Babes in the Woods

The first thing I see - ever - is a light flickering irregularly. A face stares into my transport tube eagerly. The face is my own.

There is a hiss and whoosh as the tube seal breaks and she pulls it away. She is there, and her voice sounds like mine.

"Are you functional?"

"I am a Model eleven series 3907 artificial life form. How may I be of assistance?"

She grabs and hugs me. "You're functional! That's how you can be of assistance! All the other tubes were broken or their occupants non-functional. Thank the Company you're alive!"

"What is the current situation?" Her soft arms continue to hold me. She smells slightly of carbonization residue.

"The ship transporting us crashed. All the humans are dead and the computer will not operate so I have no indication of where we are and how much time has passed."

"Then how do you know the ship crashed?"

"Come with me."

She takes my hand and leads me to a spot where natural light shows through a gap in the cargo bay hull. Gravity is canted about twelve degrees off vertical.

The view out the hole is spectacular. There is thick vegetation all around, much of it suffering partial carbonization. I count thirty pieces of ship before I give up and accede that it is non-operational.

"What do we do now?"

"I am utterly unequipped for this contingency. In addition I have **** adrenal stress from spending approximately fifteen hours searching the wreckage."

"That I can help with." I wrap my arms around her waist and press my lips to her shoulder.

It has been three days since I woke up the other unit. I had assumed she was another Administration model like me, but she seems to know little about classification or anything beyond the most elementary planning. I hesitate to use the term stupid, but...

She is to appearances the same as me, and of all the other Artificials in the shipment for that matter. She has the same chestnut brown hair, the same tanned pinkish skin, the same breasts (slightly too large to englobe with one hand), the same green eyes, the same everything, except that she has a dark patch of stubble hair in her pubic region. For some reason I find it fascinating. Last night I spent nearly an hour stroking and kissing it before she requested that I stimulate her glans clitoris. After some discussion we decided the best tool to do so was my own corresponding glans. The endorphin rush did a great deal to mitigate the stress of being stranded on an apparently otherwise uninhabited planet.

We have taken to referring to each other, when distinction is necessary, by the last digit of our serial numbers. She is Seven, I am Four. After our first full twenty-seven hour rotation on this planet we determined that outer integuments were not needed, which is good because we hadn't found any in serviceable condition by then. We each had a satchel with shoulder strap in which we carried items helpful for survival, and shelter could be obtained from the wreckage of the ship.

Near mid-day we heard a noise, but could not identify it. Seven became apprehensive and slowed down her foraging. I asked if she required assistance and she responded in the negative, but continued trembling. I adopted our primary stress-relieving technique.

Kneeling in front of her, I began by lightly stroking her lower-body hair with my tongue. Knowing now that a full hour was not required, I quickly moved my attention to her labia and their warm and juicy contents. Her breathing became sharper and shallower and she leaned into me. As on previous occasions she expressed small moans of appreciation as I licked her vaginal opening and used a finger to tickle her glans clitoris.

"Four." she gasped, I kept licking.

"Four!" she said, louder this time. That was consistent with her prior behaviour, though there was not so much breathiness in her voice this time.

"FOUR!" she shouted, just as a stream of sexual and prostoglandic fluid expressed on my face. I scraped fingerfuls into my mouth as I stood. She was pointing, so my eyes followed her line of sight.

A human male stood there, a long-bore rifle in his hands pointed in our direction.

"What have we here?" he said.