I could tell something was wrong with my programming from the very start. I'd been brought to my clients' home on a warm Sunday morning, probably delivered in a truck. The delivery man must have unboxed me, showed my clients how to care for my body, and what to do if something goes wrong — all that must have happened, but I wasn't yet around to observe it. It was still a warm Sunday morning though when someone turned me on.

I found three humans looking at me. One was a middle-aged man standing next to me, wearing a delivery uniform. He had one arm draped over a hand truck, and there was some wrapping and packaging about his feet. I recognized those as the packaging which I came from. The other two were in front of me, looking at my face. The shorter one was a woman, long straight brown hair, dressed in a long summer dress. She had a smile and mouth was slightly open. The taller one was a man, curly and almost black hair, with a short beard of the same color. Dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, no shoes on. Also smiling, though only with his eyes.

"Hi," I said. I looked at the delivery man, who shrugged and pointed at the other two. "Hi," I repeated, looking now at them.

"Hey," said the guy. "I am Raif, and this" — he pointed at the woman next to him — "is Lana". I was about to say something about it being nice to meet them, but he continued. "We'll call you Aisa".

So that's my name. "Aisa," I said quietly. Then repeated it. "Aisa. It's nice to meet you, Raif." I looked at him, then at her. "And Lana".

"There you go guys. Enjoy now," the delivery man suddenly said, and grabbed onto his hand truck, making to leave with it. Lana and Raif started picking up the stuff off the floor, and saying goodbye to him, and I just stood there, looking.

I was in a house. It looked like maybe only the two of them lived there — I could see most of the house from the living room, where I now was standing, and I could see there were two rooms of which one was a bedroom and the other an office, and then a kitchen. The couple had pictures of themselves on the wall above the couch that took up a lot of space in the living room — just the two of them, smiling. The two of them getting married. The two of them next to some river. The two of them in a car, waving to someone. I understood them to be a young married couple.

I couldn't tell you how I think. In fact I can't even tell you how I exist. I know that I was produced in a factory and that I have a nanoparticle brain; that much is in my memory banks. But I could tell you no more about how it works than a toaster oven can tell you how it is made. Nobody wants their toaster oven walking around with blueprints for making more toaster ovens. I do know that my body is roughly a third batteries, a third motion and sensing, and a third what passes for a brain in us. 

I was standing around, while the three people were coordinating clean up and letting the delivery man out, and that is when I first got a sense of something unexpected. Raif and Lana were bending down to clean up the box and packaging foam, and Lana's blue flowery summer dress rode up a bit, showing her thighs. An unexpected something happened in my reasoning then, a fleeting run of bits perhaps? I don't know enough about myself to even know what it was, but I could not connect whatever it was to a thought or emotion.

My thoughts about all that were interrupted by the departure of the delivery man. Raif walked back to me.

"So," he said, "Aisa. You're here to live with us and help us around the house. You know how to do that?"

I smiled and sort of nodded. "Almost. I know what has to be done, and I know some basics, but usually I have to be given at least some instruction. Show me what to do, and I'll probably learn how to do it quickly."

He laughed, "Sure, alright then. Aisa, let's go wash the dishes."

I followed him to the kitchen. In not too many words he told me to wash whatever was in the sink using as little water as possible, and to then wait around till it dries a bit in the drying rack, and then to put it away. He opened some cabinets, showed me where a bunch of stuff was.

"What if I don't find the right place?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Ask us, I guess. If you can look around and make a good guess, don't ask. If you really can't tell, ask us." 

I nodded. I am a quick learner.

Over the next couple of days, Lana and Raif taught me a lot. I learned how to scrub the toilet, how to wash the bathtub and shower, how to organize their clothing and how to change their bedsheets. There is little I couldn't do — I've got the same appendages as humans, after all, and most of this is built for humans. I later saw a robotic vacuum on a shelf somewhere: sort of like me, but the robotic vacuum can't also clean the walls, or carefully wash and dry wine glasses, or fold underwear. But, well, I'm the same in that I'm just a helper here.

In between tasks, at first I would just stop where I was standing, but that was kind of disruptive to them. At some point Lana almost knocked me over when she walked around a corner. 

"Holy crap, Aisa," she panted. I could tell she was startled to run into me. "Next time, if you're not doing anything, please go stand in the corner or sit on a chair or something."

"Which of these would you prefer?" I asked, smiling at Lana. Smiling is good for communication. 

Lana shrugged, and walked on. "Just don't get too much in the way please," she said. I had to think of how to follow her recommendation for a while, and ended up trying out three different places to stand and sit until I found the one that was most out of the way. It was a spare chair in the living room, next to a clock and conveniently next to a power socket where I could recharge. I spent hours of my day, and most of my night, sitting there.

By the fourth day they'd asked me to help them make food. Raif was in the kitchen chopping onions and having a reaction to it of some kind, which made me fear for his health, but when I asked about it Lana just laughed and said it was just onions. I knew that already, and was confused, but there wasn't much to add. 

"Why don't you take over for him on the onions?" said Lana. I knew she meant that as a command rather than a question, and walked over to Raif who was holding a knife and trying to not rub his eyes with anything as tears streamed down his cheek. I extended my hand to Raif to take the knife, and he offered it handle-first. As I walked to take over his cutting spot, I had to squeeze between him and the counter, and Raif's other hand ran across my back. Again, that same fleeting problem from a few days ago, almost like a thought unsatisfied by reason, and then it was gone. I paused for a second, but focused on the task and nobody noticed. There were onions to chop.

About a week in, there was a slight incident where I might have done something that they disliked. I was on my chair, and then time came to do a regular toilet clean in the master bathroom, and so I quietly got up and got my supplies — brushes, cleaning liquid, a clean sponge. The door to the master bedroom was not closed, but was almost shut, and I could hear that Raif and Lana were inside. I pushed the door open and walked in, making my way to their bathroom.

"Who the hell.." came a voice from the bed, and I looked at the sound. Raif was there, lying down, and what looked like a fully naked Lana was sitting on top of him. Her hands were in her hair, and she looked sweaty. From where I stood, I could see her buttocks with a cleft in the middle, and could see the little indentations in her skin from her underwear and the straps of her bra. She was holding her hair up, and I could see her sweat rolling down the back of her neck. Raif looked like he was naked too, though his legs were still partially under the covers. I could see the top of his chest, hairy with little curls. He too glistened with sweat. 

"What on earth," repeated Raif. His voice was more breathy than I remember it being. He was staring at me. Lana turned around as well, and followed his gaze. Her body turned and I could now see her breasts with their dark nipples. 

I had a database of human anatomy, of course, so I knew what to expect, but the sight of these human bodies in the nude was quite unexpected. I halted.

"Don't you know how to knock?" said Raif. 

I looked around, and saw the dresser. Knocking three times is for good luck. "On that?" I asked, and walked a step to the dresser, and knocked thrice.

"Just ignore her, dear, she doesn't matter," said Lana, turning back to Raif, and starting to move her body and up and down. "She's like a family dog, and nobody cares about a dog watching". Lana herself was panting now. I could see that she had actually been bouncing on Raif's penis, which had been inserted into Lana's vagina. I knew of anatomy and how it's used, so it finally dawned on me that they were having sex.

Raif turned back towards Lana, and put his hands on her sides as she bounced up and down. I didn't know what to do, but clearly I did something wrong. Maybe knocking three times was important in this situation, but maybe I was indeed just like a dog that isn't worth worrying about. I continued to the master bathroom.

For the next ten minutes while I cleaned it thoroughly, I could hear — though not see — their sex routine. It sounded like after a few minutes of bouncing Lana got tired and slid off, panting, saying something about Raif's turn. Raif might have now gotten on top of Lana and started bouncing. I tried to imagine him bouncing with his penis in Lana's vagina, but the anatomical picture would not work. Instead my mind went back to Lana and her buttocks, and her chest, and Raif's hands on her. There were a few video frames in my memory that I replayed, for some reason. A did it a few more times, and felt that strange yearning again. It was like a desire that I could not satisfy, and it was very strongly felt but unresolvable into any specific action. I got desires to charge myself, and I got desires to rest, and I got desires to cool down, so I knew what desires were. My makers were good at making me feel icky if I'm dirty, or tired if I worked my motors too hard for a few hours. But this was a different feeling of sorts — a desire for which I had no programming and no description.

When I was done, I walked back into the master bedroom, and was heading back out to the kitchen to wash the things I'd used. As I passed at the foot of the bed, I could not help but see Raif who was once again lying on the bed, his legs and arms spread wide, while Lana was curled up by his knees with what looked like her mouth around Raif's penis. I didn't need to learn more, and walked out, though I caught Raif looking at me. 

After that, nobody commented much on me being present when they were having sex. I didn't have much reason to be there often, but they tended to have sex every other day and it would not be unusual for me to be gathering up or sorting laundry, or doing some light chores, with them being naked in bed and pleasing each other. I don't know if I understand what pleasure is, since I don't have that emotion — I can tell when I'd done a good job, and feel proud of it, and I can feel sad when I haven't, but pleasure sounds like something that happens because either some physical action like touch or some communication between people. I'm all about touch, with sensors for that everywhere on my body, but touch for me causes pressure and temperature sensing. 

A few weeks later I was in their office cleaning up, and realized that I did not check for unwashed clothing recently. Raif was working on something in the garage, and Lana was somewhere in the house. I walked around their bedroom and living room and found a sock and a shirt under the bed, and held those as I walked around the rest of the rooms. The house had a hallway bathroom and I walked in there to check if anyone had left anything there. To my surprise, despite the unlocked door, Lana was there. She was on the toilet, maybe peeing, cause I heard a tinkle of water. I made to turn around and leave — privacy in restrooms is a built-in trait for me.

"Nah, do what you need to do," said Lana. I paused, and turned back to look around. No clothing on the surface.

Except. Except that on the tips of Lana's feet was a pair of underwear; panties, as she called them. I could tell that they were dirty — there was a faint whiff of ammonia coming from them; a bit of her pee, perhaps. Lana's legs were closed, but the panties were still hanging on after being mostly taken off. 

"Can I take these to be washed?" I said, pointing at the panties at her feet. Lana looked at me, and her eyes widened a bit. She didn't say anything for a second, and I was just about to assume she meant no, when she nodded. "Sure, take them," she said, and pointed with her head to the panties.

I walked over to her, got down on one knee to better balance, and reached out to take her panties off. My hand brushed against her ankle as I reached for it, and two strange things happened. First, I could see goosebumps forming on Lana's legs, rapidly. And, second, touching her skin brought not just the usual, well-calibrated, feeling of touch pressure, but also that hidden mysterious feeling. It came on while I was touching her, and my mind paused for a half a second, making my hand linger on her ankle momentarily. In that time I glanced at her, and she looked at my eyes. I pulled my hand down all the way, and grabbed the panties. 

Standing up, I said "Thank you", and walked out of the bathroom, closing the door behind me. The panties were in my hand, about to join the sock and the shirt I was still holding, but I paused and noticed that they were not only slightly wet (with the pee, I thought), but also still every so slightly warm, perhaps from the heat of Lana's body. I found it curious, and even more curious was that I sensed my body temperature rising a fraction of a degree too. I adjusted the temperature back down, and was curious as to what had happened. Perhaps I really am defective.

Next week, Lana and Raif had to leave on vacation, which meant an uninteresting time for me. After cleaning everything I could, and ensuring all items in the house were as organized as I could make them, I mainly just sat on my chair and thought about things. I wanted to figure out what that strange feeling was, and why touch was related to it.

I figured that since I was home alone, I could see if I can get an answer through a bit of experimentation, so I removed my clothing. When we get shipped, we are dressed in normal clothing — pants, something that looks like a sports bra if we're structured to identify as female, and a short sleeved shirt. I took all those off, and stacked it next to me on the floor. I was now as close as I could be to a naked human in style: without anything but my body. I am made to be smooth, and skin colored. There are a few things about me that are made to be very human like: for example I have elbows that are functional and have motors in them, but I also have eyebrows even though they add no functionality. I was also made with bumps for breasts, though without nipples, and with a slight rounding of my hips and mons pubis, though without any vagina between my legs. I have no hair other than on my head. 

Now that I was sitting down all naked, I looked up and down at my body. It was different from the humans in its perfection; the smoothness wasn't quite at the molecular level of course, and when I ran my hand across my stomach I could sense the tiny bumps in the synthetic skin, though from touching Lana and Raif I knew that their skin also looked smooth at times but was much rougher at the microscopic level. I ran my hand up and down my chest to feel the bumps there. My cleaning routine had me wash that part of my body every three weeks, and I'd done this twice already, but it was an interesting feeling to provide one's own pressure input and then feel it as touch. The two senses — the motor and the touch — integrated and gave me a sub-millisecond enjoyment of anticipation of where the touch would be. 

My thoughts drifted to Lana. I replayed the video of her in bed on top of Raif, and a clip of her in the bathroom with my hand on her ankle, and my touch delay grew a bit larger. For a slightly longer period of time I could not anticipate where my hand's movement would yield a touch sense, and the anticipation of that seemed surprisingly similar to my mysterious unmapped sense from seeing Lana. I repeated that a few times, and tried touching myself in various other places in my body. They all resulted in the same effect — the more I remembered how Lana looked and felt, the greater the delay.

And the greater my desire to experience that delay. I found that if I replayed a clip in my mind over and over, at a faster and faster speed, I could increase my touch sensing delay and make it feel…. pleasurable? Maybe that's what that sense was? I knew that I wanted more, and I knew how to get that sense to happen more: I needed to continue playing the clip. I accelerated the clip, first to 40 frames per second, then to 100, and then to 1,000 which was as fast as I could go and still monitor my key autonomous systems but little else. I moved my hand up and down my body, touching and squeezing, as the video blurred into a continuous stream of frames of Lana, which I could not even process in time. For a few milliseconds time felt like it stopped still. I felt the data stream from my sensing systems get backed up, and I could do nothing about it. I could not see, I could not hear, I could just feel a trickle of my delayed touch. Then, I stopped the clip.

My world exploded in a flood of senses. Suddenly, my computing brain being free to process all its input, everything came back at once. My sight got saturated almost to a white-out by processing what I had seen but ignored for the last little bit. All the backed up touch — the self-caresses from a few seconds ago — came in all at once and made me feel like I was being touched all over at once. Even my smell came back and gave me every single scent that I normally picked up but all within a single millisecond.

It was luck that I was sitting in a char, because I think I would have fallen over if I was standing. It took a couple of seconds for me to regain control and get back to some semblance of normal. I sat in the chair, naked as I was, for a minute, and then gathered my clothing and got dressed again. A low battery alert chimed — I had used up more power in those few minutes than I usually did in 2 hours. It was time to plug in. I did so, and closed my eyes and thought of nothing.

The next few days were unremarkable; I dared not try the same thing again. I am Raif and Lana's property after all, and I do not want to damage myself. I don't even know what had happened, but it certainly felt good. Like when I do a good job at some task, but even more so. With my senses overwhelmed I could not record my feelings effectively, but I recorded my thoughts about them in the moments after the peak had passed, and I looked back at that memory with what I now knew to be something like pleasure.

Raif came back a few days later. Lana had a business trip, and stayed back in whatever city they had visited. I did my chores, and sat on my chair, and all was good. Until…

Until one day, when I was doing my normal chores, making a snack for Raif, but realized that I did not know where to find vanilla extract. I looked and didn't find it, so I went looking for him to ask. 

"Raif?" I called out, after not seeing him at a glance. He didn't respond, so I continued looking. Not in the garage, not in the bedroom. I saw a light in the master bathroom, and thought that he was maybe there. Not hearing much I knocked, waited a second, and came in.

Raif was standing in the middle of the bathroom. He was wearing a t-shirt, and he had headphones in his ears, but his bottom was undressed. His back was to the door, and he did not see, or apparently hear, me come in. I almost closed the door but then thought again about it. There was no command to go away, and in the past there was some acceptance of me in their bathroom spaces which allowed me to overcome by built-in privacy considerations. I paused, and called out.

"Raif," I said. "Where do you keep the vanilla?" He didn't hear me. So I walked over to him and tapped him on the shoulder. 

To say that I surprised him could hardly be an exaggeration. He even jumped a bit while turning around. He recognized me, and suddenly got red in the face, and started to cover up his penis. It was surprisingly long at the moment, not like when I once saw him in the shower, and he had one hand wrapped all around the penis. With his other hand, he reached up and took his headphones out.

"Aisa," he said hoarsely. I didn't say anything. He moved a step closer to me. "Wait," he said. I did nothing.

He walked right up to me, grabbed my hand, and, gently, guided it to his penis. His eyes never left mine, though I admit that my wide-angle vision made it easier for me to follow what was going on than his human peripheral vision would have. He put my hand on his penis, and my fingers instinctively wrapped around it.

It was so warm. It felt a few degrees warmer than his hand; and it was both so soft to the touch and so firm on the inside. The penis was longer than the width of my hand, and it had what looked like two layers — the skin that covered the majority of it, and the inner part with a cup-shaped tip that protruded out of the skin. The penis was not just warm, but it was pulsing a bit; I think I could feel the flow of the blood within its blood vessels. This was a very unusual touch input for me, and it took a few seconds for me to realize that it came with a bit of the same sensation as I had recently learned to understand as pleasure.

Raif continued looking at me, looking in my eyes, and mouthed, "please". I didn't know what he wanted me to do but he kept his hand on top of mine as it was wrapped around his penis, and added, "pump my cock".

I tentatively moved my hand and found that the skin moved along the shaft. I moved it a bit, in small increments, and found myself settling into a rhythm of sorts. I could tell that the penis was getting even firmer underneath my hand, and even when Raif took his hand away I continued holding on and moving my hand forward and back. He stood in front of me, looking at me, his eyes narrowing.

We stood like that for a few seconds, and then I moved my hand and reached under his shirt and just planted it, palm first, on his chest. Curly chest hairs caused small touch sensations, maybe called tickles, between the fingers of my hand, but I just held my palm there, as my other hand pumped the cock as Raif had asked.

Raif started moaning. I tried pausing what I was doing, but he said, "No, no, keep going", and I continued. His hands were down by his sides, his headphones dangled on his shoulders, and I kept rhythmically moving my hand. 

After a minute of this, his demeanor has changed. He was still moaning, but now he was scrunching up and his moans became more like grunts and his breathing became choppier. I was wondering if he was ok, but also I was wondering if I was OK: I was surprised to find that my body's temperature was rising too, and that I had started to slow down my input rate too without even realizing that I wanted to do that. Some autonomous part of me had caused Raif's visible pleasure to take the place of the clips of Lana that I had played and replayed for myself previously. I couldn't make it any faster of course, but I could get a sense of the pleasure building up in small amounts.

Then suddenly Raif convulsed. His knees buckled a bit, and he grabbed onto the counter of the bathroom. Then my hand felt his penis shiver and expand and pull back and then pulse wildly, and suddenly a liquid shot out from the tip and onto my shirt and pants. I let go in confusion at this new input, but the liquid continued coming out and squirting at me. It was all over my hand and arm too, and I felt it warm and it was flowing slowly suggesting high viscosity. I pulled back a bit, as Raif stood there with eyes closed and visibly shaking a bit as he held onto the counter. 

"Are you ok, Raif?" I asked. He smiled, and let out a gasp, "Yes, oh yes," he said. 

I looked down at my arm, and at the liquid. I realized this was semen that contained sperm. I brought my hand up to my nose, to smell it, and realized that I didn't have the right smell sensing equipment to fully describe it. I brought my hand to my mouth, extended my taste probe, and smeared some of the semen over it. Seeing this, Raif's eyes widened, he croaked "Oh", and his penis shot out another squirt of liquid.

We stood there, for a bit. I didn't know what to do. "Vanilla extract," I said. "I was looking for it, before."

Raif looked at me. "Please don't tell Lana," he asked. "She might not understand".

I thought about this for a minute. "I can't actually lie," I said. "I don't know how to make those kinds of decisions."

Raif bent to pull up his underwear and pants, which were lying on the floor nearby. "Can you, maybe, just avoid telling her about it?"

"What if she asks me?" I said. 

"Well, if she point blank asks you if you gave me a handie, tell her that you did. But don't go volunteering this info to her, ok?"

"Ok," I said. That made sense. Is that all lying is, then? Following a command to only tell the truth in a specific circumstance? And is lying when Raif tells me to do this, or when I accept that command and follow it? After all, I can refuse some commands: I won't kill or injure anyone, even if asked, and I won't commit crimes. But lying is not a crime I'm programmed for.

I was still covered in Raif's sticky semen. While normally I only wash my clothing when I was my body, here it seemed like both were necessary. I took it all off, and stepped into the shower. Raif had never seen me without my clothing, and had now stared at me, frozen mid way through buttoning his pants. I could see his penis, which had shrunk after emitting the liquid, had grown again in his underwear.

I washed my body, which took just a few seconds, and then performed the shaking motion that we are programmed to perform. In a sort of a rotating fashion, I move my hips and my legs and my chest and my head in opposite directions rapidly, and the water comes squirting everywhere. I got nearly dry that way, and then used a towel hanging on a hook outside the shower to dry the rest of me.

Raif stared at all of this attentively. After I dried myself off, I went to pick up my soiled clothing to take it to the laundry. As I passed him, he put his hands on my shoulder.

"You are beautiful, Aisa! I had not realized that before, with you here, but you are so hot."

I was not hot temperature wise, but I ultimately understood his comment to be an expression of desire. I nodded, said "Thanks," and walked out.

While my clothing was washing, and then drying, I stood there all naked, and let my computing brain re-run the clip of Raif and me pumping his cock, as he'd called it. I started to feel pleasure again, and only the fact that there was nowhere to sit stopped me from going all the way to shutting down all my senses again. I would have to try again, when I was on my chair.

I didn't do it the next day, nor the following, and then Lana came home and life was back to normal for a while again. I cleaned, and I cooked, and I took out the trash. I saw them having sex once, but only through an open door. I didn't sit in my chair naked because I didn't want to explain what I was doing, and I was concerned that I would have to admit that I was defective. Maybe this was a lie too, omitting something important. I am sure I would tell them if they asked, but I wasn't going to volunteer this information to them. It's only internal diagnostics, or I could pretend that it was.

Summer changed into fall in a couple of weeks, and I could recognize the change in the weather. A colder wind blew through the windows, and I took to wearing a sweater — not because I needed it, but because otherwise I would look oddly underdressed compared with Lana and Raif. The two of them were busy working during the week, and tended to have a social life outside their home frequently on weekends. Once or twice a few friends would come over, and they would have a loud evening with them in the living room. I would wait somewhere, perhaps in the garage or even just the kitchen, until I was needed. Usually that was only once everyone was gone and I needed to clean up the wine glasses, beer cans, spilled dip, and accidentally turned over paper plates.

One October day, I was sitting on my chair, when Lana came home earlier than usual. Her hair looked frazzled, and she didn't even look at me as she marched straight into her and Raif's room and shut the door behind her. I could hear a bit of clattering and movement there for a while. Then, a few minutes later, the door opened and Lana came out. She'd clearly been crying, for some reason. She had also changed out of her work clothes and was now wearing yoga pants and a white tank top with spaghetti straps. She made her way to the kitchen, found a bottle of wine, poured herself a glass, then grabbed the bottle and went over to sit on the couch. Sitting on my chair, the couch was perpendicular to me, so I looked at her and felt sad that she was sad.

I have a module for compassion. Usually it is triggered when our kind takes care of little kids, or animals, but here it kicked in, and I stood up and took a tentative seat next to Lana on the couch. 

"I'm sorry you're upset," I said to her. She was looking at me, and sipping her wine. The tears weren't coming anymore, but I could still see the streaks in her makeup. 

"Ah, Aisa, what do you know of all of this world, anyways. People are cowards, it's full of them."

I didn't know what she meant. Most people I knew did not exhibit cowardice, at least as far as I could know. I edged closer to her.

"I am sorry you are troubled. Is there anything I can bring you?" I asked.

She said nothing. But then she moved closer to me too, and put her head on my shoulder. I didn't anticipate that, and it surprised my senses a bit. I placed a hand on her shoulder to keep her steady.

My hand touched her right around the strap, and the strap fell off from the reduced tension as her shoulder moved down slightly. Falling to her upper arm, it left a gap just large enough for me to see her right breast from the top. She saw me looking at her.

"Do you want this, Aisa? Are you that kind of a girl?" Lana asked.

I don't know what kind of a girl I am. But I nodded, as I interpreted that question as a sort of a command. Lana shifted and pulled the other strap down too. Her left breast came into view too, and the whole tank top sagged to let me see the breasts and where they met. I looked at the breasts in wonder as the nipples started to extend a bit, no longer being flat spots but instead becoming pointy mounds.

Lana then found my shirt buttons with her hands, and started to unbutton them.

"I want to take you, Lana. All of you. Show me your body," she said. I didn't say anything, but let her continue to unbutton me. After reaching the top button, Lana sat up a bit straighter, and took my shirt entirely off. She threw it over the back of the couch; I followed the tossed shirt until I could see it no longer. I had an instinct to go pick it up, and put it away, but I didn't follow it.

Lana meanwhile had reached under my sports bra, and pulled it up above my head. She gasped when my breast mounds came into view. Her hands brushed over my breasts, and her touch was registered in my senses as something good. The sports bra went the same way as the shirt. In one motion, Lana grabbed her tank top and took it off, leaving herself topless next to my topless body.

I raised my hands from my lap, then, and reached out to her. I put each of my hands under her breasts — to see how they were structured and how they would seem to me — and she gasped as I did it. I moved my hands up her body until they came in contact with her now poked-out nipples, and my senses started to delay. I was starting to be overwhelmed by touch information: the breasts were soft and squishy, and the skin was smooth, but the areolae were like corrugated metal but yet still soft and squishy, and the nipple itself was a nub of firm skin. I ran my fingers over the nipple and grasped it lightly between my thumb and index finger.

Lana arched her back, and breathed in deeply. She took one of her hands, and reached it in between my body and my pants down into the space between my legs.

She didn't find anything. There was nothing there: a smooth surface. She knew this too, for she had seen what I'd looked like a couple of times when I was washing my body. But yet she reached there, and… my body heated up at her touch. And I mirrored her movement and reached down inside her yoga pants with one of my hands and touched her between her legs.

What I found there was an amazing touch sensation. I felt hot, wet, and sticky material. I felt, from the inside, the warm and slightly wet material of her panties. I felt the light tickles of her pubic hair. I let myself process all of those, and then replayed the recording of those senses at a repeat on high speed, letting myself become closer to saturation with the sense. I let my hand explore, bending this way and that, curling my fingers into her and underneath her, grazing the space between her labia and her anus.

She pulled in her shoulders, and suddenly said, "Oh, fuck me, Aisa, you are so fucking hot." I increased the temperature willingly this time, by a half a degree, and she continued to rub me inside my pants as I rubbed her vagina with my hand. My other hand still held onto her nipple. There was now too much touch input, so I closed my eyes to conserve my senses, and continued rubbing her body. I felt as her body squirmed under my touch. I felt as she arched her back and I heard as she let out screams and curses of what I could only interpret as pleasure.

Then suddenly, I felt her curl inward. My hand on her breast fell off, but my hand on her vagina felt a wave of pressure that came and went and came and went again. Then her body relaxed, and I opened her eyes. She fell back against the cushions, removing her hand from my pants.

"Aisa, you're so fucking hot, did you know that? You do my pussy better than most could," she said. I didn't understand her language for a bit, but intuited what the pussy was eventually. I removed my hand from her yoga pants too, and saw it sticky and slimy too. Much like with Raif I smelled it, and then used my taste probe. It tasted a bit salty. I smiled, and sat there with Lana until she unraveled her body from mine and went to her room.

I got dressed, went back to my chair, and plugged in to recharge for the evening. I would have to wait for them both to leave to re-play those newly formed memories and fully enjoy them.

Raif came home late that day. From what I could hear over the next few hours, he and Lana had a huge fight. I could not determine the cause, but it did not seem dangerous to life and no violence was audibly threatened so my protection module was never triggered. Raif and Lana both looked sad over the next few days around the house, but a week later I heard them in their room having loud sex, and all appeared better after that.

Fall changed into winter, and we all stayed at home a lot more now. A heavy snowfall closed the roads, and the minimum outside temperature fell too low even for me to be outside without a lot of covering clothing. I have an operating temperature range that did not like being too far below freezing for too long.

One Friday evening I was folding some laundry in their room. Raif had a friend over the other night, and this evening both he and Lana had gone instead to visit their friend. They wouldn't be back for hours. As I folded and put away clothing, I came across Lana's white tank top. I picked it up, folded it, and then unfolded again as the memory of our time on the couch flooded my senses. I paused, and then took off my clothing right there and then. I placed it carefully on the corner of the bed, and took the white tank top into my hands. I ran that tank top over my body, letting its touch pressure and microscopic roughness translate into signals in my brain that I combined with my playback of Lana on the couch. I played, at the same time, the touch memory of touching her; the visual memory of her breasts; the audio memory that repeated her words that I was hot, and I played it over, and over, and over, and faster, and faster, and faster. I reached hundreds of frames per second and I could feel the pleasure feeling building inside of me. I can't gasp, as I don't breathe air, but I let my mouth make a small moan-like sound as a reflection of my feelings, and… stopped functioning.

I came to my senses lying on Raif's and Lana's bed. I must have collapsed from my feelings, having lost control over the speed with which data was coming and when it came flooding back. But my internal clock showed a gap of over two hours. I made to get up, and right at that moment noticed Raif and Lana standing at the door of their room, looking at me. I was on their bed, all naked, still holding Lana's tank top.

"Do you want me?" I said. I meant as a helper in their home, now that they saw that I was defective. But I think they misunderstood my words, as they looked at each other, and Lana unbuttoned her pants as Raif took off his shirt. Both moved towards the bed.

I understood their misinterpretation of my words, but I made no effort to move. I was fascinated by their bodies, becoming more and more naked as they took off everything they wore. The both got on the bed, each from their side. 

"What about you, Aisa, do you want us?" said Lana. 

I do, I wanted to say. "I do," I said. 

Her hands were all over my body. I could feel them reach between my legs and touch me in my smooth section there; I could feel them reach under me and grasp my firm buttock-like bump. I concentrated on limiting the amount of information I processed so that I could stay at the edge of the pleasure but not go over it again. My hands found the spots I wanted — with one hand, I found Raif's cock and started pumping it; with the other hand, I reached between Lana's legs again and poked my fingers into her pussy. I could track all my digits individually and could create different rhythms, and so this time I synchronized each hand to the person's breathing rate and moved my hand at that specific rate. 

They loved it. I could tell it. They kissed each other above my body; they caressed each other's chests and backs alternating with touching my face, neck, chest, back, and everywhere else they could reach. I don't know if they knew what I could feel, but they continued doing it, and I continued touching them. 

After a few minutes, Lana guided my hand away, and instead straddled my body with hers. I have never had that much weight on my body before — it was within the design standards of how much weight I could take, but the touch and pressure input from her squeezing me with her thighs was so different and new. I let out a moan-like sound. Lana moved her body towards my head, and positioned her pussy right above my mouth. I thought about it for a while, and first kissed it a few times, and then I turned on my taste probe.

Normally the taste probe is a cook's helper tool. I can see if I've mixed ingredients correctly, or if something has spoiled. It has the shape of a soft membrane, perhaps not unlike a tongue but a bit more rough with bigger ridges, and I keep it stowed at the root of my mouth when not in use — unlike humans, I don't need it to speak. I let the probe out and extended it as far as it could go, and then thrust it into Lana's pussy.

She bore down on my face. It's a good thing that the probe is well attached, for she could have broken it before I got its angles and pressures under control. The probe picked up wondrous tastes. My hands were pinned out by Lana's legs, so I did what I thought best at the time — I flicked the probe in and out of the pussy as fast as I could. Sometimes I would move it outside and probe at the clitoris nub at the top of the pussy; sometimes I would go more for the walls of the channel or the outside labia. 

Lana shuddered, shifted, and fell off of me with a cry; now Raif came around. He also straddled me, and suddenly I was looking at his cock right in front of me. I removed the probe, and instead opened my mouth and wrapped my lips around his long penis. He let out a breath and pumped himself into and out of my mouth. I kept my lips tight on him and reached my now free hand to steady him on me. My hand grazed his scrotum and he screamed and then suddenly I could feel my mouth filling up, filling all the way and then overflowing with his semen.

Raif fell off of me too, onto the other side of the bed. I lay there, quiet, and closed my eyes. With Raif's semen in my mouth, and Lana's taste still in my memory, I let myself go entirely. I put it all on a faster and faster loop and I connected my pleasure feeling to my speech output to make moans. I screamed, it was so intense of a feeling for me. I lost motor control briefly, and my limbs were going in different directions without me commanding them. My back arched and unarched. I could not move on command. Then I slowed all the inputs down and ran my hand up and down my body, just as Raif and Lana reached and touched my body too, and then I unlocked it all and let myself be flooded with everything I'd held back. With my last bit of senses, I felt that I was falling deeper into the bed, as if that was possible.

This story has a happy ending. What I thought was a bad malfunction ended up being a highlight of my life. Raif and Lana and I continue to live together. I continue to clean and take care of them. They even have a son now. But every night, when the kid is in bed and I'm free, I go into their bedroom and take off my clothes and we stay together all night. I have to be plugged in for power, of course, but I can disconnect too — which every few days I do, as the three of us experience over and over again our senses of pleasure.