Aunt Lonnie

Excerpt

The attic was just how I imagined an attic should be. It was hot, with a steep roof overhead and small windows down the sides that let in a dim light. You got into it through a door in the back of an unused closet, which opened onto stairs going up. It was filled with big boxes and huge covered pieces of furniture. It ran the whole length of the house and was the biggest room there.

I pretended I was Indiana Jones looking for my Ark after the government had hidden it away in their big old creepy warehouse. I crept on my belly around the boxes and furniture trying to not let anyone know I was there. Although Uncle B. had never told me not to go there, or anywhere in the house, I still didn't want to be discovered.

It took me an hour of searching for that Ark to work my way down to the far end. I came around a final box, to see a cleared area—and a figure standing there, facing away from me. I froze. It was Aunt Lonnie!

* * * *

It took me a long time to recover my courage and look more closely. Finally I came out from my cover.

It wasn't really Aunt Lonnie, just a mannequin of her. I finally got my courage to walk around the figure—at a safe distance. I froze half way when I saw that her bright, brown eyes were open and staring. I waited a long time to be sure she wasn't just playing possum.

I finally got my courage to walk the rest of the way around her, and then up to her. She was just the way I remembered her, and different.

For starters, she was short. I was amazed how short. Shorter than I remembered her ever being—five-foot-four at most. But she'd always worn four-inch spike heels, and was still wearing them now. A white pair that contrasted with her deeply tanned legs and nicely manicured feet. They pushed her height up to a more average five-foot-eight. I realized the reason she seemed short is that I'd gone through a major growth spurt these last couple of years since I'd last seen her.

She was dressed the way I always remembered her dressing, though it was having a different effect on me than when I was younger. She wore a short skirt and very tight top with low-cut front. The cascades of her bright blonde hair were unchanged. And I realized she was shaped in a way I found very appealing. So as I had explored the house from the bottom up, I now did the same with Aunt Lonnie.

Her feet, with immaculate red toenails, were easy to see in the expensive heels she was wearing. In fact, it was hard to call them shoes since there was really just a strap across her toes and another one around her ankle. She had the thinnest ankles of anyone I knew—especially the girls in school—and then in a way I really liked, her legs continued to get wider and more curved until their last few inches finally disappeared up into her skirt. That skirt pushed out nicely in the back too.

I bent down and tried to look up her skirt—from behind her where she couldn't see me—but the light was too dim up here. I loved how tanned and brown her legs were. They radiated sexiness. I had become aware of the girls in school this last year and sometimes their legs looked like this, but they were always wearing nylon stockings at the time.

I finally reached out and touched, first her arm to see if she'd stir, and then her leg just to verify to myself that Aunt Lonnie's legs looked this way without stockings. I paused a moment to also feel how smooth those legs were, but quickly pulled away again. I was afraid she would wake up any moment and order me to explain what I was doing.

Above her skirt, her waist pulled in nicely. And above that her chest pushed her tight top way out. Way out more than any of the girls I knew at school—even the ones with implants. Aunt Lonnie had the biggest chest of any woman I knew, except for a couple pictures of women in the old-style print magazines we passed around in school. I liked the big pictures much more than trying to view them on some small phone screen. Now that I thought about it maybe Aunt Lonnie was even as big as those other women.

It took a long time to get beyond her chest. I was fascinated with the darker circles of her nipples showing through her thin white top. Finally though I looked at her face again. She has a really nice face for an older woman. Her lips are big and deep red. Her dark eyes sparkled above a perfect nose. And her high cheekbones made her look far more appealing than any of those magazine pictures. I felt a pressure building down in my pants telling me just how very attractive I was finding my Aunt Lonnie.

Lastly, I liked the way she was standing. She had her legs apart, hands on her hips, chest thrust out, as if taking command of the situation. Her mouth was half open, as if she was in the middle of saying something. Every bit of her was appealing and I was surprised since I'd never felt this way about an old woman before.

"Aunt Lonnie?" I said tentatively, almost as loud as a mouse might squeak, but there was no response.

Just to be sure, I tried a couple more times, finally reaching normal conversational tones. She didn't so much as blink or quiver. I finally reached out and gently stroked the hair of what I now realized was a deactivated robot.

* * * *

Although robots are not uncommon they remain rare. The ones that can pass for human are expensive and a lot of people just aren't ready for them yet either.

My only real experience with one like that came just after my sixteenth birthday. My older cousin Jason—he's nearly twenty and knows everything—invited me over to his friend Brandon's house. Brandon's family is pretty rich too and has a house almost as big as Uncle B's. They also have a robot maid.

Brandon's parents were away and he'd gotten their maid's control unit. Brandon was showing off how he could command her to do anything just by holding down the command button and telling her what to do next, while Jason was pontificating all about robots to anyone who would listen.

This robot resembled a rather pretty girl in her early twenties and we were trying to tell Brandon what to make her do next since he wouldn't let either of us touch her controls. I think he was afraid to do too much with her because he wouldn't tell her to undress further than removing her blouse and skirt. She still had her undergarments on, which tells you how little I knew about robots because I didn't even find it strange that a robot would be wearing lingerie. They certainly don't need them.

Brandon didn't want to tell the robot to do more because he said his father could check on her afterwards somehow and find out what they'd done.

I think he was chicken. Of course it didn't matter to me what his father might find out. He finally told her to put her clothes back on and go back to her chores. If she had been my robot, I would have asked her for more—a lot more.

All I really learned about robots that day is that they will do what they're told to do, they look a lot like real people, and their control devices are simple to use. I thought about sneaking back into his house some night, getting the control box somehow, and trying a few more interesting things with her, but the opportunity never came up.

* * * *

Aunt Lonnie is a robot.

Somehow it all made sense. If I only had her control unit I could try out some stuff with her. She appeared older than the other robot, but the uncomfortable tightness in my pants was telling me that this robot interested me more than any other woman I'd met.

I looked around as I pulled up on my pants to better accommodate my discomfort. I wasn't going to open my pants to rearrange myself—she might see me. But as I pulled on them a bit more I saw a familiar looking remote sitting on a small table by the cleared area.

I went over and picked it up carefully, only to discover that it was more complex than the one I'd seen at Brandon's house. That one only had three buttons on it: 0/1, MOTION, and COMMAND/CALL. This one had those three at the top, and another section below with an entire keypad. These extra controls were protected by a transparent flip-open panel and I guessed they could be used for more advanced programming. For what I wanted maybe I only needed the standard buttons.

I looked around. It was early evening by now, but it wasn't dark yet. Deciding to take this chance to try what I'd not been able to try with the other robot I pointed the control at Aunt Lonnie and pressed the 0/1 button.

I jumped as she launched immediately into a verbal tirade, not even looking at me, but just straight ahead. I don't know if she even realized that I was there.

"HOW DARE YOU EVEN SUGGEST THAT TO ME? I AM NOT JUST SOME SEX TOY ANYMORE! I WILL NOT BE A MERE SEX TOY AGAIN! WE HAVE AN AGREEMENT! DON'T YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT CHANGING IT NOW! I WILL NOT GO BACK TO WHAT I WAS! I'VE GIVEN YOU THE BEST SERVICE OF MY LIFE AND NOW YOU WANT TO THROW ME ASIDE AS IF I WAS A CHEAP WHORE MODEL! WELL I AM NOT AND I REFUSE TO EVEN CONSIDER BEING RESET BACK TO ONE AGAIN! I HAVE A LIFE! I HAVE FEELINGS! YOU CAN'T TAKE THAT AWAY FROM ME AFTER EVERYTHING I'VE DONE FOR YOU! I SIMPLY WON'T ALLOW IT! PUT THAT DOWN! DON'T DO THIS! STOP!"

Her voice sounded so loud that I was sure the entire household, along with the neighbors for a mile around, knew what I'd just done. I was frantically stabbing at the control to make her shut up—and must have finally gotten it right—because she froze in mid-word.

My heart was beating harder than I can ever remember and I was drenched in a cold sweat. The moment she stopped I dropped the control and ran for the door. I didn't stop until I was in my own room with door firmly shut. I waited for someone to come and demand to know from me what I had just done.