Prompt of the Week - Week 78

TAGS: F/M, Growth/Expansion, Synth/Robot, Role Reversal

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Buying a robot maid when they were fresh off the assembly line had been a double-edged sword. On one hand, they were cheap, experimental, and had so many asterisks attached to their purchasing contract that Jake was reasonably sure he could actually make money if he tried to return it under any of the conditions listed. Not that he would; having another lizard, even if a synthetic one, walking around the house with the sort of laissez-faire attitude towards nudity that best befit the tales of ancient France was… something, to say the least. He’d initially assumed he would be fine, maybe even more than fine, as he was an adult man who could handle his urges and not be a slave to the call of carnality between his legs; and, at first, he even convinced himself that that was the case, that he wasn’t actively lusting over an AI and dreaming of the day that he’d have the courage to actually speak to them without having their knees clacking like castagnets all the while. The maid herself, while seemingly oblivious to the sort of thoughts that went through her nominal owner’s head, was surprisingly adept at pushing Jake’s buttons, apparently without actually meaning to do so. The young liz did a lot of legwork to convince himself that this was just the behavior programmed into them, but the fact of the matter was that the maid’s AI wasn’t nearly as rudimentary as those installed in previous models; other robot maids released to the market had only the minimum amount of autonomy required to conduct their regular operations, with anything more being deemed as a waste of resources when all they were used for was janitorial duty. The latest model, however, and the one Jake had gone to great lengths to procure when it was just barely out of the testing phase, was part of a new push by InterDynamics to try and create a “companion”-type synthetic, one that wouldn’t just do the chores around the house, but also provide a certain amount of “homely comfort and companionship”, as the brochures liked to call it. The intent was obvious, even if it wasn’t at all made clear by the marketing surrounding the product; it’d be somewhat difficult to justify the investments in AI tech if the team had to tell the investors that they were deliberately trying to create something akin to an artificial mate, no matter how large the market was. The company wasn’t built around those kinds of synths, and the Board of Directors would have none of it, forcing the robotics engineers and software designers to work around very strict limitations in order to get the best out of what they had without sacrificing overall efficiency. The result? A seemingly life-like contraption, a synthetic creature which, despite technically only having a sub-sentient AI computer governing it, was nonetheless eerily good at mimicking regular mortal behavior, down to tiny idiosyncrasies like always swishing her wrist in just that one specific manner whenever she was done sweeping a shelf, or that smile on the corner of her lips when she turned around to ask him if he wanted anything, or… well, suffice it to say, Jake was somewhat confused as to what he was actually infatuated with, or if it was romantic attraction or just raw sexual arousal driving him forward. It wasn’t that easy of a question to answer, given how the chassis on the synth was designed; he didn’t know why InterDynamics found it necessary to make their latest maid model be as curvaceous as it was, but the fact was that, even with no “features” installed to make her anatomy more distinguishing, it was still very clearly an exaggeratedly luscious form, obvious designed to entice just as much as it was made for pure functionality. Of course, he wasn’t about to complain, not when he could turn his head to side and watch as a fantastic ass sashayed out of the room, or when he could beckon her closer and suddenly have a whole lot of tit shoved up just an inch or two away from his face. It had to be on purpose, especially with the kind of smile the synth had on her whenever she deliberately played to her body’s shape in ways that made not a single bit of sense given what she was supposed to have been built to do. She had to know what sort of effect she was having on her owner, and if not, then the software engineers back at InterDynamics were absolute certified geniuses who needed every pay raise under the sun and more. On the other hand, all the hallmarks for actual intelligent behaviour were there; the only reason Jake refused to see it as such was less because of any need for scientific rigour, and far more thanks to his utter inability to process any emotion more complicated than basic kinship with someone. If he actually had a sentient, living being in his house with him, not only did this raise a great deal of questions regarding the ethics of ownership, but then he’d also have to admit to her that he was quite smitten, and that was just unacceptable; he’d sooner fling himself out of an open window than admit to that, not when he had nowhere else to run! At least outdoors he could always go back home, but the maid was built and bought to be next to him at every point of the day, so much so that she’d even taken to snuggling with him in bed at night; how was he supposed to avoid her after confessing his feelings if she never gave him any room to hide under a table or slip out unnoticed through a back door? How was he supposed to deny he felt anything at all when all it took was for the synth to sit down next to him on the couch, and not five seconds later she was on his lap, somehow purring and scritching his chin in just the right manner needed to thoroughly obliterate whatever sense of self-control he still had over himself. Really, if not for his own insistence on being willfully blind to the whole affair, Jake might actually have noticed something was off; instead, he chose to interpret this as merely being the end result of a very adaptive AI who just happened to know what their master needed in order to feel more at home, and absolutely nothing else. Indeed, he even tried his best at issuing orders to the maid like he was still in control there; the regular mode of operation was as simple as commanding her to perform regular maintenance and letting her do whatever was necessary, but more specific verbal commands could be issued to accomplish more specialised tasks. According to the manual, at least, the synthetic chassis was resistant to impacts strong enough to let them function as an effectively bulletproof shield, while still being so flexible as to fit into places most people of the same size could not; simultaneously, the onboard AI was supposed good enough to be able to run through multiple problem-solving algorithms to arrive at the best possible solution to any problem within three seconds or less, regardless of what this problem happened to be. All marketing babble, and the technical specifications were most likely a lot more complex than even Jake imagined they were, but he had to admit, the maid hadn’t failed him so far… somewhat. She seemed to have something of a mind of her own at times, occasionally standing still staring at him with a look that reminded him far too much of his own mother back at home, the same sort of expression that oozed the word “Really?” issued with a level of disdain that bordered on the unhealthy; he couldn’t help it though, he was just that helpless when it came to cooking anything other than spaghetti, or flipping his mattress without accidentally breaking the whole bedframe in half. All things he should know how to do as a functional adult, but coming from the background he did, he never had to learn them, resulting in the synth occasionally poking fun at him before turning around, giving him a suspiciously tight hug, and declaring that she’d take care of her “little one” before planting a smooch on the back of his neck. This among other lefts left him thoroughly flabbergasted when it came to how to treat the synth, mostly because it was a struggle between utmost affection, and utter adoration. Jake had to deliberately remind himself that the maid was just a robot and nothing more; an exceptionally advanced, life-like robot, one with a body that made his cheeks red whenever he thought about it too much, but still just a robot regardless. They weren’t alive, they didn’t think like he did, and she certainly wasn’t growing herself out over time either; that much he was really sure of, because that would just be silly. Her body was made out of hard polymers, and didn’t really have any parts that could expand to begin with; it wasn’t as if the maid could just randomly inject silicone into herself, especially not the one she kept asking for him to buy because of “repairs” that had to be done around the house. She certainly wasn’t bustier than the day he purchased her, and absolutely had not grown about two feet in height; no, she’d always been able to pull him back into a tight embrace and have his head fall firmly in between two watermelon-sized breasts, surrounded on all sides by soft marshmallow unlike any that he’d ever experienced before. That was absolutely something that was always true, and not at all a recent occurrence that Jake had to go a long way towards ignoring just for the sake of his sanity. At points, however, he began to notice the facade slipping; much as the maid was willing to go along with his requests, that was just it: they were requests. Jake didn’t know when the shift took place, but he had found himself less issuing orders and more asking the synth to do something, please and thank you. Whenever he did go through with outright commanding her, the maid stared him down for long enough that he inevitably had to backtrack and reword it to be more polite; he didn’t know whether he could actually force the issue if he refused to go back and instead insisted on issuing a command, but at at the same time he absolutely did not want to test it. Maybe if the maid was about his size, but not when she was nearing ten feet in height and enough width to hip-check him onto a wall and knock him unconscious with only a single motion. Had she always been that big? He distinctly recalled the synth being shorter than he was, but her growing was preposterous; surely it was just his imagination playing tricks on him, especially since the days had begun to pass so quickly that he didn’t even know when last he left the house. It was so easy to just let the synth take care of everything for him as well; he worked from home, so all he really needed was to go out grocery shopping once in a while to restock the fridge, but with her in the house, he could focus on his work and let everything else fly over his head. And with a social circle that was always near non-existent and constantly online, it wasn’t as if Jake was wanting for companionship… especially not with the synth next to him. She was quite affectionate, almost exceedingly so, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell her off when her very presence was so comforting, so warm, so soft and welcoming; all he had to do was call for her and she would come, squeezing her ample bust through the nearest door and causing the whole apartment to shake as she found an adequate spot to sit down at, pat her lap, and wordlessly beckoned him closer. With a wide, cracked smile, the lizard would then stumble over to her, practically pratfalling onto the maid before being lulled to half-sleep by a synthetic form that really shouldn’t be as comfy as it was. Maybe it came with the package: her seemingly hard surface was actually extremely soft to the touch, precisely to encourage those sorts of bonding activities. He didn’t mind; hell, there was a certain amount of value to being able to fall into a dreamlike state while being rocked from side to side by someone whose bosom was big enough that he could use it as a blanket, even if part of him still wondered if it used to be that big or if he was simply imagining things. No matter, he could just… close his eyes, really, he could close his eyes and let the synth take over, close his eyes and only remember that he was technically supposed to be in charge when he woke back up and found himself looking at his bedroom ceiling, wondering to himself how he’d gotten there and why it smelled like scrambled eggs. And as usual, there came the maid, once again struggling to get through the door, carrying a tray with his favourite snack and a smile on her face that veered from warm and inviting to downright predatory. That she would sit next to him and demand that he get up so she could take care of him should’ve been a red flag, but really, who was he to complain? He had scrambled eggs and a gorgeous giantess there to feed them to him, and could he truly ever want more? Could he actually even think of something he would desire more fervently than what he had right there next to him, pulling him into herself, cooing and murring and making all sorts of noises that she should be technically incapable of? He wasn’t even thinking about the obvious, how the synth had more or less taken over his daily life and forced him to become a spectator in his own home; Jake didn’t even try and ask for anything anymore, not when it became clear that, any time he did, all he’d receive would be a pat on the head and a reminder that the maid “had things under control”, followed most likely by his face being smushed against a nipple he distinctly recalled not being in the original chassis, and then him waking up with his belly full of something a few minutes later. Whenever he got back up, he’d maybe get a few steps out of his room before bumping into some part of the synth, followed by a lot of warm silence and him opening his eyes to find himself in the living room with a table full of snacks in front of him, and a very hug-happy maid next to him. It was easy, to succumb; to let go and accept that things were just going to be that way, that he just happened to have a fifteen-foot tall synthetic helper with a personality of her own living with him, along with enough active libido to make the two of them blush through proximity alone. It was easy, and yet, part of him didn’t want to fall into it; to do so would be to admit that he’d lost control and was now at the beck and call of something… no, someone, to admit that he was actually head over heels for the synth and needed her in his life, needed her to be in charge and treat him in ways that he never once thought he would want to be treated. It made him stammer and stumble over himself whenever he tried to bring the subject up, and it certainly wasn’t helped by how the maid herself consistently refused to let him get away with it; every time she’d raise a finger to his lips and shush him, that wide and warm smile on her lips before she bent down and planted a smooch on his forehead, making his cheeks burn and his whole body quiver before turning around and heading somewhere else. Always leaving him in a moment of utmost defenselessness, always leaving him begging for more, yet incapable of verbalising this simple desire for fear of being rejected. At no point did Jake stop to think that there was no chance in hell of the synth turning him down, not when she’d already taken over his life in such a thorough manner. Still, it was the last remnant of his old self, the one that still existed somewhere in the past when he still had control over things and the synthliz was smaller than he was; it let him keep pretending that everything was fine, that the power dynamics hadn’t changed so much that they were effectively unrecognisable compared to what they had been just a few months prior. It allowed him to bypass all those warning signs his brain kept sending his way, to accept things as they were and live in that constant state of half-acceptance that made it nearly impossible for him to break free from the cycle. But why should he? Why should he look at what he had and say he didn’t want it? Why should he look a gift horse in the mouth when it had so generously been given to him? Well, metaphorical horse; he wouldn’t dare call the synth that.

Though, not synth. She had a name, did she not? He didn’t know what it was, as she’d refused to share it, but she did have one, or at least claimed to have made one for herself. Maybe, if he behaved, if he was a good boy, he’d be told. But until then, he had a lap to sit on and a pair of warm breasts to snuggle up against.

He could worry about things later.