
>Plumbing a finger in he affectionately rubbed the primary vertical strut, Wendy babbling quietly in the shuffling silence while his fingers plumbed deeper still
>She was there already, only held in the soft embrace of his eyes, wide nose flaring in concentration
>"M-Mark," she shuddered, eyes half-liddedly locking with his. "K-Kish me..."
>A weak hand brushed the back of his neck, beckoning in
>Drooping his head lower he planted a kiss square on her face, the two's lips forced together as he pressed one of the dominant nerve centers along the strut
>Back spiking up again Wendy squirmed in place, limbs heavy and voice muted against her skipper's lips
>And a good thing, too
>Had he not been there they'd have woken up more than just Nora
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Wendy Versus Wen-li
>"Wendy, I'm ho-"
>"Mark!"
>"Mahk!"
>The man had just passed the threshold of his little apartment, turning away from the coatrack to see his nandroid exchanging blows with another robot
>Thankfully Nora was still in school (picking up a club kept her out late, lately) and Wendy with more time home alone
>Time spent, to Mark's widening eyes, fighting off her... clones?
>"The hell's happening here?!"
>"Dear husb-"
>A pale, composite hand blasted across the other's face, the smack of plastic on plastic cracking through the kitchen
>"Get off me you- you *bitch*," Wendy shrieked, rolling on the ground with her bobbed counterpart
>Their ruffled red hair was identical, the narrow fingers and lithe legs perfect mirror images
>Save for the missing cheeks and simpler eyes Mark's nandroid Wendy was clenching her twin's arms in her tightening hands
>It didn't help that the doppelgangers uniform was a far cry from mimicry, the oriental style suit ripped apart, its five buttons clattering over the linoleum floor
>"Quit it," Mark screamed over their continued thrashing, his deep voice ripping their heads away from each other and to him. "I can't say what's going on here, letalone why, or how, or whatever the hell else-"
>"Skip-"
>"Hold it, please- way we settle things like this is through a little *brawn*, not a- a cat fight."
>"Mark it's pretty obvious who's who here," the sweatered nandroid frowned
>"Yes, it is," her counterpart added, smiling as she wrung the other's hand into her face
>"Get up, *now*, and *slowly*."
>Pointing to the kitchen table the two shuffled quietly into place, silent save for the subtle scrape as they fixed their respective bobs
>"Alright, girls," Mark began, nose flaring in suppressed, simmering anger. "This is going to be simple, easy and quick. Okay?"
>The two nodded curtly, Wendy's panicked eyes narrowing without question, bouncing between Mark's grim face and the intruder across from her
>Bridging their hands together in a sharp arch he looked between them, winking to Wendy as she pulled her sweater back over her opposite shoulder
>Settling her roaring, anxious insides between shaky pulls in by her pseudolung she clasped her hand tightly around the narrow-eyed foe facing her
>She'd hastily collected her buttons back up, dumping them into the top-left of her four pockets, the little popcorn bulges staring at Wendy on top of her soulless, unblushing (cheekless, really) face
>On some of the rowdier family game nights, between greasy slices of pizza and raucous, screaming matches of Monopoly Mark and his young daughter would come to the classic match of leveraging blows, arms pitched against each other as Mark put up a faux struggle against his mighty little girl
>Wendy, against any better Sterling sense of etiquette, would begrudgingly join in, her arms inevitably failing to resist for fear of hurting her or Mark, when he had his turn
>Those ones were fun, arms perfectly still and unstressed as Nora yawned, waiting for one to pitch the other down
>Now though, her arm tensing against her foe's, she felt no such courteous hindrance in her head
>Only the raw, savage hate someone attacking her, her *family*, could summon
>She superimposed the sly, demonic face of the Sterling doctor over the hideous mockery of her own face, fingers wriggling in anticipation
>With a snap they began
>Even with all the credos and advice the little red book could muster her arm struggled to push beyond the stressed balance they were stuck in
>Wendy flared her mouth open and shut, forcing her hand to the stressing point as she winced in pain, the sickening twist of her arm struts pushing her further
>The beleaguered pant of her pseudolung followed the inexorable downward inch of the Maobot's arm, the flex and bend of her own arm cracking under Wendy's assault
>Inferior aluminum framing finally gave way, the arm breaking clean within its synthetic sheath as her arm was slammed to the wooden tabletop
>Howling in pain the robot yanked her limp arm backwards, the fractured struts rattling around and tearing the delicate nerve-wires to her hand
>"Get the... hell out... you impo-"
>"Jesus Wendy your arm!"
>Through the howling shrieks of the robot on the ground Mark launched himself over, cradling Wendy's twisted arm in hand
>"Skip don't worry about the damn thing," she breathed, "get *her*!"
>"Shit, right!"
>Hefting the struggling robot over his shoulder he catapulted her out the open kitchen window, the defenestrated robot cursing before cracking apart on the sizzling pavement
>"Phew," he panted, "should we call the cops?"
>"...Better not," she smiled, hand on her forearm. "Nora wouldn't believe us anyways."
>"Well what about your arm, Dee? I mean-"
>"It'll be *fine* Mark, it's only a couple degrees or so," she guessed. "We'll tell her I got it stuck behind the fridge."
>"Wh- Well, if you're fine I'm fine."
>"Still doesn't explain why this happened..."
>"Yeah, y'know that's a good question."
>"Question for another time," she sucked through her teeth, "might need a touch up on the *receivers* here."
>She gestured to her arm, just bent and throbbing in her head with alarmed pain
>"Right, sorry!"
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