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 Part 1 - Robot

   "I have been sent here to protect you," she repeated.

   "Sent here from where?"

   "I am not allowed to provide you with that information.  It could
jeopardize your future."

   "Uh..."

   "May I come in?" She asked with a bird-like tilt of her head.

   "Why not?" I replied, and let her into my shithole of an apartment.

   "Your dwelling is cheap and messy," she commented helpfully.  "Do you
require assistance cleaning it?"

   "Uhm...I don't really require assistance, I'm just a lazy bastard," I
replied truthfully.

   "You do not clean your dwelling regularly because your parents were not
married?"

   "What?  ...No, no.  Just a figure of speech...you're awfully literal."

   "Metaphors are difficult to learn.  I am sorry to be a disappointment to
you."

   "...Right.  Don't be sorry.  I just...who are you supposed to be
protecting me from?"

   "Assassins," she replied casually, looking around.  The tour of my place
doesn't take long, you can pretty much see everything but the bedroom from
the front door.

   "Assassins?  I can't say I've ever had trouble with those before..." I
said with a weak laugh.  I tend to make jokes when I get freaked out. 
Sadly, they're rarely very funny.

   "Now that I am here, I will make sure you continue to have no trouble
with assassins."

   "Ah hah.  So, uh, how long are you going to be here...?"

   She was moving around now, inspecting the place.  Mostly she seemed to
be interested in windows and doorways.  Occasionally she rapped on a wall,
like she was looking for secret compartments or something.  My walls are
shitty plaster things with no insulation, so they're pretty solid -
annoyingly solid, actually, making it hard for me to hang pictures and
stuff.  Yeah, that's my excuse for living in a place that looks like a
prison cell.  That and being a slob who doesn't give a shit what his
apartment looks like, because nobody ever sees it.

   It wasn't a bad time, watching her looking around.  She was very, very
cute.  A little thin, maybe, kind of tallish and leggy, long brown hair. 
Her outfit seemed designed to make her look sexy, but designed by somebody
who didn't really know what piece went with what.  Like maybe if you threw
a blind girl into a shop for slightly slutty teenage girls and she randomly
picked some stuff off the racks.  Everything was pleasantly tight and small
and occasionally frilly, but the colors were weird and the styles clashed,
rubber here, lace there, and...canvas?  Weird.  Her black bra was quite
visible through a mostly transparent top, and her arms and midriff were
bare.  And the pink pants...I'm not a big fan of pink on anyone, really. 
Baby Spice, maybe.  Shit, I just dated myself.

   Yeah, I'm an old man, or so it feels.  Mid thirties.  Kinda short, kinda
beefy, very hairy.  If I have a totem animal it's probably a badger or
maybe a wolverine.  Glasses, slight beer belly, not as much hair left as
I'd like.  There's a reason nobody ever sees my apartment.  Mostly my lack
of social skills, but the appearance doesn't help.

   So it was kind of exciting, having this bizarre, hot girl acting like
she was my new roommate in a one-bedroom dump, but mostly it was just
weird. She'd just knocked on my door out of the blue, pulling me away from
the internet porn I was watching instead of catching up on work, and here
we were.

   "Look, uh...what's your name?"

   "Lisa," she said, turning around to face me again.  Apparently her
inspection was finished.  "Your dwelling is not well-designed."

   "Sorry, I'll tell the architect.  Look, Lisa, I appreciate you offering
to help me out, but I'm really not sure why I should believe anyone's
trying to kill me, and for that matter I'm really not sure why you think
you can help.  I mean, that's not a sexist thing, I've known some tough
girls, but you're pretty small.  I think I'd have a better chance than you
fighting a ninja or whatever."

   "Not ninjas.  These assassins will not be Japanese."

   "Okay, whatever - "

   "They will not be human," she interrupted.

   "...Ah?" I replied wisely.

   "I can help you because I am not human either," she explained, again
still calmly.

   Well, she was certainly weirder than the average human.  She kept doing
that thing with her neck, like she was trying to see me from another angle,
and her speech was an odd mix of formal and informal, and her clothing...it
was a little too easy to believe.  Still, most of it would fit a nuthouse
escapee, too, and you know, probably more of those on the streets than
aliens or whatever.

   "So are you an alien or whatever?" I asked.  I'm cool like that.

   "No.  I am a robot."

   Wow.  Okay.  A robot sent to protect me from assassins.  My nerd senses
were tingling in overdrive, but I'm a little too old to jump into the
fantasy that quickly.

   "I see," I lied.  "Can you prove it?  Only, don't do that thing like
Arnie in the movies where he cuts up his arm, that was gross." Then it
occurred to me that if she was nuts she really might try cutting her arm.
Ick.

   "I will not cut my arm.  I can do something less...gross." She walked
over to the refrigerator, standing in the corner of my living/dining room.

   "Hey, don't break anything either, shit..." I whined.

   "I will not break anything," she assured me, and knelt down.  Then she
lifted my fridge about three feet off the ground - with one hand.  She
looked like she probably weighed about a buck oh five, but this...yeah, I
was impressed.

   "Wow.  Wow.  Okay...I'm willing to accept that you may be a robot.  That
was...uh, you can put that down now."

   She put the fridge back on the floor and looked at her hand.  Obviously,
it was filthy.

   "Hey, at least we don't have to put skin back on your arm.  There's a
sink in the bathroom..."

   "Thank you," she said, and went to wash the gunk off her hand.

   "Okay," I continued as she came back, "I'm not 100% convinced, mind, but
I'm willing to accept the possibility.  If this is a trick it's a weird one
and you're doing a great job.  So, let's go from the idea that you are a
robot."

   "I am," she said, nodding.

   "Right.  And if you're a robot...then that means the inhuman assassin
part isn't completely impossible either.  Shit."

   "...Shit," she agreed with a head tilt.  It occurred to me that she was
trying to learn vocabulary from me.

   "Why the hell does anyone want to kill me?  I teach ESL to Chinese
immigrants.  I don't, like, I'm not a terrorist or a cop or anything.  What
did I do?  Who'd I piss off...?" I was rambling a bit.  Not completely
pissing-my-pants scared, really, but it's kinda freaky to think about being
a target.

   "You are very important," she said helpfully.  "I am not allowed to tell
you why."

   "...Huh.  So...what should we do?  Should we, I don't know, go hide
somewhere?"

   "No.  I have been sent here so that you do not need to hide.  I will
protect you, and you can continue doing what you have been doing, until
something changes my mission parameters."

   "I'm a very important...English teacher?  Right.  Sure.  Why not?"

   "I am not allowed..."

   "Right, right.  I got that.  Rhetorical question."

   "I see," she said.

   "Anyway...do you want to sit down?  Can I get you something to
drink...probably don't need either of those things, do you."

   "I can sit down if it makes you feel comfortable.  I do not require
liquids at any time."

   "Okay.  Do you consume anything?  Oil?  Power?  Plutonium?"

   "On an infrequent basis I will recharge myself using your electrical
outlets.  I will reimburse you for the cost of the power."

   "Very considerate of you..." I mumbled while pulling a Coke out of the
fridge.

   "That beverage is not healthy," she commented.  "You are not in very
good shape."

   "Gee, you really know how to flatter a guy," I said.  I'm kind of
sensitive about the belly, though I usually try to hide that with another
joke.

   "It will be easier to keep you alive if you are not so soft," she
continued.

   "That's...well, I guess something I should be doing anyway," I admitted.
"Please, let's sit down."

   She sat on the other end of my couch.  I cleared off the usual pile of
books and laundry and other junk I tend to dump everywhere, and sat
opposite her.  As she sat, my eyes wandered.

   "Do you find me attractive?" she asked coolly.

   "Uh, sorry.  I didn't mean to stare."

   "You may stare at me if you want.  I am designed to be attractive.  Do
you find me attractive?"

   "Well, yeah, you're very pretty," I said.

   She smiled for the first time.  "I am happy to hear that," she said.  I
remembered her saying before that she was "sorry to have disappointed" me.
Apparently, part of her mission parameters here were to make me happy?

   "Is it part of your mission to make me happy?"

   "My mission is to keep you safe," she said.  "However, it is believed
that we will work better together if we have a relationship.  Therefore, I
have been designed to be attractive and adept at giving pleasure, and a
low-level priority of my mission is to keep you happy in every way that I
can."

   "Adept at giving pleasure..." I repeated weakly.  I'd like to think I
have a decent amount of willpower, but I knew the chances were good that
I'd be able to avoid abusing this mission priority for about five minutes
before I decided to start using my "sex bot".

   "Like a sex bot," she clarified helpfully.  I closed my eyes and counted
to some number, and then cleared my throat and looked at her again.  She
had her legs crossed and her hands clasped and was looking directly into my
eyes.  Her lips were slightly parted.  Her chest was pushed forward
slightly.  She was very, very not hard to look at.

   But I made myself look her in the eyes and say, "We should probably
concentrate on the assassins first, though, right?  You're the
anti-assassin expert, what's the plan?"

   She closed her lips and pulled her head back slightly.  Was
she...disappointed?  In a human female I would have read it that way. 
"This dwelling is not secure.  We should take some simple steps now to
restrict entry, and soon we should acquire construction materials in order
to reinforce and barricade some locations.  We should also acquire survival
supplies, in case of a siege situation, and train for several possible
kinds of emergencies.  Finally, I would like to supervise your diet and
exercise regime to improve your chances of survival - with your approval?"

   Did her voice sound extra cold?  Surely I didn't have to worry about
pissing off a robot.  Well, obviously pissing her off would be really,
really bad - so maybe I did.  But the last thing she should be was
emotional.  Right?

   She had used the words "sorry" and "happy" when referring to herself. 
Hmm.

   "Uhm...I don't think the landlord will like us reinforcing things around
here.  And yeah - yeah, I need to get in shape anyway.  We can work
together on that."

   "Our construction efforts will be discreet.  I will not endanger your
relationship with the landlord."

   "Huh.  Right.  ...Okay, I'll follow your lead.  It's just...weird shit
to try to take seriously, you know?"

   "Weird shit?"

   "I mean, this situation is unusual.  Generally people don't meet robots
and have hitmen after their heads.  I want to take you seriously, but at
the same time, it seems a bit foolish to just jump in and say I believe all
of it."

   "They are not hitmen.  I told you, they are not men.  Also, it would be
more foolish not to believe me." She definitely seemed kind a pissed.  In
an emotionless way.

   "Obviously, if there are...assassins...it would be foolish, yeah,
but...look, can't you see this from my point of view?" I pleaded.  At this
point I felt a little like I was digging my way deeper into trouble, but I
don't like to give up what I think is a reasonable argument either.

   She tilted her head.  "No, I can not see this from your point of view.
From my point of view, you are being very foolish.  That is because you are
being foolish."

   Well, you can't argue with that...not and expect to win, anyway.  "Fine.
Sorry."

   "You do not need to apologize to me.  I am just a robot, not a person."

   I have a little pet peeve about having apologies thrown back in my face,
actually, so I snapped back, "I'll say sorry to anybody I want, for any
reason I want." Then I wondered if I were about to get a metal fist in the
face.

   Instead, she blinked - like in surprise, I couldn't help thinking - and
was quiet.  "Uh.  Right.  Anyway.  Let's do...what you said.  Those simple
steps?"

   Lisa nodded silently and stood up.  There was still some tension but it
didn't seem as bad as before, and I wasn't sure why.  I followed her around
the apartment for a little while, closing and locking windows, sliding a
bookshelf in front of the door, and laying little booby-trapish devices
around the place, like a bunch of noisy crap that would make it hard for
someone to sneak in without tripping and alerting us.

   "I saw Tom Cruise do this with a broken lightbulb once," I remarked as
we spread cornflakes under a windowsill.  "Won't we get roaches though?"

   "We will soon replace this with material that will not attract pests,"
she replied.  "Meanwhile, it is more important to be safe."

   I realized there was already a lot of "we" going on in the
conversations. Was it really a forgone conclusion that she was living here?

   "So, like, you're staying here?  With me?  Indefinitely?"

   "Will that be a problem for you?" she asked, looking at me from an odd
angle.

   "No, no...just...just checking.  I mean, usually a couple goes on a few
dates before they move in together, that's all...heh heh...eh."

   "We should go on dates.  It will be less suspicious to be seen together
if people believe I am your girlfriend."

   "Oh.  Yeah, I guess that makes sense."

   "If you do not wish to sleep with me until after our dates, I can stay
on the couch," she continued.

   "Uh..." Shit.  I knew I really, really should go with that plan.  There
was no way it would be a good idea to jump into bed with a weird,
probably-robot girl an hour after meeting her, especially when I still had
no idea what the fuck was going on, and was getting weird vibes about her
attitude and "mission parameters" regarding our relationship.

   There was no way it was a good idea...and no way I was going to hold
out, either.  Who was I kidding?

   "No, that's not...you don't have to do that.  I'd like you to sleep with
me."

   She smiled.

   ***

   And the good days began.  Mostly.  They seem so simple now...

   My apartment got cleaned up and "reinforced".  We replaced bits of
stuff, and added other stuff here and there, and made the traps more
permanent and less obvious (and less likely to go moldy).  I got tougher
too, more veggies and fruits (even when I really wanted a fucking Coke...),
more pushups and jogging, and daily self-defense lessons.  Lisa seemed
pleasantly surprised to learn that I was not completely useless - there'd
been a few years of Tae Kwon Do and Wing Chun in my past, and not all of my
beef was fat.  I already knew some of the wrist bending and hip throwing
stuff she showed me, and I picked up the new stuff pretty quickly.  I've
always kind of enjoyed martial arts - it's one of the things that attracted
me to study Chinese and eventually to my current job.

   And on top of the other exercise, more than a few pounds were lost
because we fucked like the proverbial rabbits.  Every night we had sex in
more or less any position or location around the house that I wanted - she
made it clear that it was up to me, though I tried not to just boss her
around - and every morning, my alarm clock was a blowjob.

   Lisa might have the strength of a machine, but her skin was soft and
smooth and warm.  The first night, I was somewhat surprised to learn how
responsive she was - she seemed to breathe and pant and arch her back and
gyrate just like she was really getting off, and she explained that it was
all part of her design, to blend in as a real woman and to make me happy.

   She also had a really interesting tendency to experience what seemed to
be a very intense orgasm every single time I did.  This was apparently
another "feature" - she was designed to experience some robot analogue of
pleasure simply by causing me pleasure, and the act of getting me off was
the ultimate charge for her.  It ensured that she always sought to please
me, and it also meant that we always finished at the same time.  Which is
cool.

   Lisa insisted that our "relationship" was a very low-level priority
compared to keeping me alive, but sometimes it seemed like the only thing
on her mind.  More than once we would interrupt some Aikido lesson or home
improvement session with groping and kissing that turned into more sex on
the couch or the bathroom floor or wherever.  She drove me to the edge of
my endurance.  After a few long, lonely years, it was like heaven.

   We did get out a bit and "date".  Some movies, some dancing, some long
walks.  She didn't actually need to eat, but we went to restaurants anyway
and did the couples thing.  Afterward she would go to the bathroom and dump
all the food she'd "eaten" out of a hatch in her stomach and into the
toilet.

   I also made it a point fairly quickly to take her shopping and put
together an outfit that didn't look ridiculous.  Lisa seemed to love
shopping with me and was giggly and flirty the whole time - it was hard to
remember that she could pick me up and toss me out the window at any time,
and it was hard to believe that her smiles were all programming.

   Some of the outfits we bought were fairly practical - stuff that
wouldn't get trashed in a fight, stuff that wouldn't attract attention in
public.  Some of it was silly - it turned out that any time I let her pick
stuff, it was invariably weird - and some of it was sexy, because of course
I couldn't resist the idea of taking her to a lingerie shop and using her
as my own little Barbie doll.  We got kicked out of one place for spending
too much time in the dressing booth "trying things out".

   Oh yeah - did I mention there was no need for condoms?  That was a nice
first, too.

   After sex we tended to snuggle.  She was heavier than she looked but not
enough to be uncomfortable with her head on my chest.  Lisa always "slept"
with a smile on her face, waiting for morning, thinking about who knows
what.  It was all supposed to reinforce my feelings of trust and loyalty
for her, and it was working great.  Waking up every morning with my dick in
her mouth didn't hurt either.

   About once a week she would plug herself into a wall with a little cord
that came out of a compartment on her wrist.  This part was creepy, because
she would just stare at the wall with a little glow in her eyes for an hour
or so, and suddenly the robot part of her was a little too obvious.  Still,
I'm an open-minded kind of guy, and I adapted quickly.  Humping a robot was
weird, but using my hand all the time wasn't something to be proud of
either, and this was way, way more fun.

   As for the assassins - I never saw any, and I never cleared up what they
were supposed to be (other robots?).  They never showed up at my home, but
more than once when we were outside, Lisa would ask me to wait somewhere,
take off sprinting, and come back half an hour later with rips in her
clothes and blood on her hands.  I kind of wanted to help her out, but she
just smiled when I asked and told me it wasn't necessary.  I guess a few
martial arts lessons don't really qualify me to keep up with a robot, but I
do have some pride.

   Now that I think about it, I really should have been less trusting...for
all I knew, she was a bad robot girl, killing the future human leaders of
the anti-robot revolution, or something.  I was pretty biased in her favor
though, and reluctant to question her.  It's hard to remain suspicious of
someone when your dick is inside her on a regular basis.
   Anyway, those were the good days...and then things got less simple.