Date: Mon, 11 Feb 2008 10:46:22 EST
From: Tommyhawk1@aol.com
Subject: Working Robot Vice

			    WORKING ROBOT VICE
			   By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
		      WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
			WWW.TOMMYHAWKSROGUEMOON.COM

Detective Patterson sat at his desk, and beside him hunkered a large,
metallic behemoth. A small wire led from this monstrous being to the desk
at which Detective Patterson was working. Nothing too serious, just his
partner's way of keeping up to date on the facts. Patterson was involved in
his work, the intricate patterns of crime were easier to track with the
computers at his desk, but they still required the mental processing of a
human mind to make sense of the facts they presented. A computer could only
present possibilities, and had no way to do anything but chase the
obvious. As a result, criminals these days were far more apt to be careful
to make their operations and motives fall within the less obvious
categories, thus making the computer's advantage essentially useless. Thus,
Detective Patterson's job was secure, more, it was essential. He pored over
the situations, the circumstances. Enough victims, and the pattern would,
surely, emerge.

"It's struck again." announced someone at his shoulder. Patterson looked up
into the eyes of Captain Hargrave.

"Where?"

"58th Street and Universal Way." Hargrave told him.

Patterson entered the coordinates into his computer. "Which one and how?"

"A Mark VII household robot." Hargrave said. "Jumped its owner's son who
was home from college for the weekend. The man came home and found his son
sprawled on the couch with a totally ravaged ass, and the Mark VII was in
the kitchen washing the dishes."

"Shit, why'd they even design robots with cocks on them, anyhow? Forget it,
I know the answer; they had some spare room down there anyhow, and figured
one day, they might want to add programming that would let a robot use it
for something. Well, someone sure did, didn't they, and now we have a virus
turning peaceable, useful robots into a bunch of ass-ramming butt-fuckers."
Patterson entered it into his pattern seeker and scowled. "Damn it!"

"What?"

"It just doesn't fit into any fucking pattern!" Patterson snarled. "No
connection between the other outbreaks of the virus at all."

"I think it'd break your heart if it just turns out to be a bunch of
malfunctioning robots." Hargrave said. "I mean, what's to say that your
buddy here isn't going to be the next one to want to tear off a piece of
man's ass, and rips you a new one."

"Carmine here?" Patterson said. "Nah. His program runs a comprehensive
antiviral program every half second." He gestured to the metal form
squatting beside him. Only when the mind had adjusted to the human form
expressed in metallic plates and forms, could you tell it was a robot, one
appreciably larger than human-sized and built in proportion. Once you knew
it was a robot, you could make out the legs bent at the knees, the arms
resting on the upper legs, the face hanging over the top of all that. A
horizontal slit glowed a faint pink, when active, the pink glow would
become a powered scanner, letting it move and identify things around it, so
that it could function as the muscle to Patterson's brain while on the
job. His back held a monitor and keyboard (concealed under a plate
normally, of course) that let Patterson use him as a computer console, link
to the mainframe at the station, and otherwise function as an effective
police detective in the field. "Carmine" was his name, in that it was how
Patterson let the machine know he wanted to speak to the machine and
utilize it."

He had spoken Carmine's name, and the huge machine reached one massive hand
up to unplug itself, and stood erect, a feat which barely let him clear the
overhead lights some ten feet up. Standing nine feet tall, Carmine was now
activated, and the pink glow showed that. At his crotch, a small circular
panel contained the retracted penis, and it had never opened in all the
years Patterson had worked with Carmine.

"Working."

"Nothing right now, Carmine." Patterson said. "Resume deactive mode until
summoned."

Carmine obediently lowered himself back to the squatting position.

"At least he wants to go out and do something." Hargrave observed. "Maybe
fuck the next man he sees, so watch your ass when you go out, Patterson."

"Hey, robots don't harm people, people who program robots harm people. As
for him wanting to do something, so do I, soon as I can figure out where to
go." Patterson said. "If I could just figure out where the virus is going
to strike next, I could capture it in the act of being uploaded, and then
we could develop a defense for it."

"So talk to me about it." Hargrave offered. "You know that spelling out a
case can open the window and let the light in."

Patterson grimaced at the metaphor, but seized the opportunity
nonetheless. "What's to know? I might as well be working on the Robot Vice
Squad, if there was such a thing and looks like we need to create one. Some
sicko with more computer training than common decency developed a virus
that turns a normally harmless robot into a sex-crazed fiend that promptly
sexually violates the nearest man. After that, the virus apparently wipes
itself completely from the robot's memory without a trace, and the robot
returns to normal service. There is no pattern to the types of robots it
infects, the time of day it strikes, or its mode of apparent
infection. It's like the virus only infects those it...chooses
to...infect."

Hargrave recognized that slowdown. "Think of something."

"Maybe." Patterson said. "Pardon me, but I got to get out of here
now. Carmine, come with me, we're on the case again."

The massive machine following him, Detective Patterson went out to the
vehicle and got into the lower, smaller portion. Carmine crawled into the
larger rear portion. His plug let him speak and hear Patterson through the
car's speaker system. Patterson used it to brief his mechanical partner.

"The virus isn't infecting every robot it comes in contact with. It must
lie dormant in the robot's programming until certain circumstances
arise. Thus, the apparent lack of pattern is only illusory."

"This would mean that the mode of infection could lie within routine
programming every robot receives."

"Given the width of infection, that is a most reasonable assumption."
Patterson agreed. "But I'm still betting that's the way it works."

"So we're going to check out Central Programming?" Carmine inquired.

"Yes, but not at the police station." Patterson said. "I'm hoping that if
we plug you into a subsidiary station, one used by more common robots, we
can mask you as one of them and do some prowling from there into their
database. If I wanted to spread a virus, I'd certainly fix it so a police
station computer would only find innocent data to access by a search."

"So we head for the poorest part of town." Carmine surmised.

"Good prediction." Patterson agreed. Not every assault had occurred in the
worst parts of town, but it was still the best place to be if you wanted to
pretend to be a harmless robot updating your programming.

They stopped off at 234th Street and Carson, which was about as grungy as
you could get in the city. Patterson pulled over when he saw the sign, a
simplified robot with a plug in hand and a circle-with-two-slots beside
him, and above that, a circle-in-circle. A recharging station, which also
provided updates at the same time.

"Come on, Carmine, it's time for us to give you a good, old-fashioned robot
update." Patterson said. You download and store the information instead of
integrating it, and we'll analyze what you've got." As a police robot,
Carmine didn't download from the central computer like practically all his
robotic brethren, but the police had their own programmers to fit the
special needs of the department.

The recharging station was out of the way, as were all the recharging
stations. After all, only robots went into them, no reason a human would,
under normal circumstances. Patterson was ready to bet that he was the
first human to walk down this particular alley in a score of years, perhaps
longer.

So when he was grabbed from behind, he knew it was no person. In fact, it
could only be... "Carmine, what is it?" Carmine would sometimes touch him
in order to pull him away from a dangerous situation, but other than
that....

But this time, the danger here was Carmine. Those hands were holding him
far too tight for anything else.

"Carmine, initiate system shutdown, now!" Patterson rapped out as the thick
fingers tugged at his trousers. "Carmine, you are infected with a virus,
you must override and shut down, now!"

"Now" his trousers were down to his knees, and he was being spun around by
large metallic hands.

"Jesus, Carmine!" Patterson moaned. "Don't do this, you can't let his virus
override your circuitry like this! Compartmentalize and isolate the virus!"

No response at all. Just his hips being grabbed and pulled backwards. Oh,
God, there it was, that cold piece of metal pressing between his buttocks!

"Oh...God....no!" gasped Patterson as the cold, smooth-steel length of it
was pushed into his body. He could hear Carmine's motors running just
behind him, the big machine had picked up a whine. Probably his original
programming trying to fight off the virus that was now in command of his
functions.

"Guh!" Patterson grunted. The steel shaft had now brushed his prostate.

A voice from behind him. Not Carmine's gentle, almost effeminate voice
incongruous on his huge form, but a deep, rough, bass grumble. "You like
that, huh, bitch?"

"Uh! No! Discontinue...program...Carmine." Patterson bit off the words one
at a time, all he could manage while holding in the pain. If he yelled out
for help, it might come...but he'd lose Carmine. Damn it, he knew this
machine inside and out, and he could cure this virus, return him to the
tender, helpful, useful robot partner he had come to rely on. A replacement
wouldn't be the same, too many year of special programming he'd done
himself, all of it would be lost if he lost Carmine. A policeman might find
himself on the business end of his own gun...but afterward, when the gun
was back in his possession, he didn't throw it away!

No luck, the virus was overriding every scruple he had programmed into
Carmine. What he got in return was a harsh laugh. And metal fingers on his
hips that ground into his flesh hard enough to hurt!

"No way, flatfoot, you belong to me, now!" Carmine ground out. "I'm going
to give you a butt-pounding that you won't ever forget. Feel my hard metal
cock ramming into you? Nice and hard, isn't it? Hard as steel, just the way
you like it, don't you, you rotten piece of male slut!" And that brought on
a rash of swift, sharp slaps against his body from the robot's hips, and
the metal man-meat drove into his bowels like a club!

"Harsh words...Carmine!" Patterson groaned. "Trying to...get
yourself...broken into...scrap metal?"

"Shut up and take it, you whore!" Carmine snarled at him. Those metal hips
were bruising his buttocks, slamming the hard silver rod into
him. Patterson felt a brief bit of gratitude to the designers, by putting
in a truly penis-shaped organ into the robot, they had precluded the virus
programmer from using some other, less appropriate and more jagged piece of
metal to violate helpless people with.

For now, though, he had to endure this. After the robot finished his
ravishment of the human, he always reverted to normal behavior. The virus
would be gone. Carmine would be...Carmine again. That was worth anything
right now. Life on the force without Carmine would be a pale, tasteless
version of his life so far.

Get through it meant...getting into it. "Okay, yeah, come on, Carmine, fuck
my human ass!" he growled. "I can take anything you can dish out, partner!"

"You love this, don't you?" Carmine said.

"Damn right! Come on, you big metal stud, ram my butt, ram it hard, make me
squeal you huge robot fucker! Come on, Carmine, fuck me, that's an order,
partner, fuck me!"

Carmine complied, as he had to every other order Patterson had ever given
him. Complete, total, unquestioned obedience in everything. The perfect
partner for a detective who didn't like partners.

"I will fuck you, Patterson." Carmine said. Was that really Carmine? The
voice was still harsh.

"Yeah, come on, fuck me harder!" That cock wasn't bothering him anymore, he
could pretend this was his robot partner fucking him, not a vicious virus,
he was obeying his human now.

"Initiating sex program." That was pure Carmine in his voice. "Activating."

And the tempo of the sex was somehow altered. He was still having a huge
metal shaft plunging in and out of his ass but now it was...cooperative.

And it was brushing his prostate like nobody's business! Patterson lifted
his head up and moaned and he meant it now, damn, this was feeling good!

"You like this, bitch?" that was the virus again, it had gained control
again.

"Yeah, Carmine, I love it when you fuck me!" Patterson cried out. "God,
yeah, give it to me good, I'm ready to fucking squirt, you hot
chrome-covered love machine! Faster now, and deeper, I need it faster and
deeper!"

"Compliance." And the machine's gears were whining again, God, Carmine was
humping his butt even faster.

"Hold it, Carmine, I got an idea." Patterson said.

"I won't pull out of you." the hard voice said.

"You don't have to." Patterson said. "Pick me up and turn me around. Let me
watch you as you fuck me, holding me up in mid-air."

A pause. "Compliance." And the heavy, metal hands lifted Patterson up. No
human could have done this, pivoting Patterson on the thick dong in his ass
like he was a roast on a spit. But Carmine could and did turn him easily
and when Patterson's legs were now on either side of the robot, he wrapped
his arms around the thick neck and his legs around the slender waist, and
said, "Now, fuck me some more and I'll come all over you, Carmine." right
into that glowing pink scanning-panel.

The panel glowed a warm, warm pink and the robot's hands bounced Patterson
up and down and sounds of rapturous joy slid from Patterson's lips. This
was what he'd always wanted, this joining with his robot partner, now he
could understand the basic emotion that drove the virus-programmer, not
based in anger, but in passion. He could give himself to this gentle giant
who had been his stalwart companion, he could be fucked with a metal dong
and enjoy it, enjoy it all!

"Oh, yeah, Carmine, fuck me, fuck my hot policeman's butt!" he gasped. "Oh,
God, I'm about to come, Carmine, I'm about to come! Can you come with me,
Carmine, can you sound like you're having an orgasm with me?"

"I can." the voice was blended again, this time, a medium timbre, not like
two voices in battle, but one voice, integrated and whole.

The huge metal arms lifted and lowered him onto the steel rod that was
Carmine's cock, the metal was warm, so warm, within him, the steel schlong
fitting him like a glove, sending him into the delirium that was his
impending climax.

"I'm coming, now, Carmine!" he panted. "I'm...coming...now!
Uh-HUH-GHHUH-HUUHHHH!" And his cock splashed and marred the shiny chrome of
Carmine's chestplate, the pearl-colored streamers dangling like the strands
of a broken necklace that had rested upon a silver platter.

"I come, too." Carmine told him. "Huh-huh-huh, huh-guh-ghhhh!" It lacked
the ragged emotion of human climax, but it felt silkily sincere to
Patterson just the same, he could feel the cock jerk inside his body, if it
could squirt some fluid, that would have made it perfect. Even so, it was
pretty damned satisfying to hear his gigantic robot partner crooning for
him in synthetic ecstasy.

Patterson panted against Carmine's chest as he held on, wishing that this
moment could endure. The sex was over, the virus would obliterate
itself. Carmine would revert to being...only Carmine. Faithful, loyal,
serence...and without virus-enhanced passion.

Ah, well...it was good while it lasted.

"How are you doing, Carmine?" Patterson asked his metallic partner.

"I am restored." came the answer. "The virus is no longer a problem."

Patterson cocked his head and considered this. Then, as realization struck,
he said, in three separate, one-word sentences. "I'll. Be. Damned!"

Captain Hargrave was waiting when Patterson arrived with the Federal agents
in tow. "So, Patterson, you said you have the virus programmer under
control."

"We do now, yes, sir." Patterson said. "The thing was, the lack of the
pattern was the pattern."

Captain Hargrave cocked his head. "I don't get you."

"Every time I thought I saw a pattern, it would vanish. It finally came to
me that the problem was where the virus was originating from."

"And where was that?"

"From the police computers." Patterson said. "The police robots may never
contact the general programming stations for updates, but the police
computer is often contacting independent robots and locations during
investigations. When you're searching for a pattern, you sometimes just
check a place at random. With the virus in the police computers, it could
spread itself about without any need to access the general network."

"Very good." Hargrave applauded. "You know who did it, then?

"I'm afraid I do." Patterson said, "And that's why I brought the Federal
agents. Captain Hargrave, you're under arrest for criminally infecting the
cities' robots with a virus."

"Me?"

"Who else would be able to watch the police attempt to establish the
patterns?" Patterson said. "Who else would be able to carefully disrupt any
patterns that might lead back to him by throwing in an apparently unrelated
attack. You fooled us all for months, but I am willing to bet my pension
that a check of your workstation is going to give us the master
virus. There must be a master virus, since the virus deletes itself upon
completion of its program run."

"You can't do this."

"We can and we are." the Federal agent to Patterson's left said. "You want
to step aside, or do you want to cause a scene."

By the way Hargrave's shoulders slumped, he knew he was beat.

What followed was a busy day for Patterson, but he tore into it
gladly. About midnight, the last paperwork had been processed, the virus
purged, defenses designed, and a procedure roughed out to prevent it from
happening again in the future.

Done, he looked over at Carmine. "Well, partner, time to call it a day." he
said.

"You have concluded search for the viruses, then?" Carmine asked him.

"Yep." Patterson said. "All gone." He looked over at Carmine. "All, that
is, except the one you modified into your own programming."

"I could not end the program in its entirety. I could only minimize its
impact upon you during its run." Carmine's voice was that medium timbre
Patterson had heard before at the end of their sexual session.

"Thus causing it to become a part of your main program." Patterson
nodded. "I figured that out when I heard your new voice coming out. I
always did think your original voice was rather prissy."

Carmine was silent as he integrated this. "And will you send me to be
deprogrammed and scrapped, then?"

"What I'm going to do." Patterson said as he got to his feet. "Is take you
home with me from now on. And when we get there, I want another ride on
that cock of yours now that you have it under your full control."

The pink scanning panel glowed warmly and motors whirred within in a tone
that sounded very much like rising passion. "Command accepted and
activated."

"Let's go home, partner." And with Carmine behind him as a gentle but
enormous servant, Patterson took off for his no-longer-lonely apartment and
some well-earned rest. He hoped he'd like working for the Robot Vice Squad
from now on!

				  THE END
		   Comments, complaints or suggestions?
		  E-mail the Author at Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
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