The Last Fembot

by KT McColl

  We were in what appeared to be Aisha's sitting room. She'd done well to have ranked a house with a room such as this, devoted to nothing more than sitting. It was larger than my entire hut in Lowville. I was standing as I hadn't been asked to sit. I wouldn't have wanted to sit anyway for fear of dirtying the white upholstery of the furniture. Aisha sat however, her legs together at an angle as though she were posing for a photograph. Demure... the word flitted through my mind. Her hands were clasped lightly on her lap. She said nothing, probably in an attempt to make me uncomfortable. As I waited, I studied the room some more. It was cozy, with paintings on the walls and a thick carpet. The subject matter of the paintings, I noticed with surprise, was not unlike what had landed Rabbit in The Sisters.

  At length Aisha nodded to a Lozen who stood by the door.

  "This is Goyen. She is here to ensure that the freemen under my roof are properly cared for. She will treat you fairly if you behave."

  The Lozen approached. All I could see was the granite of her eyes.

  She showed me a strap of leather that featured a buckle and a ring.

  "The collar identifies you as a trainee," said Goyen. "You will wear it until you have earned Sister Aisha's trust."

  She fastened it around my neck, leaving just enough room for me to swallow without discomfort. I heard the snick of a lock and I turned in time to see the key disappear in a pocket of the Lozen's robe.

  "You may leave us," said Aisha to Goyen.

  "Are you sure?" she asked, eying me suspiciously.

  "Yes."

  "I'll be just outside."

  When the Lozen had left, Aisha said, "Don't think for a moment that I picked you as a fucktoy."

  The expression shocked me, but I kept my expression neutral. There were rumors about freemen, about what purpose they served. This was one of them. "I wouldn't have presumed..."

  "Why?"

  She looked at me as though she actually expected an answer.

  "It would have been unseemly to presume anything."

  "Unseemly," she said. "That's good. I wouldn't have expected such diction from you. Or a belated concern for unseemliness."

  "Why are you doing this?"

  "You need to ask? You speak of unseemliness; what is more unseemly than the Ultimate Sin? "

  There it was.

  "I probably don't need to tell you this, but the underthings found in that house belong to a fembot. A Jessie."

  "They do?" I tried to keep my voice bland; I wasn't sure that I succeeded.

  "They do." Aisha watched me closely, intent on the slip that would end me.

  "They could have been left behind."

  "It's a possibility, of course." Aisha walked around me. "If that were the only thing, I might have given you the benefit of the doubt, but there's also another matter."

  "Another matter, Sister?"

  "A security breach. You see, someone attempted to hack the network using what I'm told is a protocol that hasn't been used in decades."

  "I don't understand."

  "I didn't either. Imagine my surprise when my experts told me that the method of the breach pointed to an agent who shouldn't exist."

  "This is beyond me." The collar felt tight now.

  "Evidently not beyond your new friend though."

  Aisha sat down again. "Was it beautiful, enjoying your toy in that lovely suburban oasis you created for yourself? I had a look at it, you know. Got up before the sun because I wanted to see your den of iniquity for myself. It was clean, almost homey. I couldn't imagine that you had done that, given the squalor of your own home. It had to have been someone else." She paused in front of me, head cocked to the side. "Did you fantasize about being the lord of the manor? Did you dream of days gone by?"

  I didn't answer. I was reeling.

  "Well, did you?" she shouted.

  "I don't know what you're talking about," I said. They hadn't found her, I reminded myself. They couldn't prove anything.

  "We'll find it, you know."

  Her, I wanted to say. She wasn't an it.

  Aisha sat down again. "But there's another reason you've been invited to join the ranks of the freemen."

  I waited while she dragged out the moment.

  "You said unseemly before. It's a good word. It's apt." She leaned back on the sofa. "I too have experienced my share of unseemliness of late."

  She studied my face as she appeared to deliberate. Finally, she spoke again. "I've been a Sister for a long time, Jude. From as early as I can remember, it was obvious that I was being groomed for greater things. Until recently, I thought that my lineage would have guaranteed certain advantages in pursuing my aspirations. Until recently..."

  Aisha grew quiet again. "The Mother is growing old. Not that she's any less capable or determined, it's just that sometimes..." She searched for the right words. "Sometimes she revisits the past in her mind and becomes less guarded, becomes... nostalgic. Sometimes she expresses regrets. She's seen so much, Mother, and has been the catalyst for so much good. So, imagine my surprise when she let slip a sad fact of my lineage."

  My thoughts swirled. I had no idea where this was going.

  "Can you imagine how unseemly it was for me to discover that I am the spawn of sinners?"

  "I don't..."

  "Yes," she continued, allowing herself a bitter smile. "Spawn. You and Abigail and the lustcrime. A sad and depraved trinity that begat me. If it were known..." She shook her head, overcome for a moment by an emotion I didn't recognize. She took a deep breath. "If it were known, I'd be finished. More than that, I would be derided and pitied.

  "So no, Father, you are not here as my consort and there will be nothing between us. As handsome as you are, some lines should never be crossed."

  My head felt like it was going to explode. Father? "You're..."

  She nodded and gave me a look of amused innocence. I tried to see her without the filter of animosity and suspicion and I saw it. Abigail's eyes. My chin maybe. Where she got her callousness, I had no idea.

  "Ah, you recognize some family resemblance?"

  I nodded numbly.

  "Trust me. There is no mistake. I only just found out about it and believe me, it disgusts me. And even if I did have an Electra complex, even if I did want to own you in this way, my grandmother would never allow it."

  My head was spinning. Grandmother. I tried to connect the dots but no picture emerged. "Abigail's mother is dead."

  Aisha laughed. "Indeed she is."

  And then it dawned on me. "Oh no."

  I'd been wrong. It hadn't been about me. It had been about both of us, Abigail and me. It had been about Aisha too. Our daughter. My mother... a Mother? No, that wasn't it. Not just a Mother...

  "Oh yes. If that isn't bad enough, I have some suspicion that you've been up to things that no enlightened man should be involved with. I have no proof, unfortunately, but the circumstantial evidence points to it. If any of this became known, even a whiff of it, my future with the Sorority would be finished. There are some things that you have control over and others that you don't. One's parents belong to the latter. I can't risk anyone tarring me with the brush that has blackened your souls. And that's the one thing I do have control over.

  "I thought about having you disappear, but Mother Superior wouldn't hear of it. I'm afraid that age has taken the edge off her decisiveness. It would have made things a lot easier for me and for you too. But this isn't about making things easy for you. You had things easy and look where it got you. So I can't make you disappear, and I can't have you living the life you've enjoyed to date. And so you get to live for now. And who knows? It might be fun.

  "And should you decide to make things difficult for me, please remember that I have Abigail. Of course, she has received a similar warning. It's remarkable that the threat still has teeth given what you've done to each other."

  My knees felt weak and my thoughts... so many thoughts... swirled around so quickly that I could barely hold any of them lon
g enough.

  Aisha rang a little bell. Goyen entered, followed by a pair of handmaidens. One held a satin pillow upon which lay something silver. Aisha gestured to them and they approached almost shyly.

  "You look confused," said Aisha with a look of mock concern. "You mean you didn't know? No inkling? Did you never wonder what happened to your mother?"

  The handmaidens knelt before me but I was too distracted to give them much thought.

  "No. I..."

  One of the handmaidens, a blonde that might have turned my head at any other time, unfastened my trousers and pulled them down my legs. The other lowered my underwear. "What the fuck!" I yelled, taking a step back.

  "You will be still, Jude, and you will watch your tongue." A snap of her fingers brought Goyen into the room. I heard the hum of a prod. "I'm doing this for your good. Whether you're standing or paralyzed on the ground, it's all the same to me."

  One of the handmaidens encircled my cock and scrotum with a metal ring. I winced as she pinched some skin in the hinge.

  "Sorry," whispered the blonde.

  "Shh," whispered the other.

  The other inserted my cock into a cage.

  Goyen approached with a small lock and slipped it into the contraption, locking the ring to the cage. She handed Aisha the key.

  "Just so you don't get yourself into any more trouble," said Aisha

  She took a step back and beamed at me. "Please cover yourself now, Father. The sight of you makes me feel unwell."

  I did, feeling numb.

  "Congratulations, Jude. You're a freeman now."

  After my meeting with Aisha, Goyen escorted me to the basement. Several doors faced a narrow, central corridor. Some were open, revealing small rooms that reeked of stale masculinity. She opened one at the end of the hall and pushed me inside, closing and locking the door behind me. The room in which I found myself featured a narrow bed and a dresser. There was no toilet, but there was a bucket in the corner.

  A picture of Mother Superior adorned one of the walls. My mother evidently. I peered at it, trying to see some family resemblance. I couldn't. I saw disapproval though, but I assumed it wasn't directed at me in particular but at the world in general. Nor did the woman who scowled at me bear any resemblance to the memory I had of my mother, or mom as she was known to me then. Although I didn't remember her as ever being carefree, she was nothing like the bitter, severe harpy on the wall.

  I'd been in the room for all of five minutes and already I'd had enough of the Mother. I didn't relish living here under her unwavering, accusing gaze and was afraid that I'd start arguing with her before long. I tried to remove the picture but found that it had been screwed to the wall. Seems I was screwed too.

  From a small window in my cell, I was just able to see the street. The view was restricted by shrubs on either side of the window. Not having anything else to do, I watched the comings and goings of other high-ranking Sisters, often accompanied by Lozen, sometimes by a freeman or two, sometimes with an entourage consisting of both. I tried opening the window, managing only a couple of inches before it seized.

  There was a little breeze and I smelled earth and foliage. It gave me some comfort. That's when it hit me. Less than twenty-four hours ago, I'd been in the arms of Jessie, enjoying pleasures and a connection I hadn't thought possible. Now she was gone and I was imprisoned in more ways than I cared to think about. I was numb.

  At around noon, I heard footfalls outside my door. A slat at the bottom of the door opened and a tray was shoved through. Room service.

  I didn't know how long I'd be confined like this. If solitude was designed to impress on me the helplessness of my situation, it was working. The lack of diversion served to focus my attention on my collar and the cage that confined my manhood.

  It was a perfect metaphor.

  Occasionally, my thoughts would drift to Jessie and that magical day we'd shared in the house. Inevitably, the memory would cause a stirring and my arousal would fill the cage. This was the diabolical nature of the device. Arousal and pain became a sadistic feedback loop. Release was impossible and my mind would scramble to think of anything else... anything to distract me and lessen the pressure. I was afraid that the pattern of the metal would forever be embossed on my flesh.

  I wondered whether such a thing existed before the Sorority or whether it was their cruel invention. There was no way to escape the cage short of pulling my nuts off. If there was a way of gelding a man without surgery, this was it. Apart from the physical discomfort, it worked on me psychologically as well, focusing my attention on the area while simultaneously reinforcing the knowledge that I'd ceded control of it. That Aisha, my daughter, held the key was insult heaped on injury.

  By the end of the day, I was going out of my head with the inactivity and the disquiet brought on by idle thoughts. I paced, did pushups and sit-ups, and though I exercised myself to exhaustion, the walls and memories pressed in on me and prevented the sleep I so desperately craved. As hard as my life had been in Lowville, I missed the fields and the distant horizons and some small measure of hope.

  On the second day, I asked a mute Lozen for something to read, anything to make the time pass more quickly. With my next meal, I received a booklet entitled The Ultimate Sin, penned by Mother Superior. I tossed it into the bucket.

  Aisha had a cruel sense of humor.

  My thoughts turned to Abigail and I wondered how she was being treated. Did she know, as I did, her part in creating the monster who'd imprisoned us? Did she hate me now?

  By the end of the third day, I found myself reconciled to the routine. Sleep, eat, exercise. Wrestle with questions that I couldn't hope to answer. I'd even become used to the collar around my neck and the heavy cage between my legs. That was the real humiliation -- that you could get used to things like that. That was all it took... a few days and then mute acceptance.

  At night, I would think of Jessie. The memories were already tinged in sepia, the object of nostalgia. It seemed like a lifetime ago. I wondered how she fared. I couldn't believe that she'd been captured. If that had been the case, I was certain that Aisha would have come by to crow about it. So for now, Jessie was mine alone, if only in my head. As I lay on my bed, I would stare at the ceiling and imagine a skylight there, and pretend that Jessie was beside me.

  Chapter 13

  Every morning, a silent Lozen delivered breakfast. Precisely half an hour later, the tray and dishes were removed. I was then left to my own devices until noon, where the meal ritual was repeated. And then dinner. And so on for three days.

  This morning, however, a different Lozen came in. The door opened and she entered, carrying a tray with breakfast.

  She set it on a table and turned to me. Green eyes blinked. I froze. Without a word, she unfastened her head covering. I'd never before seen a Lozen with an uncovered face and my heart stilled as she unveiled herself.

  She was beautiful. Arched eyebrows over wide-spaced green eyes, a petite nose, and full red lips. She had a square jaw with a slight dimple at her chin and finely sculpted cheekbones.

  But for the color of her eyes and hair, she and Jessie might have been twins.

  She placed a finger to her lips, stilling the questions that threatened to spill out of me. Some noise in the hall caused her to turn her head. With a meaningful look, the Lozen covered herself again and hurried out of the room without a word.

  After breakfast, a different Lozen entered. She glanced at my untouched breakfast. "Sister Aisha has granted you permission to use the exercise compound. I will collect you in thirty minutes and take you there."

  I didn't respond.

  "Did you hear me?"

  "And if I don't want to?"

  "You do."

  She was right; I did want to. Sitting in this room for days on end was driving me crazy. I was used to activity. And I wanted to escape my thoughts for a while.

  "I'll be ready."

  I followed the Lozen outside and squinted in the sun
light. The warmth felt good on my face, and I took a deep breath. I still wore my collar and the cage, but this small taste of freedom lifted my spirits. I had to remind myself not to be grateful for it.

  She led me to a squat brick building that was situated at the end of a cul-de-sac. We walked past a guard at a desk, through a shower room and into a fenced yard that contained all manner of exercise equipment.

  As we entered, all conversation ceased. There were perhaps two dozen freemen in the yard. Two or three were collared, but they looked to be in their teens. The rest were not. I guess that made me an anomaly, an older man with a collar. That and the fact that I was a stranger earned me a level of scrutiny that I did my best to return.

  Only the younger freemen had been exercising, and they gradually returned to their equipment; the rest had been chatting in small groups, sitting on benches around the perimeter of the yard.

  "You have an hour," said the Lozen curtly before she left.

  I walked around, getting my bearings, casting glances at the men. The building, I now saw, was shaped like an L with a tall fence, crowned with barbed wire, enclosing its wings. I looked up and saw several Lozen on the roof keeping watch.

  I soon discerned two groups. There were the older freemen who, to a man, had allowed themselves to go to seed. They appeared more interested in socializing than exercising. I supposed they'd long ago given up hope of being bedded and had let themselves go. Like yesterday's trophies, they gathered dust now.

  Then there were the young men who actively took to the machines, lifting heavy weights designed to add muscle rather than strength. I supposed they were guided by a desire to look more attractive and manly for the mistresses they served. It was show-bulk, nothing more. They looked good, but they wouldn't last a day in the fields.

  I jogged around a track that ran the circumference of the courtyard. After being cooped up in a small room for so long, it was a pleasure to be moving and to get my heart beating. The weight at my groin was uncomfortable as it flopped around, but I ignored it. The men, young and old alike, followed my progress.