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This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.
All sexually active human characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design: D.B. Story
Switch © April 2011 D.B. Story
eXcessica publishing
A Smashwords Edition
All rights reserved
Switch
By D.B. Story
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
A special thanks to Gorgo, Mulligan, Rocket Ralph, Ian, and Deryk Bramwell for their excellent and much appreciated proofreading.
INTRODUCTION
The Four Laws of Robotics (Revised)
First Law: A robot must not harm any human being, except in defense of its owner, family, or owner's property.
Second Law: A robot must obey all lawful commands given by its owner, as long as this does not conflict with the previous law.
Third Law: A robot must protect the investment in it by avoiding damage to itself, as long as this does not conflict with previous laws.
Fourth Law: A robot will perform the duties for which it has been designed and built, as long as this does not conflict with previous laws.
The A.C.I.D. Test
Awareness: The robotic equivalent of cogito ergo sum.
Consistency: This awareness persists.
Independence: A robot can initiate independent action based on its own determination of its needs.
Duty: Adherence to a moral code, as defined by the Four Laws of Robotics.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Robots aren't human. If they were, then my stories wouldn't need them at all since I could just write about human characters and have all of the readers who've told me over the years that they always avoided robot stories—at least until they read one of mine—busy making me a bestselling author instead. Because robots are different, relationships with robots will have to be different as well.
This story started out as a single scene in my mind when Stan and Traci wake up in the alternate reality and he sees her getting out of bed.
—D.B. Story
November 2010
Stan looked over to his robotic love doll lying naked and still in the bed beside him.
Traci was a marvel of engineering. Touch her on the back of her neck and she would accept voice commands to perform over a hundred different, intricate actions of love, sex, companionship, conversation—even domestic housekeeping. Yet almost none of her marvelous capabilities were actually utilized by Stan. Instead, Traci spent all her of time laying in Stan's bed because that was the only place he had any interest in her.
When Stan was in the mood for sex he'd touch her activation spot and say, "Gimme loving, baby." Traci would respond by self-lubricating, then either mount him if he didn't move towards her, or open her legs if he was already climbing onto her. After that it was usually short and swift, since Traci was more than sexy enough to over-excite any lover, until Stan shot his load. That was typically followed by a "Good night, bitch" command that put her back into her lowest-power standby mode. Stan liked the arrangement because he didn't have to worry about any wasted—for him—foreplay, or anyone else's feelings. That undoubtedly explained why Stan had Traci in his bed, rather than a real woman.
Tonight Stan just wasn't in the mood. He was reading the latest spy novel and the hour had gotten late without him realizing it. He was intrigued by the plot about a super agent who'd managed to switch places with a trusted advisor of the opposite sex, and kept almost, but never quite, getting caught as the circumstances became ever more outlandish. Now it was after one o'clock and tomorrow's workday would come early. Stan put the book down and looked over at Traci. She lay there as always, eyes open, lips closed, beautiful standout breasts not quite covered by the sheet. Stan decided he was just too tired to even grab a handful of bosom tonight. Traci wouldn't mind. She could just wait until tomorrow night when he might feel more inclined towards her than he'd been these last few evenings.
With that thought, he turned off the light and rolled over to go to sleep.
* * * *
Stan had a strange dream that night. It was like being caught in the spy novel he'd been reading. Each person he encountered left him feeling that he should be that other person. But each time he became that person, he was still the wrong person somehow. This seemed to go on and on with no resolution. It was a restless night for Stan, who finally woke up, not from his alarm clock as usual, but when the first light of dawn struck his already open eyes.
Stan lay there unmoving, watching the room get lighter and lighter, waiting until he would have to finally get up. He was still confused from the dream that had seemed so real and felt that he hadn't gotten nearly enough sleep last night. Today was going to be a hard one to get through when he was feeling this tired to start with, but he couldn't get himself to go back to sleep.
Finally the alarm went off. Stan reached to turn it off—and found he couldn't move! Instead, without being activated first, Traci rolled over with a groan and slapped the snooze button, silencing its annoying clatter. And suddenly a whole lot of things looked wrong to Stan.
* * * *
For starters, he was on the right side of the bed. Now Stan always slept on the left side where the bedside table, lamp, telephone, and alarm clock were located. They were still there, but he wasn't. Stan next realized he couldn't even turn his head. It was only out of the corner of his eye that he could see that Traci had somehow changed places with him.
In a sudden panic Stan struggled to move—and accomplished nothing. He realized that although he could see, hear, and think, he couldn't speak, or even tell if he was still breathing. He tried everything he could think of, and achieved nothing by all of his exertions, except to pass a few minutes of rising panic.
Finally the alarm went off again. This time Traci came more awake, reached over, and turned it off completely. Then with another soft groan she rolled over and out of Stan's sight for a moment, before he caught sight of her walking naked across the foot of the bed in full view and out the other side of Stan's vision to the bathroom. Stan tried desperately to call out to her, but he couldn't even manage a whimper.
A couple minutes later Stan heard the toilet flush, followed by the sound of the shower. A while later the shower ended and there was the sound of the brushing of teeth. It was his morning routine, except instead of the electric razor coming next Traci walked back into the fully lit bedroom. The dresser was beyond the end of the bed and Stan got a clear look at Traci as she finished drying herself off.
Damn she's beautiful.
And she was too. With his head propped up on the pillow, Stan could admire her smooth, shapely legs and firmly rounded butt as she moved about the room. Her unblemished back, long light brown hair, and large breasts with prominent nipples were immensely arousing as she finished toweling herself off. And her face with its clear brown eyes, pert nose, and lush lips was one he just wanted to take in his hands and start kissing.
Traci had become such a fixture in his bed for so long that he'd forgotten just how beautiful and sexy she really was—-most of all when she was in motion like now. The way she moved, turned, and seemed to unconsciously transition from one pose to the next, was immensely erotic—and Stan suddenly had a raging hard-on. Or maybe he'd had it all along and only now just realized it.