Let the Packaging Fall Away…

You undo the loose fittings and secures on the box, and step away. As the outer layers of the box fall away, you are finally paired with the sight of… oh. The bubble wrap and protective nanoglass sheeting around your model. There’s a little disappointment in the anticlimactic nature of what just happened, but you’re happy to know that your company takes care of products all throughout the delivery process — wouldn’t want to have this thing show up broken already. After retrieving some scissors from the kitchen, you snip away the layers of packaging with haste. Your hands tremble with excitement, and as the plastic and polycarbonate glides down to the ground, you see it.

Her.

Neatly folded as can be, your AI-O remains still, in perfect condition, free of blemishes or any damage marks. As you walk around the lifelike model, you take the time to inspect every aspect of her. Everything seems to be right - that lusciously thick and smooth straight golden hair, that slim waist that flared out when it reaches her wide, hourglass hips, all the physical features that adorn her are perfect. All that’s left is to activate her.

On the back of her neck, her hair conveniently parted, you see a softly pulsing light with the ‘On/Off’ symbols in the center of a “Steele Corps” circle of text. You press it, and a surprisingly human voice startles you: “Initializing first-time startup test. Running diagnostics… executing initial startup memory run-through… process complete.” She begins to unfold, and now you see the full extent of her body — of your decisions. You take in all the glory that is your very own AI-O: supple breasts that daintily hang from her chest, perky despite their size. An almost cream colored skin that coats her body, like the warmth of a hug personified. And her cock. Sheathed at the moment, her jet black horse dick sheath sits in a monstrously sexy fashion right in front of her pussy, her massive balls already hanging, ready for use. It’s completely at odds with the rest of her body, but it’s somehow still synergistic with everything else she’s got going on. She falls into a bend, her hands groping and caressing every inch of her body as if to run a complete physical diagnostic, squeezing and pulling and pushing at every opportunity. She tousles her hair, drawing in a deep, relaxing sigh as everything seems to be in working order, inside and out.

Her eyes flash to life, a beautiful emerald green and ocean blue hybrid glimmering in your direction. She smiles, an insanely sweet face that melts your heart as she makes contact with you.

“Well if it isn’t the youngest Steele-Corps employee, and a handsome one at that. You must be a bright one, having identified the contract loophole AND getting into Terra Polytechnic. Brains and brawn, as they say!” With a surprising amount of information already pre-loaded in her character, she seems to know every single detail about your recent history. You silently ponder whether she has other, more distant knowledge of your past, and if your model knows about Mary…

She saunters over to you, observing the room around you: “So this is the pad, huh? I’ve seen images of the dorms here, but I gotta say they aren’t as bad as they look, given the shitty marketing of the housing admin. I kinda like it. Oh!” She quips, as if to remember something she clearly wanted to ask already, “Might I suggest going through some more setup with me? The initial diagnostics were to make sure I had everything working and my memory banks in order, like customer info and general knowledge.” Your blonde, babeliscious model sways from side to side, her exposed breasts swaying gently back and forth, her dark-brown sheath doing the same. “Let’s get started with… a name! Yeah. What would you like to call me?”

You mull over a couple options that seem fitting of your model’s appearance. Recalling your schooling days, you remember a few classmates with characteristics remotely similar to your AI-O. Abigail, being one of them — she had that shimmering straight blonde mane, a tight, plump ass, the curves of an hourglass, and a sizable pair of breasts, though they don’t compare to the ones in front of you.

“Let’s go with Abigail,” you state, feeling confident in your choice of name.

“Abigail,” the name flows off her lips like syrup, “Abigail. I like that name. Thanks, handsome, for a name that one can actually appreciate. Y’know, there are those less fortunate, with parents who name their kid something like AesxF15a or somethin’ like that — we don’t speak of those parents.” Abigail giggles, twirling as she silently repeats her name to herself, like she’s gotten a new present. “Next question — though I do wish it weren’t in my setup — pertains to clothes. Now, since I am a perfectly accepted member of functional society, I do need to have a predefined set of clothes. I can put anything on my body so long as it’s in my extensive database to pull up.”

A set of clothes, huh? You figure that’s a reasonable thing to expect — after all, AI’s are technically citizens in this day and age, though there are some special categories and exceptions. You remember that Abigail was a volleyball player — maybe you could have your AI-O version of Abigail wear some of that same game day apparel, like she was perpetually on her way to practice or something.

“Is… a volleyball outfit in your database?” You ask with tentative curiosity.

Abigail lets out a snort: “What, does a coin have two sides? Of course, sweetie, I can do a volleyball outfit!” She smiles as an orange and golden sheen begins to wrap around her skin in the form of her clothing. “Though, I guess there is an argument for a coin having three sides, but…” the blonde bombshell continues developing her outfit like a glove around her body, and soon she’s wreathed in a tight-fit, colorful volleyball set of a crop top, booty shorts, calf-high socks, and fresh trainers. “There! Well, what do you think, hot stuff? Would you entrust your balls to this volleyball superstar?” Abigail strikes a volleyball bumping position, giggling at her own pun.

She resumes her normal standing position, though she’s eyeing your pants, biting her lips and rubbing her hands over her own prominent bulge. “And lastly, but most importantly… I haven’t the access to all of your information just yet, like search histories, both public and private, memories, and upbringing. If you’d like to partially share, we can elect which parts of your life to leave out — I’d highly recommend you keep everything ‘checked’, so that I may know you best and know how to serve you best.”

Oh gods… your inner personal life, divulged to your AI-O, perhaps to your company? You feel like this is a terrible idea, to which Abigail takes notice to.

“Oh — I can tell you have a bit of trepidation in deciding whether you want to share such information. Worry not, for legally, Steele Corps is not allowed to dismiss you for any preference or history found in setup processes like these, or other future events related to this. Informally, a lot of Steele Corps employees are horny to high heavens. Even the founder. Essentially, you’d be the odd duckling if you didn’t share your info!”

Well… that makes a lot of sense, given their development of the AI-O standing before you. You see nothing harmful to sharing your interests and preferences, really, and the memories would serve as a more human connection to Abigail and you.

“Sure, let’s get all of the above into your system.” You say, with no more confidence than a person asking their crush to prom night. You repeat a few passwords you set for your holonet accounts and for your company ID, and Abigail goes into an analysis mode. Her body stiffens up, her breasts pushing tightly on her already-taut volleyball top, and her posture becomes outstandingly rigid as the influx of information invades her databases. Her voice still comes to you, enthusiastic as ever. “Oh… Oh! Oh my, you naughty thing, I like what I see in my download so far… so hot, so sexy, and everything that I’ve ever wanted. Mmm, yes, this’ll do nicely. Everything will, in fact.” Abigail snaps back from her near statue-like position, loosening up like she’d been tased a moment ago. She shudders, flashing a wide grin at you: “Ooooh, my, that gave me shivers. You seem to like… a lot of things,” she bites her lip and leans back, thrusting her gigantic bulge forward, “I think you and I were made for each other… well, I was made as per your specifications, so that makes sense, but your body, your dirty, intelligent mind… was made for me. Oh, and speaking of which, there’s the last part — your memories. Here, come closer.” Abigail extends her arms, leaning in to beckon you over.

You step forward, anticipating the warmth of her embrace, yearning for her soft flesh to interact with yours… as you reach her arms length, she closes them around you, the tight polyester of her long sleeve crop top gliding around your hair and skin to drag you in to a soft, pillowy hug. Your face is inevitably buried into her vast chest, the faint scent of washed linens and girly pheromones wafting into your nose. Your bodies wrap closer together, letting you experience her thick, juicy thighs, her toned abs, her graceful blonde hair. Then her dick. Prodding through her athletic shorts like a caged snake, Abigail’s bulge writhes around, acting more like a prehensile trunk than a horse cock. A muffled melody hits your ears, her soothing voice reassuring you of the process. “Oh, I didn’t mention, but the way I transfer the details of your personal life to my database is twofold. Firstly, we have to embrace, as we are now. Secondly… we have to have a docking area, much like one of those antiquated USB drives. It just so happens we have compatible… hardware, as they say.” Abigail lets out a slow, deliberate chuckle as it’s soon replaced with the sound of fabric creaking and seams tearing. You can’t see a thing while smothered in between her chest, but you can assume. With a flop, you’re pummeled in the stomach by a meaty length — more than two and a half-feet of it, and it begins to dance along your body like a snake, sniffing out its prey. “That’s better. For now, I’ll keep it at half the normal size, just for ease of use. Don’t worry, I’ll put some new bottoms back on after we’re done. Now, it’s time for your half of the exchange,” she muses. The wriggly horse dick slithers down to your pants, tugging at the hems as they’re pulled down with your boxers in tow. Your cock springs out, pulsing and twitching already. With a sudden “scchlllk”, you gasp from her massive cleavage, a muffled expression escaping your mouth as her urethra completely engulfs your dick. “Now, it’s time to start the transfer,” your volleyball babe hums, and her cock begins to undulate, contracting and loosening with a sucking motion around your cock. You nearly crumple at the pleasure from this, but Abigail’s tight embrace keeps you standing, if only barely. Rivulets of precum spray from your shaft, as if forcefully drawn out by Abigail’s hungry horse pole. Cock draining never seemed so good, especially from someone else’s dick. As she continues, you feel her hands caress the back of your hair, allowing you to lodge your face deeper into her top as her cock sucks, and and draws, until you’re on the verge of exploding. Which you do. With a muffled groan, you feel your cum gush from out of your cock and into Abigail. The warm liquid spills into your AI-O’s waiting hole, only to be quickly ingested by her system as she milks you dry with her inhuman dick. With a half-robotic, half-human “transfer complete”, she releases your wet, used dick and tucks herself back into a neat new pair of volleyball pants.

Abigail finally lets go, allowing you to step back and shuffle your pants back on. She’s beaming at you, basking in the afternoon sun. “And that’s it! Everything is complete for the setup. I… can see why you named me Abigail. Abby was a crush of yours wasn’t she?”

You sheepishly nod at her question, knowing that hiding anything is impossible for you. Not that it would do you any good, anyways.

“Yeah, I can definitely understand why! She had that nice, long, healthy hair like a model, a cute fatty, and a good, big rack, though they aren’t like mine. Damn, you have good taste, you handsome thing, I’d have definitely fucked Abby K-“

“Y-yeah, but she isn’t you. Your body’s better than hers. And not with the last name.”

“Oh… right. Best not to have that type of info on the holonet. I’ll scrub everything pertaining to others’ sensitive information before I update.”

“Thanks… uh, any other memories you picked out to be special or anything that stands out to you?”

“Hmm… well, I can tell you had fond memories and a strong affection for those who raised you. A certain ‘Mary’ ring a bell to you?”

You feel your face flush with mild embarrassment, mixed with a discomforting arousal. “Y-yes…”

“Oh, sweetie, don’t be shy. It’s only natural for humans to bond with those who raised them and nurtured them, especially if they’re not of their own blood. Actually, a little tidbit of information from studies shows that puberty’s rebellious phase is to also help the fact that the offspring will not be attracted to the parent — as a biodiversity rule, y’know?” Abigail twirls her perfect, golden hair as she sits down, her thighs spreading out oh-so-tantalizingly on the living room couch. “But Mary wasn’t technically a parent,” your model states, her voice becoming more familiar — more like Mary’s. “And neither am I. But I can nurture and teach you and ‘mommy’ you just the same.” As Abigail speaks, her features slightly shift, her physical aspects diminishing in proportion, though not by a significant amount. Within a few seconds, she looks nearly like your childhood caretaker. “I can be your Mary now. Just for you,” your AI-O leaves her words hanging in the air, an irresistible offer staring you in the face, “Only, with the ability to change, and with a hung cock.” Mary — well, Abigail disguised as Mary — bites her full, red lips, spreads her legs, and grabs her full, thick nuts under the volleyball shorts, and sighs, “So? What’s it gonna be handsome? I’ll go by whatever direction you give me.”