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Market Commodity	By : Scienceteacher Category: Transformers > G1 > Round Robins Views: 11586 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Do not own the Transformers, am not making anything from this story.

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(Prototypes chapter 2)

***Learning*** by StSE – G1 universe

“Like this, let your wrist stay loose, then your strokes will be even,” Sharon told him as she put her hand over his.

TC narrowed his optics as he considered her words. He did not understand why they were painting this interior wall, but for some reason his master thought it needed it. But if he did it well enough, perhaps she’d consider showing him ‘the more’ she had promised? Trying again, he grimaced as his strokes did not look like hers. For some reason this seemingly simple task was difficult for him.

Sharon watched the clone with critical eyes. She was curious to see if he had other uses other than sexual gratification. If they could be taught to do other tasks, then that would widen the market even that much more. For then, people who had actually purchased them to use for sex – could claim that the purchased them to be butlers, or landscapers, or any other of the multiple household jobs that were common. This would make them more acceptable. “It takes practice,” she said in an encouraging tone to TC.

He turned to look at her face. Somehow, being encouraged felt strange. Like he wasn’t supposed to be encouraged to do something.. Part of him cringed when he didn’t do a task right the first time, as if he expected to get beaten because of his failure. He didn’t understand why he should expect the harsh treatment, didn’t understand it at all. And that was bothering him even more than getting used to the encouragement.

The white sheet she had covered him with, ripped as he turned to look at her. He cringed inside, waiting for a tirade. But it never came, instead, she just clucked her tongue at him and tapped him lightly on his olfactory sensor.

“Be careful, if we don’t keep that sheet over you, the paint will ruin your finish,” she told him with a soft smile. Fishing the duct tape out of her tool belt, she taped up the rip. He looked quite comical with paper taped protectively over his helm, the sheet draped over him like some bad ghost costume and the rubber gloves protecting his hands – but she didn’t want him ruined by the paint!

TC looked at her in confusion. Why hadn’t she ranted and raved? Somehow he expected his leader, his master – to react like that. But she hadn’t. He scanned through his deepest programming, his deepest ingrained memories from the mech he had been cloned from. That’s where these conflicting emotions came from!!! In shock, he dropped the brush.

“What’s wrong?” Sharon asked him.

He began to shake as waves of memory echoes came over him. “I… I’m not sure,” he stammered as he backed up. He buried his face in his hands, trembling. He didn’t want to feel fear of his master, but every fiber of his being told him that he should.

“Stop moving, right now!” Sharon ordered, as she came over to him.

Her sharp order broke through his mounting confusion. He locked himself into position, not moving a single bearing as she walked up to him.

“Get your hands off your face TC,” she ordered. Trembling, the clone did as she ordered. His face and optics now smeared with beige paint as he stared at her with a confused expression. She patted his sheet covered wing. “Don’t move, let me clean you up,” she said in a soft tone. Going over to the center of the room, she picked up the solvent and some rags. “Sit down on that stool and do not touch yourself,” she ordered.

Coming over, she began to clean the paint off his face and his optics. “What happened TC?” she asked softly.

He chewed on his lower lip, not sure how to explain it. “Memory echoes,” he replied. Not really knowing how to explain it in human terms.

Not stopping her work on his face, she smiled at him. “Tim sent you to me because I’ve got a PhD in computer programming and robotic engineering, you can elaborate,” she said.

So his master was an expert in robotic programming?!? She’d fix him then. TC smiled in relief as he looked up at her. “My… My base programming from the mech I was cloned from keeps telling me to expect anger and pain from my master when I do not perform the required tasks perfectly. It confuses me when this does not occur,” he told her.

Sharon paused briefly in her cleanup and studied his expression. “So you even have his memories?” she asked.

“Some. But I can’t fully access them. It’s… It’s frustrating,” he replied. “Can you fix me?” he asked with a pleading tone to his voice.

She resumed cleaning his face plate. “After I get you cleaned up, I’m going to hook you up to my laptop. We’ll find the problem,” she assured him.

-----

“Fascinating,” she mumbled as she read the diagnostics on her laptop.

TC shifted a bit. He sat next to her on the leather couch, his primary access panel open, her laptop connected to his battle processor by a USB cable. Strange sensations rolled over his networks as her computer scanned him. Almost like an invasion of his very core. His firewalls kept trying to engage, but the clone fought them down. This was his master, she was repairing him.

She patted his leg armor, causing him to look up and meet her eyes. “I’ve got to get that clone back from Daniel tomorrow, we’ve got a serious problem,” she stated.

“What is wrong?” he asked her. He didn’t want to be defective. He didn’t want to be off-lined because he was broken.

She curled her fingers around his as she set the laptop down on the coffee table. “Tell me TC, what do you really want?” she asked him.

He gnawed on his lower lip, not sure of how to answer her. The question wasn’t specific enough. He wanted a lot of things. But he needed to know what she wanted him to want. That’s what his programming said. “I want what you want me to want,” he replied.

Sharon laughed sadly. “I feel like I’m talking to the tin man,” she muttered. Then she squeezed his hand. “What the diagnostics are telling me, is that you have a constantly updating personality profile. And while you do have residual memory files from the original mech – those are deletable if done carefully,” she explained.

Elation filled him. “So we can delete them and I can develop autonomously?” he asked.

She smiled and nodded. “But there is a problem TC,” she said, her face getting a very serious expression.

“What?” he asked.

“There’s a Trojan horse program embedded within your primary core. It appears to be set up to activate by a certain signal. Then it will blank out all of your developed programming and will take you over,” she said. Her voice serious, her eyes locked with his.

That program would take away his very identity! Turn him into a true slave. Without a will or even a thought! TC shuddered at the horrible thought of it. A fate worse than off lining! “Why is it there?” he asked her.

Sharon shrugged, “I don’t know. I’ve got to work on an anti-virus program to stop it. If not, well, we can’t take the risk of what it might mean.”

So if she couldn’t fix it, he’d be off lined. That was that. Rage filled the clone. Rage that his very existence might be in jeopardy – and he’d only functioned for a single day! He wanted to function. He wanted to learn. Wanted to be a separate entity from that which he was created! “Please Sharon, please fix me,” he said as he clenched and unclenched his other hand. He didn’t want to die.

Leaning forward, Sharon unhooked the USB line and set it on her laptop. Taking his chin in her hand, she forced him to look at her. “Let’s get one thing straight between us TC,” she said in a low voice, “I’m more interested in watching you develop, watching you learn, watching you become a truly living computer – than being your master.”

TC scanned her eyes, not sure what she meant by this. She was his master. His very core programming forced him to do as she said. “But you are my master,” he replied.

She chuckled softly as she stroked his gray cheek. “I’m your friend,” she said softly.

“Friend?” TC asked. He scanned his files for the word, but it was nowhere to be found. As if his creators did not deem the word as necessary.

“That means I’ll stand by you through this. Help you in any way I can. Protect you as best I can,” she explained in a soft voice. Her eyes seemed to be searching his, looking for understanding.. Comprehension…

He searched his memory banks for a term that fit that description. But nothing fit. So he logged the word ‘friend’ within it. Her explanation sounded good. Like something he wanted. “I want to be your – friend,” he replied.

“Well tomorrow I shall start working on it,” she promised with a smile.

He nodded, relief flooding through his meta. He was so lucky to have a ‘friend’.

She studied him intensely, her eyes roaming over his frame. No, she wasn’t one of those nutcases who dreamed of being with one of those aliens. But this innocent clone seemed to genuinely like her. And she’d been so, so lonely since her latest husband had left her for a fuckin’ young whore. She was tired of trying to find a man she could trust. Tired of having every man she loved, just use her and throw her on the wayside when they found something younger and hotter. Yes, perhaps this clone could fill that emptiness within her? True, he was just a machine – but Sharon felt comfortable with machines. She dedicated her whole life to them hadn’t she?

“Remember when I told you there was more?” she purred as she moved so that she was straddling him.

He looked up at her, his optics full of thought as he went through his memory files to find what she was referring to. This lasted a brief moment before an eager smile lit up his face. “This morning - After you and Daniel made me overload,” he stated as he cocked his head and studied the female. Her actions were being translated by his programs to indicate human desire.

She nodded with a smile. “Let me teach you how to use that metal tongue of yours,” she purred. Taking his lips gently, she was surprised by how soft and pliable they were. Flicking her tongue over them, she asked for entrance even as she pressed her body firmly against him. Hesitantly, he opened his mouth, and as she explored the slightly metallic-tasting warmth, she was amazed at how different he felt against her. His smooth cockpit canopy pressing between her breasts and along her belly… His intakes pressing against her shoulders… A machine underneath her.. But a machine that was beautifully alive!

He met her tongue with his glossa. Dancing along it as he explored her organic mouth.. Her flavor was so different from his. Her strange teeth made of calcium instead of metal like his dental plates. She seemed softer than him. Her skin indenting slightly as he ran his fingers along her legs. But her pliable flesh just popped back into the shape it had been, not even the least bit dented or damaged. It fascinated him for some reason. He moved his hands up her, fumbling with the fabric of her clothes. It seemed unnatural to cover oneself like this. As unnatural as when he’d dealt with the awkward sensation of the sheet over his armor. He had the urge to remove it - To feel the strangely pliable flesh beneath it under his hands.

Sharon came back to reality as she heard the ripping of fabric. Pulling away from him in shock, she saw that he’d ripped the seam of her pants with his strong fingers. “What are you doing?” she asked in shock.

He cringed at the tone in her face. That unsettling sensation of expecting her to hit him for making an error came back to him. A flash of a memory echo of a gray mech scowling down at him, pointing a big cannon at him and threatening death. But then the memory echo left, and he looked up into the shocked, but not angry, face of his mas- friend. Yes, friend. “It doesn’t feel right. That cloth,” he told her.

At first she looked confused as she pondered his words. But then she realized why he had said that. He didn’t wear clothes – so of course it wouldn’t seem right to him. So she began to laugh.

He relaxed as she started to laugh. But why was she laughing. Was she laughing at him?! Were his efforts so poor that she was mocking him?! Pushing her off of him, he jumped up from the couch and turned away from her. “You don’t have to laugh at me!” he snarled, his voice full of hurt at the perceived insult. He was useless! He wasn’t a full Transformer like the one he’d been cloned from – and he wasn’t even good enough to live as a human either..

Her soft hand touched his wing, trailing down it with the tingling of sensory stimulation following her every finger. He felt her body press against his back then. Her hips tight against his aft, grinding in an almost sensuous motion… Her other hand slipped around him, touching his cockpit seams. Impulses flowed through him. Impulses that his programming forced him to react to! Helplessly, he shuddered against her. “I wasn’t laughing at you TC. I was laughing at myself,” she purred in his audio.

He turned around then, staring at her with shocked optics. It made no sense to laugh at ones self. Was completely illogical! “Why?” he asked, shivering as her fingers slipped into an intake.. Caressing… Exploring his inner curves..

“Because I didn’t realize that since you don’t need clothes – you don’t understand them!” she snickered with a warm smile.

“Understand them?” he asked confusion bright in his red optics. Did one converse with clothing? What exactly did one do with clothing?

She kissed his lips again. The strange soft warm of her flesh against him caused tendrils of want to flow through him. He wanted to understand. Wanted to be human like her! She pulled slightly away from him, her brown eyes full of warmth which radiated down to her red lips. “We wear clothes to keep us warm, to protect our skin like your outer armor,” she explained.

He studied her, looking down at her ripped clothes. Knowing he’d done that. Done that without realizing it was her armor. A flash went through his meta. A flash of a gray mech striking him over-and-over, yelling at him for being pathetic… As it passed, he looked down in shame. That gray mech in his memories was right – he was pathetic.

But his chin was forced up. His optics meeting hers again.. “Let me show you how to properly undress a lady,” she purred. Slowly, she began unbuttoning her blouse.

He stood there staring at her fingers, memorizing her slight movements. But then she grabbed his hand and brought it to her belly. Whispering for him to try… He fumbled with them. Half of them ended up popping off in his frustration… But she never yelled.. Never acted like that mean gray mech in his memory. When he got flustered with the zipper of her pants, she just closed her fingers over his and showed him how it moved. It took a long while, but he eventually got her cloth armor off of her.

This was the first time he’d actually seen a human totally naked. Sure his data files were filled with carnal knowledge of what to do. But to actually see her unclothed flesh was altogether different. Hesitantly, he reached out and stroked her breast. The flesh felt so much softer, so much more pliable, than her thigh had been. She closed her fingers around his, whispered directions to him of how to touch there.

They moved towards the couch, the clone laying her down on it. Still intent on exploring the newness of her flesh.. So different from him.. He stroked her breasts as she had shown him how. The sounds of her moans filling him with a sense of accomplishment. No matter what that gray mech in his memory said, his master, his friend – didn’t think he was pathetic!

Kneeling beside her, he shivered as her soft fingers caressed his sensitive wings. His optics scanned her naked body. Her long straight black hair so full and thick… So different from the short curly graying hair that hid her port! He ran his fingers lightly over that curly hairs, his optic ridges drawing together in slight confusion as to the color difference.

She giggled as she noticed his expression as he glanced from her dyed hair to her pubic hair. “Oh TC, we humans dye the hair that we show in public. Kind’ve like a paint job,” she purred.

So she painted her straight hair a different color? TC kind’ve understood. “Where’s your port?” he asked.

She smiled; spreading her legs she guided his curious fingers within her. The soft, slick warmth surrounded his digits, seeming to form fit around them. He probed his one finger deep within her, smiling as her moans told him he was doing it right. Leaning down, he licked her breast, watching in fascination as her entire body seemed to tremble.

“Mmmmm, TC,” she purred, “It’s time you laid down.”

But he’d been doing good hadn’t he?!? Why did she want to quit?! “But… But..” he stammered as he pulled his fingers out of her soft port. Visions of that angry gray mech flooding briefly over his meta.

She smiled as she sat up. Gripping his intakes, she forced him down on the couch. “At my age, I know what I like. So you just lay down and let me teach you,” she purred as she took his lips, her fingers dancing over his wings. He arched up against her soft skin, his hands on her breasts. “Extend your bonding cable. Eight inches length, four inches width,” she whispered in his audio.

She slid down his chassis as he did so. Her mouth surrounding his stiffened cable with sheer bliss… “Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” he moaned as he tangled his fingers in her long hair. He’d never felt anything like this. The soft wet warmth of her mouth… Her tongue flicking over him… His entire air frame began to vibrate, his engines beginning to roar..

But then she stopped, right before his overload..

“Nooooooooooooooooooooo,” he gasped in dismay.

She clucked her tongue at him. “That’s not the good part,” she purred.

He patted for air. His systems trying desperately to cool.. He shivered as she climbed up him, as she grabbed his shaft, as she slowly sat down to straddle him. His optics wanted to deactivate then as he felt her tight, wet, warmth surround his cable.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” he moaned as he arched against her. His hands gripped her soft buttocks, squeezing them almost painfully.

Then the woman began to move. His cable sliding in-and-out of her warmth… TC shook as the waves of stimulation rolled through him. Her fingers caressing along the seams of his cockpit.. Her lips caressing his… She began to speed up her movements, her body trembling as she gasped for air. Suddenly she began to almost writhe, her port tightening around him in waves. She collapsed against him, her body covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

“Are… Are you OK?” he asked with concern in his voice.

She chuckled, “Oh, I’m more than ok. Now it’s your turn to overload.”

Now that he had her permission, TC thrust his pelvis against hers. Forcing his cable in and out of her with sure strokes.. “Mmmmmm Sharon!” he screamed over and over again. Her soft wetness driving his sensors wild! His core heated up, his engines roaring.. “AHhhhhhhhhhhh!” he yelled as he threw his head back and went limp in overload.

------

The next morning Sharon grinned at him over a cup of her coffee. She was still naked, enjoying his optics on her. “You know, I’d make that patch program just because of how good you were last night,” she purred with a slight smile.

TC blushed, but in his meta he told that gray mech in his memories to kiss his aft – he wasn’t pathetic after all!

----

For weeks Sharon and her grad students worked on the program to fix the clones. And eventually they succeeded. Unbeknowest to their Decepticon creators, the clones were now free. Free of their residual memories. Free of their innate fear of Megatron. Free of the possible Decepticon overrides in the future. And most importantly, free to live and learn as companions to the humans…

----

… Ok, I just can’t write smut without plot.. So now you all can do whatever you want with the clones… enjoy…

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