2 comments/ 20063 views/ 8 favorites VAL v1.4 By: nowunuknow Copyright ©, 2006: All characters, events, and text in this story are purely fictional, and are created by and the sole property of the author. All rights reserved. Content contains adult material. ---------- The best mentoring advice I ever received in my professional career was "do what you really like to do; the money will take care of itself." Five years ago I took that advice, and I quit my full-time job to start up a business with a close college friend, Hank Wolcott. After some years of struggle, the adage is finally coming true. My name is Jack Abrams. I'm thirty-six, have graduate degrees in electrical and aeronautical engineering, and live in a suburb of a major Midwest city. Hank is a software maven, whom someone once described as "a programmer who can shit better code than most others can write." We call our company 'Ramscott Robotics, LLC', from the last syllables of our two names, and it specializes in developing computer-driven robotics for automated industrial systems. Hank and I deliberately keep the business small, thereby avoiding the problems that come with employing full-time personnel, or needing to obtain financing from venture capitalists, who can be real sharks. Our clients have ranged from a meat packer in Minnesota, who wanted an automated fat trimmer for butchering cattle halves, to the Nuclear Energy Commission, which needed a robotic room cleaner for hazardous laboratory spills. A huge money maker for us last year was working with a California movie producer who wanted mechanized two- and four-legged creatures for a series of sci-fi films. Our last project was the development of a set of computer-controlled robotic mannekins for training medical students and EMT's in trauma diagnostics and treatment. Our 'victims' can simulate traumas like cardiac arrest, concussive shock and diabetic coma. We licensed the design, and about fifty orders have been placed for VictimMv2.2 and VictimFv2.2 . We owe a great deal of our success to our wives, Melissa and Patti, whom we met in college. They have supported us in our venture, and were the primary breadwinners during the early years, when it was not unusual for Hank and me to put in 60 – 80 hours per week with little or no compensation. Curiously, when Hank and I were in graduate school together, he first dated Melissa, now my wife, and I was off and on with Patti. On one double date, the two women astonished us by announcing that they would like to swap dates. Melissa, the more outspoken and bolder of the two, claimed that she and Patti had realized that they each had stronger attractions to the other man, and there were certain character and personality traits between them and us that would make for stronger relationships if we exchanged partners. Melissa was correct. She and I hit it off immediately, and, while it took Hank some time to adjust to the switch, he and Patti are now devoted spouses. Eight years later, none of us has any regrets nor do we speculate on 'what might have been.' There is no doubt in my mind that the Ramscott partnership, like our marriages, would never have come to pass without Melissa and Patti. They made a lot of personal and financial sacrifices as well as giving much emotional and psychological support to Hank and me. Now, however, the company has turned the corner, and the four of us are prospering quite well, happily ensconced in the good life in the 'burbs.' The only problem last spring was the lack of work orders for Ramscott. It had been almost three months since the completion of our last project, and, like all good engineers, Hank and I were restless to find yet another challenge to tackle. That was the major reason why I welcomed the telephone call in my work office one morning last April from a possible client. The voice was female, and sounded kind of sexy - a little lower-pitched, like an alto, and she emphasized the 's' at the end of words, almost like a soft hiss. "Am I speaking with Mr. Jack Abrams, president of Ramscott Robotics?" she asked. "Yes, you are," I replied. "How may I help you?" "My name is Dr. Celeste Dobson Carr, Mr. Abrams. I supervise a clinic that specializes in psychological counseling here in the city, and I am exploring new treatment techniques so that my clinic can better serve our patients. Last week, my associates and I had the opportunity to see your artificial trauma robots in action, and we believe that your company could possibly help us achieve one of our goals." Her statement puzzled me. What was the connection between industrial robotics and clinical psychology? I felt obliged to point out my reservations. "Forgive me, Dr. Carr, but I can't see how robotics technology dovetails with psychological counseling. Granted, we employ computer software and artificial intelligence, but our robots are still purely mechanical. They are like the scarecrow in the 'Wizard of Oz.' They do not have a brain." I heard Dr. Carr chuckle over the telephone. "No, Mr. Abrams, we are not expecting you to build us a robot with a brain. Not everything in counseling is done at the intellectual level. Our experience has shown that in many circumstances, resolution of problems, especially therapy for dysfunctional conditions, frequently are better dealt with solely via physical stimulus." I said, "In other words, your counseling advice would be, 'Don't think; just feel it and do it.' That sounds like a line some guy would feed to a woman uncertain about having sex." Dr. Carr replied, "How very perceptive you are, Mr. Abrams. No wonder some of your previous clients with whom I discussed your company spoke so highly about you. Would your company have any reservations about applying your technical talents to the development of a robotic system geared toward enhancement of female sexuality?" I was taken off guard by her casual reference to female sexuality, as if she were talking about clothes or food. My gut reaction was to hang up on this obvious hoax. But then my rational mind cautioned me not to jump to conclusions. "That definitely is not a field in which we have much previous experience, Dr. Carr, but the concept is intriguing. Why don't we schedule a face-to-face meeting with you here at our shop? That way, my partner and I can show you some of our robotic systems, and we can then discuss what you are seeking in more detail than is appropriate over the telephone, especially considering the kind of system application you have in mind." "I think that's an excellent idea, Mr. Abrams. Let me look at my appointment book for a time. Would this coming Thursday morning at 10:00 be convenient?" It was, and Hank and I met with Dr. Carr at our place of business. A year before, using the profits from the sci-fi movie robots deal, we purchased the building and office equipment of a bankrupt fitness center. We tailored the site for our kind of work, and now we have a honey of a facility. There are three offices and a conference room up front, with our workshop taking up most of the space in the rear. We kept the previous tenants' locker rooms and showers, primarily because it was too expensive to remove, but we sometimes indulge ourselves with a shower and a hot tub soak before calling it a day. Before we got down to discussing Dr. Carr's particular robotic needs, Hank and I showed her some of our work. She was particularly impressed with our latest version of a robotic arm and hand. We were complimented on the lifelike look and feel of the hand, which used custom molded cyber-skin over a titanium and aluminum skeletal structure. Hank demonstrated how it could locate and pick up a raw egg without cracking it. He then commanded the robot arm to place the egg on a golf tee, to show how precise and gentle it could be. For the finale, we had it crush a soft drink can to demonstrate its strength. Once more seated around the conference table, I asked Dr. Carr to describe her system concept to Hank and me, and then we could determine if it were feasible. "In my practice," she began, "We have a number of women seeking counseling about their sex life, or, more correctly, their disappointment in it. Prior unsatisfactory relationships, family upbringing, and possibly painful experiences have left them dysfunctional in one or more ways. Conventional verbal dialog sessions between patient and counselor on this matter can do just so much. After that, the patient must experience the physical and emotional stimulation of actual sexual performance to develop self-confidence." Hank, my partner, likes to try to simplify things down to their basics, claiming that when he does, a reasonable solution to a problem often becomes evident. I can't quarrel with that; his track record of great ideas speaks for itself. But sometimes, the client does not appreciate the distillation of what he or she said, feeling that Hank has somehow belittled them. His reply to Dr. Carr's lead-in made me feel that he was treading on her toes. He said, "What I understand you to say, Dr. Carr, is that dry land swimming lessons can go only so far. It is necessary to sometime jump into the old swimming hole, so to speak. Why don't you simply provide your patients with some live action?" Dr. Carr chuckled at Hank's metaphor, and then replied. "That is exactly what we do, Mr. Wolcott, in the case of our male clients. For them, I happen to use a trained woman as a sex surrogate. There are currently two surrogates working with our clinic, and we partner one of them with a male client when I or one of my associates decide that actual sexual activity is the appropriate therapy." "Sex surrogates for men is a common practice among sexuality counselors," she continued. "And it has proven to be a highly successful therapy procedure. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for our female clients. Trained and qualified male sex surrogates are extremely rare, principally because the male, during sexual activity, cannot remain intellectually detached from the physical activity, which is what is demanded of a surrogate. Also, the majority of female clients have to scale too many psychological and cultural barriers before they are able to benefit from one. That just happens to be the double standard into which our human physiology has evolved." I said, "I think I'm beginning to understand what you're driving at, Dr. Carr. Because it is so difficult to obtain competent male sex surrogates, you're hoping to find an alternative. Like a robot." "Precisely, Mr. Abrams. We are hoping that your talents with artificial intelligence and human-like robotic mechanisms might be able to develop an android male sex surrogate." I looked at her, and she appeared to be sincere in her idea. It still sounded preposterous to me, however. I said, "I'll admit to surfing the Internet in some of my idle moments for some prurient satisfactions, and I have looked at on-line catalogs of sex toys on various websites. There already is an abundance of things designed specifically for women to use on themselves or other women for such a purpose. I even saw some so-called fucking machines, for pretty serious dollars. Why not simply exploit what is already out there, Dr. Carr?" "Excellent question, Mr. Abrams. All those so-called marital aids and sex toys that are marketed for women's use are simply one form or another of masturbation. The possible exception would be strap-on dildos, but even they require that the woman who is receiving the stimulation is comfortable with having intercourse with another woman. Let me ask you, Mr. Abrams: if you needed assistance to help you overcome some sexual inhibition, would you think that a solo hand job or using a plastic vagina would be adequate therapy; or would you permit another male to give you a blow job as part of therapy?" I had to blush at her bluntness, but admitted that I would not. I looked at Hank, and he smiled and shook his head as well. He said, "You made your point, Dr Carr. But what would be so different in your concept of a robotic system? I, too, have looked at some of the fucking machines on websites. They're basically only motor-driven dildo actuators, but they do have operator-controlled variations, like speed, motion, and stroke length. What would you expect that Jack and I could add?" Dr. Carr's eyes brightened, and I saw that she was eager to answer Hank's question. It's always a good sign in a business deal when the potential client gets that kind of look. And I had to admit that I was more than a little interested in hearing her answer. She said, "All those machines have uni-lateral, pre-selected stimulation. By that, I mean that the person using the machine must make all the intellectual decisions for the stimulation prior to actual usage: vibrator intensity; dildo size and penetration depth; application points; and so on. I presume that you men both lie in the normal range of sexual tastes and level of experience, so you probably know that so much of the pleasure garnered from sex is the unexpected sensation, and the feeling that you are under the spell of someone else, who is trying to communicate his or her own sexual feelings back to you." "That is what makes sex so great for a woman," she continued. "That unspoken, but eloquent communication of her body as it responds to her partner's efforts in turning her on. And then he - or she, if the woman is so inclined - gives the woman more of that particular stimulus, or shifts to something else, depending upon what was interpreted from her body's reactions. From my own experience, the lovers who are great in the sack are those who can hear the voice in their partner's body, and then play it like a musical instrument." I stared at her, stunned by her articulate description of what made up truly great sex. I thought about it for a moment, and then had to acknowledge how right on she was. I said, "Now I think I understand what would make the difference between a one-way fucking machine, and an android lover, which is what you are seeking. We would have to add sensory feedback from the woman, for control and adjustment of the system's kinetics, to stimulate particular areas of her body with just the right kinds of turn-on actions. Hank, when you think about it, it wouldn't be that much different a computer program than what we used in the trauma victim mannekins, where we have them react to physical probings by the EMT." Dr. Carr looked at her watch and said, "I'm afraid that this is all the time that I can spend here today. I must get back to my clinic for my appointments. However, I feel that there is mutual agreement to pursue this idea further. When would be a good time to meet again?" Hank looked at me to speak for the two of us. I saw his hands on the table – our code that he was agreeing to going further. If he had crossed his arms, I would have said that we were not interested. My hands, by the way, were already on the table as well. I said, "Yes, Dr. Carr. We would be interested in working with you on this project. The way Hank and I work is that, after we have had the initial meeting with our client, he and I do one or two brainstorming sessions, and then we present a set of concepts to the client, to see if we're on the right track, and or to select a particular approach from the set. We will also provide some order-of-magnitude cost estimates for such a project. Could you give us a week, and then come back here? At that second meeting, we will show you some concept layouts, and perhaps even some kluged up feasibility models, to better demonstrate what might be possible. And, finally, both Hank and I would be much more comfortable if we could begin to work on a first name basis. Considering the kind of system this is, Dr. and Mr. hardly seem appropriate." Dr. Carr stood up and extended her hand, which I grasped after arising myself. "I agree. First names would be better. Please call me Celeste. I'll see you here again next Thursday. Goodbye, Hank and Jack. I'm very pleased to be working with you both." The next morning, Hank and I began the process of transforming the concept into possible engineering ideas. After five years of working together, we have discovered some tools which seem to work well for us in brainstorming sessions: extra large cups of coffee and a box of donuts. In between large bites of donut and swallows of the hot, strong coffee, one of us asks a problematical question, and the other tries to come up with a reasonable and rational reply. I can tell when Hank sort of accepts my reply as reasonable: he slows down eating his donut and rolls the bite around in his mouth before washing it down with some coffee. If he's not satisfied, he asks the same question, but with a different perspective. That morning, our session went something like this: Hank (biting off a large chunk of a raised donut with maple icing, and talking with his mouth full): "So, Jack. Now you want to get us into the sex therapy business. Do you really think that we are qualified for something like Dr. Carr wants?" I (after swallowing a bite of chocolate donut and sipping coffee): "Why not? We didn't know squat about meat butchering or sci-fi movie robots, but we satisfied those clients. It's just a matter of applying what we know about robotics to another field. And I believe that we do know quite a bit about sex." Hank: "Maybe, but only from the male point of view. But there's certainly enough information on the Internet and in bookstores to understand the process from a woman's perspective." (Rolls his mouthful around – he agrees) "Let's move on to some fundamental system design issues. What do you see as the overall packaging look? It's got to have some visual appeal. It can't be a turnoff and look like something in a hospital lab or an exercise machine." I: "Good point." (I take another bite for time to think) "How about this? We usually associate sex with a bed. What if we used a sofa bed as the basic platform? Folded up, it looks like an ordinary couch in an office; unfolded, we have our comfortable mattress plus." Hank: (Licks his finger clean of maple icing; takes a lemon-filled donut with powdered sugar that falls onto his shirt) "Perfect. There would be plenty of room in the back and underneath the pullout section for our servos, sensors, and controls. But there are dozens of different positions that a woman can lie on the mattress, and they do come in all sizes, Jack. We'll have to come up with some scheme to determine where the female subject is, and just where the important parts of her body are, while still allowing her freedom of movement. None of this bondage shit, or strapping her down like she's having an MRI." I: (Reaching for another glazed donut – they're my favorite.) "When you think about it, it's actually the same problem we had with the beef side butchering system, where we adapted the traveling arm and laser indicator scheme that car washes use. We can incorporate the size and position analysis motions into a form of foreplay; like using lambs wool or velvet fingers to lightly stroke the woman's body all over, while capturing the necessary positional data for the servos. I know that kind of stimulation can really get Melissa going." Hank: (Grinning while rolling his donut bite around) "Oh, yeah, I know what you mean. Patti is especially fond of me lightly dragging a strip of chamois leather all over her body. She goes apeshit when I get to the insides of her thighs and drag it across her pussy. Oh, pardon me. If we're going scientific here, with our good doctor Carr as our client, we'll have to use the proper terminology. My sexual partner becomes sensuously aroused from light to moderate tactile stimulation of her general pubic region, with particular focus on the inner and outer labia." I: (Chuckling at Hank's parody of techno-babble) "Feeling up her pussy will do just fine, Hank. But I have a question: how do we mask out all the motor and servo noise? That would be a definite turn-off, along with the visual offense of so much apparatus around the woman. And don't forget that we need to get some subject feedback for stimulation technique and strength." VAL v1.4 Hank: (Frowns at the puzzling question. Drinks more coffee while in thought, then opens eyes wide with an idea) "How about we use one of those headsets with imaging visors that they use in the high-end simulators and games? We could display real-time video images, while playing back digital recordings of sexy sounds. We could even have an infra-red scanner on the retina of her eye to detect which images get her strongest attention and reaction. And pulse rate measurement would be a piece of cake. We can also have a mini-mike to monitor her audible feedback, even with speech recognition of key words." Back and forth we brainstormed for most of the morning, and by the time the dozen donuts and coffee had been consumed, we had a reasonable concept ready to document on our 3-D Computer-aided-design system. We didn't even stop for lunch - especially after six donuts apiece. By five o'clock I had perspective layouts of our concept and Hank had a bunch of computer program flow diagrams detailed. We carpool it to and from the shop, and on the way home, Hank had one more 'slight snag' to discuss. "You know, Jack," he said. "Working for 8-10 hours each day on techniques to get a woman stimulated and fucked to orgasm is going to make us hornier than teenagers with their first dirty magazine. And knowing you, I can imagine that some night when you and Melissa are engaged in hot, sweaty sex, you're going to be tempted to call a timeout to analyze what it is that you two are doing. Or even worse, you'll write yourself one of those notes on that pad you keep on your nightstand for sudden midnight brainstorms. This is one project that we definitely don't bring any work home, and it probably should be handled on a need-to-know basis, like the government classified stuff." Hank knows me only too well, and I had nothing to say to defend myself. I waited until we were stopped at the next traffic light before replying. "You're right, Hank," I said. "It will be better to handle this project as if it were Top Secret. How about as a cover, we tell Melissa and Patti that we've been engaged by someone who wants to automate figure measurements for custom-fitted designer jeans? It would explain why we'll have female mannekins and anatomical measuring apparatus in the shop, whenever they come by. Speaking of anatomy, have you given any thought to what kinds of lab surrogates we can use to replicate a live woman?" Hank replied, "Hey, I'm the programmer here; hardware is your responsibility. My suggestion is to modify our female trauma victim mannekin, and make her, as they say, anatomically correct. We can buy artificial vaginas and penises through any number of sex stores on the Internet. And I intend to create some simulated biological response profiles to use for first-cut sensory feedback data. That should be good enough for a while, anyway." Little did we know at the time that Hank had put his finger on the major obstacle in the engineering path toward a successfully operating system. Dr. Carr bought into our concept design, and we negotiated and signed a contract the following week. Hank and I immediately dived into the design and development phase. We give all of our projects some acronym name, followed by the software and hardware version number. We called this project VAL, for Virtual Automated Lover, and so our first model was VALv1.0. (Hint to anyone buying new software: NEVER spend money for any version labeled 1.0, unless you're ready for a boxful of bugs.) The Internet sex stores yielded everything we needed to convert VictimFv1.7, a prototype female trauma robot left over from that project, into Victoria, our lab subject. When we finished with her upgrades, she was complete with a penetrable artificial vagina including clit, which had its own pressure sensor for sensory feedback. We also added bendable and spreadable legs, and cyber-skin plastic breasts with touch sensors under the nipples. Mostly through empirical trial-and-error tests and adjustments, we eventually got a working prototype system built into a standard sofa bed. Its servo-mechanisms could stroke and caress Victoria in all the right places under software control. You would have to be a techno-geek to understand the elation and high-fiving between Hank and me when, for the first time, our PC-driven robot actually located Victoria's plastic pussy and thrust an eight-inch dildo into it. By the end of the fourth week, we had advanced to VALv1.2, which could execute three different types of foreplay stimulation as well as penetrate Victoria's vagina with a variety of movements and energies. We were well ahead of schedule, we thought. The last major step we had left to do was close the servomechanism loop with sensory feedback data from Vicky. That was where the thread got caught in the zipper of progress. "It's just no good, Jack," Hank said dejectedly mid-morning on Tuesday of Week 5. "I totally under-estimated how long the computer response time would be for using canned lookup files for simulating female bio-sensory data for stimulation feedback. We have pulse rate, breathing rate, audible sounds, and EKG brainwave data to simulate. Even with a 4X acceleration of all the file lookups and simplified datapoint interpolation algorithms, it's well over five-point-two seconds to get a next-motion decision. And even then, all I've got is an educated guess on how a woman would actually respond from that kind of stimulation." Hank demonstrated how the simulated responses to VAL's foreplay stroking of Victoria's body parts were slow and erratic. The simulated intercourse was even worse – the feedback delay of Hank's canned physiological reactions by Victoria was long enough to sometimes make VAL's in/out motions and intensity levels go completely unstable. This was a very, very large problem. Hank had made some reasonable judgments (we thought, but weren't sure) on what would be a woman's reactions to various movements we had mechanized VAL to perform. Their simulations in software simply took too long for his computer program to reproduce and change, whenever VAL's stimuli were varied. Hitting a serious roadblock in a project is nothing new to Hank and me. My experience has been that getting around, over, or somehow past that roadblock usually involves swallowing your egotistical pride and shit-canning your first approach to search for another one. It was time for another brainstorm session. It was also time for lunch, so we went to our second venue for conceptual thinking: the all-you-can-eat buffet lunch at the Mandarin Pagoda, a small Chinese restaurant near the shop. In between snarfing pot-stickers, fried won-ton, beef with pea pods and tomatoes, General Tso's chicken, and sweet and sour pork, we talked about what Hank needed for his software. "So what we're going to have to do, Jack, is to get some live response feedback to record and use in our tests," Hank concluded. "The real problem, then, is who can we get to volunteer to be our laboratory fox?" Little did we know that there were candidates already waiting for us at the shop. We returned a little past one o'clock, and were surprised to see Melissa and Patti standing in the workshop. It was fairly common practice for them to drop by after a shopping trip to the nearby mall, but they usually called first, and Hank and I could cover up our 'Top-Secret' work. But this time, Hank and I were caught with our pants down - or more correctly, with Victoria's panties off. Our two wives were examining her, lying on her back on the sofa bed, with legs wide open, and VAL's dildo/penis pointed straight at her obvious target. In Melissa's hand was a reject artificial vagina, part of our Internet shopping, that I had facetiously commandeered as a pencil holder for my drafting table. "Oh, shit," I whispered to Hank. "Better start thinking of a good explanation for Patti. Melissa's going to bust my balls about this." Our wives heard us come into the shop, and Melissa stared me down with a look cold enough to make me shiver. "All right, you perverts!" she barked at us. "Just what the hell have you been up to?" Hank spoke while I was still collecting my thoughts. "Melissa, it's not what you think. This is really a contract job. For Celeste. She's a sex therapist. She wants us to make a robot to help women enjoy sex more." Both Melissa and Patti gave him that 'Yea, you expect me to believe that' stare. I was almost expecting a cloud to form in the room, the disbelief and tension was so chillingly heavy. Hank looked at me, his eyes begging for help. "Hank's right, honey," I said. "This really is a bona fide customer-specified project. Our client is a Dr. Celeste Carr Dobbs, who runs a psychology clinic in the city. I can show you the contract." I went on to relate the whole story to our wives, down to the details of ordering the sex toys on the Internet. I'm not certain, but I think it was Patti who first became interested, but, to Hank's and my relief, in about fifteen minutes both of our wives had calmed down enough to begin asking questions about Victoria and VAL. You would have to know Hank to really understand how verbose he can get when he has an opportunity to talk about whatever engineering project he is working on. Someone once described him by saying, "Don't ever ask Hank for the time of day; you'll wind up listening to him explain how a watch works." Patti and Melissa were used to his going on and on about things technical, and had developed techniques (or possibly defense mechanisms) to throttle down his motor mouth and cut to the chase. It didn't take very long before they comprehended what the project concept and intent was, and then they, too, became intrigued. Proving once again, if you want to get someone's attention, just say the word 'sex.' I was feeling lots of pride in Hank's and my accomplishments, as he chattered on about the neat features of Victoria, our prototype subject, and how VAL could be programmed to arouse her, from light caresses to super-human intercourse. Melissa, as usual, cut me off at the knees when I started boasting on how well VAL can operate. "And what makes you such an expert on sex, Jack?" she asked. "I doubt if you know more than five different positions, and even less about what kinds of foreplay really make a woman hot." "I couldn't agree with you more, Melissa," Hank declared, trying to ingratiate himself with Melissa. "Jack probably doesn't know what it takes to make you hot." This time, Hank's impetuous speech backfired on him. Patti whirled on him, and blasted him, as well as me. "And I suppose you do, Mr. I-fucked-them-both-in-college," she exclaimed. "Let me tell you, sweetie: you're no hot shot expert on that subject, either. I think that neither of you two know jack shit about what you're doing here." Hank didn't argue, simply saying, "Actually, honey, you've touched on the crux of the matter. Our project is bogged down at the moment because we can't simulate Victoria's sensory reactions in real time. We need some help and advice; from the woman's point of view." It never ceases to amaze me how my technically brilliant, but socially clumsy, partner can continually step into shit, and then come out with a shoe shine. He had said the magic words: 'need help from a woman,' and almost immediately, both Patti and Melissa were listening intently to Hank, their earlier anger and disbelief totally suspended. He explained how his software required actual sensory feedback data in real time, so that the servos and stimulation movements could employ the artificial intelligence he and I had designed into them. Right now, you're probably drawing as blank a stare as Melissa and Patti were at that moment. I stepped into the discussion to try to clear things up for the women. "Here's the problem," I began. "Per Dr. Carr's specifications, VAL here is supposed to be superior to all the masturbation toys and so-called fucking machines ..." "Like the Sybian™ machine," Patti blurted out, then blushed as I stared at her, surprised that she was aware of such a product. "I saw it one time, on the Internet," she explained defensively. "You saw it, too, Melissa. You were there as well." After staring at Melissa and raising my eyebrows over this disclosure, I continued, "Well, since we're talking to such knowledgeable people, let me tell you how VAL here is supposed to be superior to the state-of-art sex toys, and what Hank's and my problem is." Hank and I demonstrated what we had already done, and we described how we could sense a female subject's reactions to arousal stimulation, right through intercourse. We went on to show how we could evaluate that data and adjust VAL's motions and intensity, thereby optimizing the positive sensations for the woman. I concluded with showing Melissa and Patti how canned patterns for feedback were too slow and limited, and we were stumped on how to test and improve on VAL's capabilities. "So let me get this straight," Melissa said to us. "Your robot here is designed to turn on a woman and give her some of the best sex she's ever had." "Correct." "And that what's it here ..." "Hank and I call it VAL, honey. It stands for Virtual Automated Lover." "Whatever. But it is supposed to slow down, speed up, change techniques, and so on, all based upon the woman's heart rate, breathing, and muscle movements." "Yeah, that's what it is theoretically supposed to do. Only we're stuck on proving it through testing, because we don't have the right kind of real-time feedback data." Melissa looked at me, and her eyes had that certain sparkle that she gets when she is turned on to something. It could be finding that just right pair of shoes at a store sale, or a particularly stimulating article in a newspaper or magazine. It also happens when she is feeling sexy. "This I got to see. Hank, get that plastic and metal bimbo off that bed, and wire me up. I want to try out your VAL thing." "Are you really sure you want to do this, honey?" I asked. "Patti and Hank are here, too, you know." To my astonishment, Melissa and Patti both argued for the opportunity to try out VAL. They flipped a coin to determine who would go first. Melissa won. I told them that Dr. Carr had said that her normal patient routine is to have the patient disrobe and wear a shorty kimono, and she had provided us with two samples. I suggested that Melissa and Patti use the former ladies' locker room and change into the robes there, while I disconnected Victoria and cleaned up the sofa bed and Hank readied VAL's computer software to accept real-time feedback data from our actual sensors. When our two wives returned, each now looking quite sexy with shapely bare legs displayed under floral print silk kimonos. Hank introduced Melissa to the sofa bed and VAL. It was bizarre, to say the least, observing Hank give instructions to my wife, prior to her getting it on with VAL. And all the while I was standing next to his wife, who was equally interested. It didn't seem to phase either Hank or Melissa, as they diligently acted as though this was just another ordinary laboratory test. He picked up the modified EKG electrodes he needed to attach to Melissa's body, and he calmly asked her if she wanted to be nude or keep her kimono on, and whether she wanted to use the missionary or the doggie position. "What the hell," she said, grinning at me and winking at Patti, as she dropped her robe. "Might as well go all the way. And I'll choose missionary." She stretched out on her back on the sofa bed, and Hank attached the EKG sensors to specific locations on her body, which he then connected to the laptop computer system. "Jack and I realized the noise and appearance of VAL's servos would be a turn-off, Melissa," he said. "So we've got a virtual reality headset for you to wear. It's got some sound-cancelling headphones and a miniature plasma video display for you to look at. At first, you will see a sequence of ten second previews of video, ranging from sensuous outdoor scenes to artistic male and female nudes, all the way to a porno flick. They all have matching sound tracks. To pick one that you think will put you in the right mood, just say, 'Yes,' or 'Hotter.' Now, Melissa, make yourself comfortable on the bed. Start your background music and video, and when you're ready to get it on with VAL the robot, just squeeze that grab bar at the head of the bed. And any time you want to stop, just let go. VAL is completely under your control." Melissa took a deep breath, and put on the virtual reality headset. Seeing my wife's naked breasts and trimmed pussy exposed to Hank and Patti, as well as my anticipation of what I was about to witness, made me aroused, and my cock became partially erect. Patti noticed the bulge in my pants, and she laughed at my predicament, and playfully squeezed my cock. She followed me to my position at the laptop PC on a table nearby, where I could control the motions of VAL. Melissa selected the sensuous music and nude visuals and settled into position. I was pretty confident that our system would work mechanically, but wasn't at all sure about how it would react to the sensor feedback from a live subject. There was a finite possibility that something could go amok, and Melissa might be injured by VAL. Hank, Patti, and I stared intently at Melissa lying on the sofa bed, as she squirmed around to get comfortable. None of us could see her face because of the headset, and I wondered what she was feeling at that moment. The tension in the room was not unlike what it must be in NASA's control center just before liftoff. When Melissa used the grab bar, servo motors began to whir, and an aluminum frame in the back of the sofa bed moved forward. A laser beam shining downward reflected off the sheet that covered the mattress, which allowed the system to detect where her shoulders were located. The top section of the frame then lowered itself and stopped when two of four dangling soft chamois leather strips lightly brushed against her face. This told the computer precisely where Melissa's head was, and then the mechanized arm dragged the chamois sensors down her torso and across her hips and legs. This first pass determined the position and size of Melissa's body, and I entered the command for initiating tactile stimulation. The frame went slowly up and down her legs, pussy and breasts, tickling her body with the soft leather strips for about a minute. I was observing from the front, and I noticed that as Melissa was stroked, she would arch her back and sigh with pleasure. I punched the keyboard on the PC to activate the next step, which lowered a plastic tube that blew warmed, aromatic air across Melissa's body, pausing to scan across her thighs so that the air tickled her vagina, and at the same time pinpointing its co-ordinates to the program. Melissa murmured contentedly, relaxing more with each pass of the stroking and air kisses. I entered another command, and this time the arm rotated to expose a common dusting tool (purchased at Target – hey, we had a small budget) that contacted Melissa's rib cage and slowly and lightly brushed over her breasts. This action gave our computer program the profile of her breasts and where her nipples were located. Melissa jumped and squealed in surprise when two soft plastic cylinders connected to a vacuum pump lowered from the arm assembly and positioned themselves on her breasts. The vacuum made the cylinders attach themselves around her breasts, and two tiny soft rubber wheels inside each cylinder began to rotate to tease her nipples. They were programmed to sometimes flick against a nipple, other times to press tightly against it and also pinch and pull. A microphone in her headset and the EKG sensors picked up Melissa's voice and body reactions to all of these stimulations, and the program remembered which particular motions and strengths elicited the strongest reactions. VAL v1.4 By now Melissa was sighing and her skin was getting flushed, definitely getting turned on. She opened her legs wider, and began to purr like a contented kitten, just as she usually does when enjoying foreplay. I went to the next phase, which controlled an oscillating vibrator, equipped with soft plastic rubber ribs much like an electric toothbrush – recommended by Dr. Ruth, the website had boasted. It moved to advance from the back frame and go between her legs to stimulate her inner thighs. As the vibrator moved closer to Melissa's pussy and clit, I watched her body squirm and her legs open wider to admit the stimulating little head. It didn't take very long for the probe to be guided by her moans and body signals to make contact with her clit, at which time Melissa cried out loudly. I was elated that the system automatically detected the precise location and movement that gave Melissa the strongest sensations and dwelled on that particular location before changing to another for variety. When that motion did not get as much reaction from Melissa, VAL returned to the one that did. "Oh, my God, this is great!" Melissa cried out. "I'm in heaven. I never know where the next feeling or sensation is going to be! Oh , this is so good! Aah, that makes my clit tingle. Oh, God, I want to be fucked!" Melissa said the magic word, and the speech recognition software in the computer recognized it as a command to withdraw the vibrator and move a dildo forward, pressing it against her vagina. I had to make a minor co-ordinate correction to the dildo servo, and guided the lubricated shaft past her labial lips to let it slide into her vagina. Melissa gasped from the penetration and thrust her hips upward, allowing the dildo to slide in deeper. "Oh, yes!" she cried. "Oh, yes, yes, yes! Oh, keep fucking me, please!" Melissa wasn't the only one getting excited at how well our robotic lover was performing. I looked over at Patti, and gasped to see her robe slightly parted, her hand between her legs, playing with herself. I caught Hank's attention, and pointed to Patti. Soon Patti noticed us noticing her, and she opened her robe and flashed us before she went back to playing with her pussy and watching Melissa with VAL. The biofeedback controls on the dildo, vibrator and breast stimulators continued to drive Melissa toward her first climax. I had no idea what sensor levels would be correct for her orgasm, so I kept observing her until I thought that she was almost there. Then I entered the 'Maintain this level' command, and watched what would happen. The robot slowed down the in and out strokes of the dildo, at times just penetrating Melissa to its head, other times slowly pushing all the way in and then slowly withdrawing. Occasionally, it withdrew altogether, and energized the breast stimulators. Whenever Melissa mewed her disappointment of being let down, VAL sensed it, and began to strengthen her stimulation until she almost reached her peak once again. I let VAL continue this routine to stretch out Melissa's excitation for over ten minutes. By then Melissa was almost frantic with her arousal. Finally, she shouted, "Oh, God, I can't take this much longer! Oh, please let me come! I want to come so badly! Fuck me! Fuck me hard! Now!" I punched in the 'Save sensor data' command, and then told the robot to fuck to orgasm. The ram drove the dildo all the way into Melissa's vagina, and thrust in and out much faster than any human male could have done. At the same time, the nipple stimulators tormented Melissa's breasts, and her screams of ecstasy almost frightened Hank and me. The program also registered the intensity and executed the penis ejaculation mode before slowing down the stroking, but it did not stop. This was what Dr. Carr had said they wanted, and which few human males could perform. I watched to see what Melissa's reaction would be as she was continually fucked after VAL had cum inside her. We counted three more orgasms before Melissa finally stopped the machine. I reached down to help Melissa off the bed and took off the virtual reality headset. Her knees were still rubbery from the excitement, and she had to use me for support to put on her kimono and get to a chair. Patti offered Melissa a glass of water, which she gulped down greedily. After a while, her breathing and composure was pretty much back to normal, and she could talk about her experience. "Holy shit, Jack. That machine is fucking fantastic! No offense, sweetheart, but never have I been so turned on like that. I especially liked when he - no, it - would bring me up almost to the point of coming, and then string me out. The feeling was incredible! And then, when he kept on fucking me after he came in me, that was just too much. Patti, you've got to try this thing!" Patti said, "Oh, believe me, I will, after seeing what it did for you, Melissa. I'm already dripping after watching that thing work you over. Jack, is there any way that we can skip the foreplay? My pussy is already fired up and wants to feel a cock inside it." I told her that we first needed to switch personal dildos before she could start. Then the system needed to go through all of its modes to determine where the critical target points are on the subject's body. But I assured that her feedback signals should tell the computer when she was ready for the next phase, and the foreplay would be short but sweet. Patti stripped of her kimono, and, at Hank's suggestion, she tried the doggie position. The sensors needed some corrections to locate Patti's clit from the underside, but her test flight had results similar to those of Melissa's. By the time that Patti was up to her orgasmic level and being drawn out, however, I was almost frantic with a huge erection. I wanted to come so badly. Melissa noticed me, and unzipped my pants to take my cock into her mouth to lubricate it with her saliva. She only sucked once or twice, and then turned around and bent over the laptop table. "Come on, Mr. Inventor. This time I want the real thing." I admit that I came long before VAL did, but Melissa told me later she enjoyed my cock and cum just as much. After Patti came down from her high, she let Hank fuck her like Melissa did me. The four of us took showers together in the shop bathroom, and then we went into the hot tub to discuss our experiences of that afternoon. I thanked Melissa and Patti for becoming such a vital part of our development team, and reminded everyone that we still had work to do before we delivered VAL to our client, Dr. Carr. But the majority of the discussion revolved around what the four of us were going to do after we delivered VAL to the customer. Hank suggested that we build a second system for our own use. I expressed my concerns that we might have opened a Pandora's box. I asked, "What does everyone feel about what happened this afternoon? I've got to admit that it's pretty weird to think that Hank and I designed a robot that fucked our wives' brains out. This could destroy both our marriages and our friendships." It was Patti who made the decision for us. "I don't think that will happen, Jack," she said. "That was some of the finest recreational sex that I have ever had in all my life. And all the while I was getting it on with VAL, I felt that I had received a gift from the man I truly love. And there certainly was no sneaking behind one's back, and VAL here will not kiss and tell. I think that Melissa will say the same thing. Let me ask you, Jack. What do you feel, after you watched Melissa getting laid like that?" I thought about that a minute, then answered, "I feel proud that I was the one who made something that could give her so much pleasure. And I have to say that I felt the same thing when I watched you, Patti. It really was a turn-on for me as well, to see the sexual pleasure that you women enjoyed from getting it on with an android that Hank and I developed." Hank said, "I feel the same way, Jack. It blew my mind to see Patti and Melissa have such intense orgasms. And I would imagine that any woman will get as much pleasure as you two did today, if she gets to try out that machine. Who knows how many of Dr. Carr's clients will have their lives changed by what VAL can do?" Melissa agreed with Patti and Hank, and from then on, the four of us collaborated on Celeste Carr's android sex surrogate. At Melissa's and Patti's suggestions, Hank and I made some changes to the foreplay stimulation techniques and devised a different scheme of dildo thrusting. Patti also suggested that the headset display videos should include a point of view option of a male partner, just as if the female subject were looking at him. When I said that a video like that would be hard to find, she blushed and announced that she had one with those very same scenes in her private collection. Hank was surprised to learn that Patti even had a porno flick collection. It took three more weeks to roll out VALv1.4. About every third day, we scheduled afternoon 'lab tests' for Melissa and Patti. By the second week, their co-workers and some of our neighborhood wives began asking them the reason for their satisfied smiles and enthusiastic attitudes they seemed to be displaying all the time. Melissa's standard reply was that their feelings were simply the pleasure of being able to work with their husbands on a common project. And Hank and I learned that our partners have a much greater appetite for sex than we had realized. Suffice it to say that VAL was not a rival or threat to either of us. Both Patti and Melissa had plenty left over for their husbands. On the day of the acceptance tests for Celeste Carr, Melissa and Patti prepared a 'christening' party, complete with champagne, hors d'euvres and petit fours. Dr. Carr brought one of her surrogate partners with her to test VAL. The surrogate had no reservations about getting it on with our android, even with the five of us observing. She was extremely enthusiastic about the robot's performance, so much so that she persuaded Celeste to give VAL a go as well. When Celeste regained her composure and got her clothes back on, she wrote out a check for the negotiated amount, plus a $5,000 bonus. She also mentioned that if VAL worked as well with her dysfunctional clients at her clinic, she wanted to license other clinics around the country. That really pleased Hank and me. Any product manufacturer will tell you that it is the follow-on orders that really bring in the profits. I expressed our gratitude to Dr. Carr, while receiving the check from her. "Thank you, Celeste, for giving Ramscott this opportunity. The bonus is going to Patti and Melissa. Without them, Jack and I would not have been successful. Have you got any final words to say, Hank?" Hank, in his usual earthy manner, lifted his champagne glass to propose a toast. "To VAL, and may he benefit all the ladies that are introduced to him. And to you, Celeste, for your generosity and faith in Ramscott. You know, this may very well be the first engineering project in history where the customer got really fucked over, and the designers got a bonus for it." Since that memorable prototype development phase, VAL is still an on-going project in the Ramscott shop. A couple of months after taking delivery of VALv1.4, Serial No. 001, Dr. Carr placed an order for three more units. With the normal material overage and some personal orders, Hank and I built a fifth unit that sits in the shop's conference room, looking innocently like any ordinary sofa. About three or four times a month, Melissa and Patti come down to the shop to get it on with VAL (and us). Hank programmed a maximum usage limit into its computer, however, in case our wives get too addicted to mechanical fucking. Both of them can achieve multiple orgasms in an evening, between VAL and Hank and me. It's not yet happened, but after one session last week, the girls discussed the idea of inviting Kathy, one of our neighbors, who was roughly dumped and divorced by her husband a year back. In a long crying session with Melissa recently, Kathy confided to Melissa that she has been extremely frustrated sexually, being without a man. Hank and I suspect that the women are working up to agreeing to a fivesome, if and when the time is right. Meanwhile, Hank and I have begun working on design specifications for VALv2.0, adding enhancements that the four of us have thought of. We're also waiting for user feedback from Dr. Carr's clinic as well. There might be some interesting stories from satisfied VAL users that she will share with us. In the meantime, if you have any suggestions as to what a robot like VAL could do to enhance a woman's life, I'd be delighted to hear from you, too.