June 2003 INSPIRED BY DR. JACKLE’S WONDERFUL PICTURE NUMBER 1257 ON THE YAHOO MEDEROTICARTS BOARD. I HOPE DOCTOR JACKLE DOESN’T MIND THAT I USED HER PICTURES FOR INSPIRATION; SHE IS CERTAINLY WELCOME TO POST THE STORIES ON HER BOARD, IF SHE WISHES. SHE IS ALSO WELCOME TO USE ANY OF THE JOE DOE STORIES FOR INSPIRATION IF SHE WANTS TO RETALIATE! ROBOSEARCH by Joe Doe FBI AGENT SUSAN PRICE INVESTIGATES A BUG IN THE STRIP SEARCH ROUTINE THAT CAUSES SEVERAL ROBOCOPS TO GO BESERK. "How about a little love, babe?" the greasy punk asked. "I’d love to find out if you’re a natural blonde." Susan Price said nothing, but simply flashed her badge. The hateful smile on the leering man’s face immediately disappeared, and he and his two creepy friends immediately walked away from Susan’s government-issue Ford. Susan smiled. Being an FBI agent did have its advantages. She looked across the street at the five "automated officers" who were patrolling the plaza area. Susan hated the idea of "Robo-Cops," and the stone cold faces of the five automatons across the street did little to relieve her concerns. She had heard the rumors that a prankster programmer had set the "strip search routine" to attack innocent women, but, until the reports started coming across her desk at the bureau, she didn’t believe it. The local police denied the charges, claiming that the women were just troublemakers hoping to cash in with a huge lawsuit. Susan's superiors didn’t want trouble with the local police, and so they had denied her request to launch an FBI investigation. But, when Susan noticed that the attacks always seemed to take place on Wednesdays around lunchtime, she decided to defy her superiors. After all, there was nothing that limited where an agent might spend her lunch hour. The four robotic officers seemed harmless enough. One was directing traffic at the corner, while another was checking parking meters and issuing tickets. The other two were standing on opposite sides of the square, acting as sentinels. To Susan, it looked like just another day of routine police work. GONG! GONG! GONG! The noon chimes startled Susan momentarily. When she regained her composure, she noticed that the four automated officers had left their posts and were now converging on a female motorist who was just getting out of her car. The pretty young redhead was driving an expensive yellow car, and Susan guessed that she was an executive in the tall office building that fronted the plaza. "Stop, lawbreaker," one of the officers said, as the woman was getting out of the car. "You did not put your money in the meter." "I was about to, officer," the annoyed woman replied. "You didn’t give me a chance!" The woman reached for her purse, but one of the automated cops immediately seized her bag and pushed her against the car. The officer locked her arms behind her back in a death grip and kicked her legs apart. A few seconds later, a second officer firmly pressed the woman’s face and neck against the car with one hand while using its second hand to immobilize the young woman’s hands. The woman gasped as she felt the third mechanical cop reach for the hem of her green dress and slowly begin to roll up the garment. "Oh, no, please!" the woman pleaded. "I told you I was going to put money in the meter! You can’t raise my skirt in public! Everyone’s WATCHING!" Susan noticed that everyone was indeed watching. The helpless woman in the rapidly contracting green dress was soon surrounded by a herd of smiling spectators, all of whom seemed as oblivious to her pleas for help as the mechanical cops were. Susan considered intervening, but decided against it. She knew that shutting the program down while the woman was in custody might cause the robots to lock into position, which could cause the woman to be injured. As bad as this was, Susan knew that she would just have to sit there and watch. She wasn’t surprised that the men who stopped simply stared and gawked; men were pigs, plain and simple. What did surprise her was the large number of women who were watching with smug, satisfied smiles. The men stared at the pretty redhead with undisguised lust; the women stared with undisguised amusement, as if the poor woman had committed some horrible faux paux for which she was now paying the price. Susan was parked opposite the woman and across the street, so she could still see everything that was going on. The woman was wiggling on the roof of her car, and she started to squirm more when the officer behind her finally stopped rolling up her dress and inserted his fingers into the waistband of her white cotton underpants. "No, not my panties!" the woman cried. "I beg you! I’m not hiding anything, really! I’m innocent! I haven’t done anything!" "If you haven’t done anything, how come they’re taking down your panties, lady?" one bystander put in. "You must have done SOMETHING!" another woman noted. "I can see you’re a natural redhead, so that’s not it!" she said, triggering a burst of laughter from the crowd. The executive’s face blushed crimson as the cop slowly rolled her white panties down to her knees. Susan felt a small chill as she saw the police officer behind the woman slip on a plastic glove.... Through the reflection in the glass of the car window, the helplessly prone woman saw the glove. She winced and tried desperately to close her legs in self-defense. But the cops expertly shifted her weight and then kicked her legs apart so that she was split even wider than before. "For goodness sakes, lady, close your legs," one man shouted. "I can practically see what you had for breakfast!" "I bet that hand protector he’s wearing will fit you like a glove," another bystander said. "You know what they say: 'If it doesn’t fit, you must acquit.'" Susan felt the muscles in her neck tighten as the plastic cop who was kneeling behind the woman reached into his pocket and removed a small tube of lubricating jelly. "Please, you can’t do this to me," the woman shouted. "I’m the president of this company! Call my lawyer! Someone help me, please!" Out of the corner of her eye, the woman noticed the 20-year-old man who worked in her company's mailroom. "Freddy!" she cried out, desperately. "Go get some help! Go inside and call the police...and get building security." Freddy just smiled back at her. "You can fire me if you want, Ma’am," he said happily. "But I have a good viewing location here, and I’m not giving it up!" The woman twisted helplessly against the car and she watched the reflection of the police officer behind her slowly lubricating his middle fingers. When they were sufficiently greasy to fit through a keyhole, he began to slowly move his hands up towards her exposed crotch. Susan looked on unhappily as the robot slowly ran its fingers up and down the lips of the humiliated woman’s exposed sex. Susan had seen the strip search process in action, and she knew that this program had been modified to draw out the psychological aspects of the search and make the procedure as degrading as possible. The person who wrote this virus had a very twisted sense of humor. At last the preliminaries were over, and the probing officer began to slowly sink his mechanical fingers into the woman’s exposed sex, while the amused crowd looked on. The woman let out a "Ohhhh!" that grew more shrill as the fingers sank deeper and deeper, and that, in turn, led to further taunts from the crowd: "Hey, I think she likes it!" one man said. "Listen to the piggy squeal," a woman said, with disgust. "Any woman who drops her drawers in public like that gets what she deserves!" "Talk about taking the law into your own hands!" "I’m signing up for the police academy today!" To Susan’s horror, the mechanical tormenter took its time and methodically probed the woman’s insides with a computer-like thoroughness. To Susan, the assault seemed to combine the worst of all possible worlds: a relentless mechanical assault by a machine, performed in front of dozens of leering, jeering witnesses. When at last the mechanical cop pulled his fingers out of the redhead’s pussy, Susan thought the search was finished. But then the other cops slowly spread the woman’s bottom cheeks apart. Susan winced in compassion as she watched the mechanical officer remorselessly re-lube his fingers in preparation for the second assault. The woman actually grunted when the fingers were inserted into her rectum, and her response immediately caused the cheerful crowd to begin mimicking the grunting sound she had made when the fingers were driven home. The second search was as relentless as the search, and Susan squirmed in her seat as she watched the robots probe their victim for a full 3 minutes. "She’s clean!" the leader robot shouted, punctuating his verdict with a painful and humiliating slap on his victim’s bare buttocks. As soon as the woman’s hands were released they instantly flew back to rub the large red handprint that had been left by the mechanical officer. The woman seemed surprised when the robot officers helped her pull up her panties and smooth down her dress. But she was positively thunderstruck when each of them patiently waited in line to profusely thank the still-blushing woman for her cooperation. The terrified woman was frightened that one false move could trigger the cops back into action, and so she played along, awkwardly accepting their bizarre thanks. Susan couldn’t help smiling as the woman nervously put her money in the meter and walked briskly towards the building. If nothing else, Susan was sure that the beautiful redhead would never be a traffic scofflaw. But Susan had seen enough. If the stories were true, then the robots would turn their attention to another helpless victim as soon as they had released this one. Susan was determined that watching one woman stripped was more than enough. She drew her badge and quickly made her way across the street. Taking control of the situation, she barked, "Okay, lead heads, the fun is over. FBI Agent Susan Price, badge number 18383, orders you to 'End Program' NOW!" The robot cops stared at her for several seconds as if processing the information. Then the lead officer spoke. "Stop, lawbreaker," the mechanical officer said. "Impersonating an FBI agent and jaywalking are serious offenses." "I’m not impersonating an agent, bolt brains, I AM an agent. Shut down...NOW!" She knew something was wrong. The mechanical cops were supposed to recognize her voiceprint and retina images and respond immediately to her commands. But, instead, the thing simply stared back at her and smiled. Susan reached for her gun, determined to stop today’s festivities the old fashioned way. The local police department didn’t like it when you shot up their toys, but they could bill her! She was startled when an oppressive hand easily ripped her purse off her shoulder and pushed her towards the yellow automobile. Before she could respond, her face was pressed against the glass, and her arms were locked behind her back. She didn’t have to be told what would happen next. The hood of the car was still warm from the redhead in the green dress. "Someone help me, please!" Susan pleaded. "I’m an FBI agent! You can’t let them search me...like this! Not out in public!" "You didn’t lift a finger when they searched the other woman," one woman said, angrily. "One cop doing it to another is justice, if you ask me." Susan looked over and saw the grinning punks who had hassled her earlier looking down at her. "Well, well, sweet cheeks," the chief troublemaker said. "It looks like I get to find out if you’re a natural blonde after all!" Edited by C. Lakewood