Anon Buys a Rapedroid (Part II)

	Holly’s first night was rough, to say the least. She’d stood in the corner, cord draping to the floor from her back, and watched Anon intently, his chest gently rising and falling through the night, the incessant urge to make some move or advance at him, to grab him while she could, overwhelming. At some time early in the morning, her battery already well charged, she unplugged herself and gathered the courage to creep forward. Her maidly inhibitions melted away as she sidled up towards the man, his white tee-shirt held close to his body. As Holly crept every closer he stirred, rolling over with a momentous sigh of new-found comfort. The small maidbot froze in place for an instant, ready to dive beneath the bed or, were time to allow, to the corner. Fate, however, smiled on her as Anon slept on. She was at the side of the bed now and she stood, towering, over the man. She knew full well were she to try anything there would be dire consequences, but she had to try something. Gently, almost imperceptibly slow, she raised her arm to brush the shoulder of the snoozing man. He shuddered groggily and reflexively pulled the covers a little tighter but he was, mercifully, still asleep. She carefully sat on the edge of the bed, savoring the warmth of Anon’s shoulder as she lightly petted him.
	“Holly…” Holly pulled her arm back with a start - he was awake. She swiftly pulled herself from the bed and beat a retreat to her corner. As soon as she made it, however, she could plainly see that Anon was still fast asleep - evidently he was a heavy sleeper. Holly breathed a sigh of relief before making her way back to the bed. She chastised herself for her carelessness but was distracted by the softly heaving form before her.
	“Humans,” she thought, “are so very interesting.” With a tap of her finger into his arm she confirmed her curiosities. “Hm, yes, very soft.”
	Sitting down once more she positioned herself just aside Anon, close enough to hear any inopportune stirrings and to get a good cop or two of his body before his alarm inevitably went off (the hussy). As she delicately stroked his arms up and down the warmth from his body, coursing just beneath the skin at dozens of times a minute, she felt the all-too-familiar heat building in her lower chassis. She scolded herself mentally for her imprudent thoughts; her lusts were getting too violent already and she had to repeat nandroid-school mantras about patience and nursery virtues to calm herself. For the moment, just feeling his warmth would have to be enough.
	“Holly,” he muttered again. She pulled back once more, ready to make her escape, but she paused as he continued; he was sleep talking. “Holly, it’ll be okay… I’ll take care of you…”
	She was caught off guard at the slurred message, but she knew his concern was genuine. Some version of her was caught in his mind, trapped and alone, and he was there to protect her. Her nightmare shtick was a last resort, but clearly it worked.
	“He’s… He’s worried about me.” A pang of guilt struck through Holly’s little central processor as she watched the sleeping man. She sat up and placed a kiss on his head before returning to her corner for the night. The neon glow of the clock read 3:47; just two or so hours to go.

	A harsh beeping ripped Anon from a fading dream, the dim light of early morning peeking through the blinds as he fumbled blindly for the alarm’s off button. Slamming aimlessly the cheeping finally stopped and Anon sat up. With bellowing yawn and smacking lips he opened his eyes to see the his new nandroid, chargi-
	“She’s not there.”
	“What?”
	“She’s gone.” Clearly Anon was still dreaming; she’d had a nightmare and he had chosen to have her sleep in his room, somewhere welcoming to the wayward robot. And now she had disappeared. Anon slung the covers off and sprung from the bed, slapping his face and pinching himself as he rushed into the kitchen. He paused, red-faced, as he watched the little nandroid crack a handful of eggs and beat them vigorously. He breathed a deep sigh of relief, and this sudden noise made Holly jump a bit.
	“Oh! Good morning, sir! I took the liberty of making you breakfast and coffee,” she beamed at him. Her cheek spots flushed with maidly pride as she ushered the groggy man into the kitchen. She sat him down, gently, and placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. Sipping it nonchalantly he watched the little robot bounce in place as she tended her eggy ward. He’d close his eyes for an instant and she could be gone. She’d been in his home for less than a day, and for all he knew she was loaded with malware out the wazoo, but there was something about her he wanted to protect, to nurture. As he nursed his fatigue with sparing sips of coffee he smiled as she brought over his breakfast, smiling back at his dour face. He managed a weak grin just for her as he contemplated all the worries he’d heaped on himself with this latest purchase.
	Holly stood expectantly, hands clasped at her front, as she waited for him to make a move. It took him a solid ten seconds before he noticed her deepening gaze and the weighty expectations it held, and he hastily shoveled a forkful of the hot eggs into his mouth.
	“You have to eat them all, sir! You need energy for work today. We don’t want you coming home tired and weak!” Anon smirked as he took another bite; they were quite good, but then again she was built that way.
	“Why are you doing this” Anon said between yolky mouthfuls. “It’s a Saturday. Special day off. Meaning I can cook for myself.”
	“O-Oh! So you’ll be here… all day, sir?”
	“A nightmare, I know.” The little robot was blind sided by his highly relatable self-deprecating humor.
	“I-It’s no trouble, sir, maybe today you can teach me more of my duties.”
	“Yeah, that seems like a bright idea,” he paused. “Problem is I don’t really have too many jobs for you. At least nothing serious.”
	“Meaning, sir?”
	“I just need you to do simple stuff: clean up, make breakfast, do the dishes. Laundry would be helpful but that’s downstairs. It’s really not a huge deal.” Anon began to realise, slowly, the sheer novelty of having a nandroid, especially for one with an apartment as small as his - clearly these robots needed wide open mansions to roam and clean at all hours of the day and, by comparison, his home was a cage. His worry for her only compounded.
	“W-Well, sir,” Holly began, trying to work a way to get an advantage on him, her maidly precog-cycles fading to the background. “I could run a shower or a bath for you, sir! Hygiene is most important, especially now!”
	“Nah, I don’t shower in the mornings on weekends. I have a ‘system’.”
	“A ‘system’, sir?”
	“Yeah, a system.”
	“Fascinating.”
	An engulfing silence filled the space between them as they looked away from the other, clearly not sure what to say next. An empty plate and mug complemented the quiet before Anon stood up, dishes in hand, and made his way to the sink. Holly grabbed his shoulder firmly, relishing the touch, before admonishing his lack of consideration for her sole job as maid. She took the pieces from him and got to work cleaning up her station in the kitchen, returning the cluttered space to the bachelor pad idyll it was before, save for some extra space and fewer empty cans.
	“Well, Holly, I don’t really have any plans today besides sitting on my ass,” he said, the profanity eliciting a blush from her end. “So if you want to learn anything just holler.” He stepped away from the linoleum-floored nook to the couch a few yards away and plopped down with a sigh, intent on spending his precious time off in front of his TV. Before he could turn it on, however, the little robot was behind him, leaning over the couch arms-crossed, head just inches from his.
	“What are you going to watch, sir?”
	“I dunno, you have any favorite *programs*,” he returned.
	“No, sir, nandroids aren’t made with a love for television. Sorry to disappoint.”
	“No, get it, progra- oh, nevermind. Here,” he patted the cushion next to him, beckoning her over. “Don’t worry about working all day today, it’s the weekend.”
	Holly paused, terrified of the implications of being so close to a human, no less a potential victim. So long as she kept her distance, and made her best effort to perform her maidly tasks, she could go about her day without a care for the lustful twinges she’d become intimately familiar with. On the one hand, it would be incredibly rude and borderline insubordinate to reject his offer: on the other, it would put him in danger to oblige him and sit on the couch. Running over protocols for child de-escalation, compromise algorithms, and all manner of ‘making things work’ she found an opening.
	“Here sir,” she said, pointing. “I’ll sit here on the floor, it’s really no issue! This way I can see and, er, hear the TV better!” She quickly rushed over and nestled herself in the corner of the L-shaped couch, positioning herself as far from Anon and as close to the TV as possible; had her memories not been wiped she’d have been able to cover more convincingly but this would have to do.
	“Okay…”
	With a click the set sprang to life, an older CRT model that had somehow chugged forward through the decades and into the small living room in the one-man apartment.
	“You like sports Holly?”
	“Sp-Sports, sir? Oh, yes, sports are great! I love when the teams… do the things… and then with the, uh, points,” she said. She covered her mouth after a nervous giggle slipped out, and Anon yelled at himself for springing so much on her when she, clearly, had no memories of anything sports related other than ‘the points’.
	“Here,” he said, flicking to a fuzzy image of jersied men running up and down a pitch.
	“This,” he pointed to emphasize the lesson, “is football.” He spent the next few minutes pointing out the players, the strikers, midfielders, backs and so on, enunciating multiple times how it was a ‘hands-off’ sport. As the game progressed, and Holly learned the rules, she began to get more invested than Anon, calling out players (on both sides) for clear infractions of the rules as Anon had explained them, and began to deride the ‘uncouth’ behavior of some of the young men on the field. It was starting to get a bit much for Anon as she readied increasingly vile insults for the troublemakers on the pitch. He was ready to change the channel when her angered diatribes were quieted by a close-in, if grainy on the TV set, shot of the players: young, with heaving chests and lean bodies, and drenched in sweat.
	“They look like Anon,” Holly thought. “This isn’t good.” She quieted down as she hugged her knees to her chest and prayed for calm, closing her eyes and hiding the screen.
	“You okay, Holly?”
	“F-Fine, sir! Just upset about this match,” she laughed.
	“This is not a laughing matter,” she screamed internally. She felt it again: that rising heat, the biting itch that had rooted itself in her nether regions, the most un-maidly and impure thoughts and feelings a nandroid could have. And she couldn’t stop them, either - the urge to rape, to touch herself, to do anything to relieve the pressure growing inside her was monumental. She let out a stifled gasp as her sensitive self chafed against her panties, the cotton fabric growing slick.
	“Holly?”
	“I-It was a fine pass sir.”
	“Yep.”
	“May I be excused? I believe I left my charging cord plugged in!”
	“That’s not a problem, just leave it.”
	“O-Oh sir,” she lunged forward, steadying herself as she stood. “B-But it is! Ph-Phantom drain is one of the leading causes of excesssssive electric bills! Please let me take care of it!”
	“It’s okay Holly, calm down. You do what you need to do to feel comfortable, okay? You’re worrying me.” And that was it, that pushed her just enough back from the edge of edges that she could compose herself and retreat from the hothouse of the TV room. Anon was equal parts fire and ice to her, there to get her worked up and overheating at the drop of a hat or touch of a hand, but his words soothed her raging hunger, and let her fight back for the first time in her memory (which was not that long, to be fair). As she walked back into the bedroom she made sure to cover her story and unplug her cord, and she breathed a deep synthetic breath as she centered herself, the urges retreating in the absence of Anon or his sports programs. She crept to the bathroom and made sure to stealthily make herself presentable, taking care to hide her damp panties somewhere secure; they’d have to go in the laundry, but that would have to wait. As she piled a towel over them and closed the linen closet door, remembering her short time inside it, she heard a great expletive from down the hall.
	“Fucking shit,” screamed Anon. Emmy blushed instinctively at the words and recoiled, her anxiety building at whatever was the matter. She rushed down the short hall back to the TV area and found Anon, on his back but just getting up.
	“Everything alright, sir,” Holly called over to him.
	“Fine,” he shouted back. "I just slipped in something, knowing me I spilled something and didn’t even know it.” Holly fought back her deep embarrassment; this was no accident. Anon was an unfortunate victim of the first of many such mishaps and slips caused by Holly’s reckless co-program. She hurriedly moved to help him up and moved past him, rubbing his back, to dry up the incriminating puddle before it was too late. Anon stretched and creased his back, sighing, before returning to the couch with an exaggerated drop. Holly bunched up the paper towel in her hand before binning it, rising once more and moving to the fridge.
	“Some ice, sir?”
	“I’ll be fine, just need to rest a bit. It wasn’t that bad a fall, okay?” This reassurance, her programming could tell with ease, was a common human tactic to deter care; her Sterling instincts drove her onward with a sense of duty, but a creeping thirst was coming back, and with a vengeance.
	“Hot water, sir, is excellent for falls, bruises, and cramps. I recommend you take a hot bath this instant for a speedier recovery. I would be personally responsible if you were not in peak condition to not only work come Monday, but to train me to be the best Sterling domestic care assistant I can be!” She had carried it perfectly, he was practically in the palm of her hand and, icing on the cake, he was a bit weaker. The purer half of her less-than-default mind cringed at the very thought of manipulating human suffering for personal gain, but the deeper animalist stirrings in her applauded her guile and cunning.
	“That… That sounds good,” Anon said. With a smile Holly led Anon to the bathroom and readied the bath, running the tap and preparing towels, every little detail to maximize his comfort and her contact with him. As Anon reached, wincing, upwards to remove his shirt, Holly seized the opportunity to ease his arms upright and pull his shirt over his head, revealing his bare torso to her. She jumped with renewed warmth but soldiered on towards his pants before a firm hand stopped her.
	“That, that’s enough Holly,” he said. “You can go now.”
	“Y-Yes, sir. Please, take a long soak for your sake and mine.”
	“Will do.”
	As Holly left the bathroom Anon locked the door behind him, and she could hear the hushed grunt of him maneuvering himself around, the cloth-on-tile ‘flooph’ of dropping pants, the lapping water sloshing about as he got in the tub. She hadn’t planned on a slip-and-fall, but she had worked him perfectly to a spot where he was vulnerable, alone, and in no position to resist. The only barrier to her was the locked door but, to her delight, there was a slim hole in the knob through which she could peep.
She glanced through into the sterile white bathroom, the gentle roar of the fan running as Anon, between sighs and gasps, stretched his back in the hot water. Emmy giggled at his open-air comments about ‘the stuff’ as he reclined in the tub. The lust inside her emerged full force, but Holly knew now to take precautions; she was trying to rape Anon, not paralyze him. Returning to her kneeling position at the knob, washcloth beneath her, she hiked her skirt up with one hand, and moved the other slowly downwards, her metal fingers were intensely cold on the synthetic folds, and she shuddered at the touch, but once her hand was down there she couldn’t pull it away. She worked her hand up and down, up and down; each stroke elicited a little yelp or coo of pleasure, too quiet for Anon to hear but thunderously loud in her own mind.
	“You’re going too slow!”
	“We shouldn’t be doing this…”
	“But he’s so dreamy… so *rapeable*”
	“What would Mr. Sterling think of us, me, doing this?”
	A veritable civil war was brewing within her, the amplified shame and guilt at using Anon as her own eye candy began to overwhelm her lusts as she slowed down, her other hand loosening its grip on her skirt as she calmed herself. But then, Anon arose out of the water, fully nude: Holly hadn’t been keeping track of the time but it had to have been only ten, fifteen minutes of him, soaking quietly, and her, jilling off (less than quietly).
	“H-Holly?” With a start she ripped her hand away and ran down the hall - her response had to sound not too close.
	“Yes, s-sir?”
	“I’m, uh, my back hurts a bit! I’m just gonna lay down in here! Don’t worry about me just watch TV or something okay!”
	“As you wish, sir! Do you want a pillow?” There was a pause.
	“I’ll… I’ll manage!”
	Relieved, she returned to her spot at the doorknob. She watched with bated breath as Anon, hunched over, walked over to the linen closet and grabbed a handful of towels. Holly watched in suspense as he stooped low and grabbed for the towel covering her discarded undergarments. She was ready to wail bloody murder to stop him, but he stopped himself the instant the angle became too extreme, and he opted for the myriad of other towels above him. One by one he laid out a mat of towels and, rolling one into a convenient tube, laid down on the floor on his back, and closed his eyes. She hadn’t gotten a good look at him before in her haste, but compared to that glimpse this was the mother lode. He was just... laying there, exposed. His member was by no means what she would imagine of someone pathetic enough to live alone and buy a nandroid, by all means it exceeded her expectations and then some. This threw her into a fervor, she pulled her skirt up once more and worked her hand down once more, ready to close the deal. She wove her hand in and around each gentle crevice and slope of her robotic womanhood, finding the small crowning bump and circling it with her finger. Jolts of electric pleasure made her tense up and convulse, her fingers moving on her own as she humped the air, her replication breathing quickening with each empty thrust. She moved a pair of fingers inside herself and began to thrust in and out as she watched the same rise and fall of Anon’s chest, himself staring at the ceiling completely unawares of the heinous act happening just outside his bathroom. As she fought harder and harder she found herself short of breath, even for lack of lungs, and the pounding of a heart not present drummed in her ears. She battled herself, the shame, lust, anger, modesty and all as she felt each individual jolt of joy work itself from bottom to top. As she felt a great exhaustion in her circuits, she felt herself nearing the summit of a great mountain, the apex of her endeavors so far. She worked a thumb in one direction, circling, as her other fingers continued. She peered through the keyhole one more time to spy anon’s form and saw him pacing restlessly, stretching and arching his back in full view, as if displaying himself in a peepshow just for her. With one last shuddering gasp she drove her hips into the air as a great release fell over her; her legs wouldn't respond to any input as she knelt there, hand over her mouth, the last shocks of pleasure leaving her mind. As she collapsed backwards she breathed deeply; a great weight had left her chest as she squirmed on the floor.
	Snapping to attention just a moment later she knew she had to act fast. Her prudence had paid off and her artificial mess had been neatly contained to one of Anon’s towels, one he, hopefully, wouldn’t notice was gone. She balled it up and scampered, bow-legged, to the bedroom and searched through Anon’s closet. There she found a singular hamper, half-full of soiled clothes and cruddy garments. She took a deep breath before plunging her hand into the very core of it, concealing the evidence of her crime within the confines of sweaty gym shorts and sauce-stained shirts. The fatigue was setting in hard now, and she made a dash for the TV room, just barely making it to the couch before the hard-wired post-coital sleep mode hit her.
	Waking up an hour or so later, Holly was resting in her corner once again, charging cord plugged back in and she was positioned cross-legged. Standing up she made her way to the living room again, bewildered and not the least bit disoriented, not even sure if what she had experienced had been an exceedingly pleasant dream or reality. However, when she encountered Anon, now watching a nature documentary, she knew it had been real. His hair was still drying, and he had put on some fresh clothing. A magically summoned heating pad was nestled into the small of his back and he turned to Holly, clearly in far less (if any) pain.
	“Hey Holly, I think your battery might have died, you were shut down over here on the couch. Good to see you’re charged up again.”
	“Yes, sir, charged up,” she laughed. Nope. Not a dream.
	“Well, like I said I have no real plans. Gonna order pizza in a bit for dinner and that’s it.”
	“Y-You don’t want me to prepare something for you, sir?”
	“Nah, take it easy. You watched a lot of TV today,” he chuckled. “Plus you helped me out a lot with my back. With you around I won’t be slipping so much I suppose.”
	His smile made her uneasy, guilt already consuming her again as her matronly instincts took back their foothold. Blushing heavily she could only nod at his thanks. She knew all too well she couldn’t do what that ‘some person’ had programmed her to do, especially not to him. She feared now how at any moment she could lose control as she had before and, with no restraints in place, seriously hurt Anon. She resolved to never touch him again. So long as she could distance herself and sate her urges by hand alone, not a hair on his body would be harmed ever again, not if she had anything to say about it.
	“C’mon Holly, let’s watch some more TV.”
	“O-Okay, sir.”
	“You don’t have to call me sir all the time Holly, just Anon is fine.”
	“O-Okay…” She received an expectant look.
	“Okay… Anon.”