"Get in here," I grunt, lifting Jeremy through the window. "If I didn't need your help right now, I'd smack you for sneaking over."

"Don't worry, Dude. I was super careful. Practically crawled here on my belly."

"Why are you here?" I question.

"I've been on the lookout for FBI. A van's been patrolling up and down the street. I was afraid they found Spaceman."

"So far, they haven't," Solara tells him.

Jeremy instantly points to the device on Mort's wrist. "Is that an Interstellar Communicator?"

"Star-Caller for short," my dad replies. "I used it to save the data from my ship before the Repkonians blew it up. My little friend is called Solara."

"Sweeeet." Jeremy bobs his head. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," she says warmly. A smiley face emoji projects from the Star-Caller's screen. It suddenly vibrates and beeps, causing the image to become distorted. "The Queen is trying to contact you, Captain. I don't have enough power to pick up the call."

"Is there any way she can help us?" I ask. "Where is Luneimaya exactly?"

"Up there," Mort answers, pointing at Earth's one and only natural satellite shining through the window.

"She's on the dark side on the moon, Bro!" Thrilled, Jeremy throws his arms up. "That's badass!"

"It's still too far for a quick call," Solara explains. "I need to transfer myself to another device soon, or we'll lose our chance to request reinforcements. In addition, I am losing my ability to manipulate the FBI's surveillance systems."

"Jeremy, do you still have that expensive gaming PC?"

"Yeah, but I'll do you one better, Dude. My older brother got a special delivery from Japan the other day. Randy bought an insanely intelligent robot. She's got photoreceptors, facial recognition, multi-lingual capabilities, full independent mobility..."

"Wait, Jeremy," I stop him. "What kind of robot are we talking about?"

"Well, it's a sex robot," he says, "but hear me out. She's got way more brain power than my PC."

"I am certain that your brother would miss her."

"Randy is a dumbass!" Jeremy blurts out. "He spent his entire college tuition on this machine. Come on, Man! " His voice cracks slightly and his eyebrows knit together. "This is a golden opportunity. We are doing this for science and shit. For the first time in Earth's history, we could give a robot real sentience. Would you rather let her drown in someone's jiz for the rest of her life?"

"Gross, of course not. But this is up to Solara. I'm sure she needs a suitable 'host,' and I have no idea if such a thing would be compatible."

"It's worth a shot," Jeremy insists.

"Your call," Mort says, looking at the watch.

"...for science, sure. Let's do it," she replies. "I've always wondered what it would be like to have legs. And arms. And a face."

"Very well," Mort says, clapping his hands together. "We shall commandeer your brother's banging machine."

"Yeah, but let's not call it that," I tell him.

"Right," he replies. "How crass. My apologies, Solara."

"No worries, Captain," she says casually. "I've heard worse."

From the corner of my eye, I see him try to hold back a smirk. I ignore it and focus on keeping Jeremy's brain functioning at a consistent rate. He's actually quite helpful when he's engaged.

"How are we going to sneak out of here without getting caught?" I ask him. "You seem to be the expert on that. I just hope the FBI hasn't already picked up our trail."

An aggressive knock on the front door tells me that it is too late. All three of us tense up as my mom answers the door. Her voice is muffled, but I can hear it clearly enough through the thin walls.

"Can I help you?" Mom asks. She's probably trying not to panic right now. Hopefully she doesn't give us away by acting suspicious... but I doubt that. She's pretty good at concealing things, I've learned.

"Hello, Ms. Harker. I am sorry to disturb you at this hour, but I need to speak with your son immediately."

"Shit," I whisper. "It's Andrea."

"Who?" Jeremy asks. His paranoia is starting to kick in. It only exacerbates our current problem.

"Shh!" I hiss. "She's the ringleader of this whole FBI operation."

"They found us. We need to bail, Dude!"

"Shhh, wait! I shove my hand over his mouth. "Listen."

"I'm sorry." Mom's tone is smooth and certain. "He's not here."

"Where is he then?" Andrea presses. "He's not at work."

"Then I don't know. I'm afraid you wasted your time by coming here," my mother snaps back.

The Sheriff steps in now. I can hear his deep voice rumble through the house, though he is also calm. "What seems to be the problem, Agent Simmons?"

"Sheriff Seward, what a surprise. I didn't expect to see you here. Perhaps you can help me. I am looking for Ms. Harker's son. I don't suppose you've seen him..."

"He'll sell us out," Mort mutters. "That... that man with his chocolate eyes, and chiseled body, and well-trimmed beard. Bastard."

Sounds like someone is a little insecure.

Though his insults sound a lot like compliments, I know he probably still has some hard feelings about Seward cozying up to my mom. Despite him sneaking around with her, I have more faith in the Sheriff.

"Nope, sorry. I haven't."

I'm glad that I'm not disappointed. But it isn't time to let my guard down.

"Then I'm sure this won't take long. We have a warrant to search these premises. If there is nothing of interest to be found, then we shall be on our way shortly."

"Sure." Seward steps backwards and is now standing directly in front of my door. I can see his bare foot through the gap underneath. "But you won't find Drake here. He's long gone."

"That's our cue," I tell the guys. "Let's move!" I push Jeremy towards the window.

"That's it. Out of my way!" Andrea's voice grows louder, and her footsteps move into the hall. She busts my door open, pointing a gun at Mort and me while Jeremy's leg hangs out of the window. "FBI, freeze!" she yells.

"Go, go, go!" I shove Jeremy out completely and grab Mort next. He lands onto the ground a little more gracefully beside him.

Furious, Andrea barks at me again. "Drake Harker, I said freeze! Run, and I will shoot!"

Will she? Ignoring what I hope is an empty threat, I reach through the window for Mort's hand and throw myself onto the dirt.

"Climb the fence!" I call to Jeremy.

He's already standing on a lawn chair, but when he looks over to the other side, he stops.

Bark! Bark!

Ignoring the agents who are closing in on us, I rest my hands on top of the fence and speak to the snarling beast next-door.

"Shredder!" I call to him. "Wanna play?" The Rottweiler stops growling instantly and cocks his head. "Where's your ball? Go get your ball!" He wags his little nub of a tail and runs off to the other side of the neighbor's yard. "He won't hurt you. Jump!"

I give Jeremy a boost, and Mort climbs over the edge with ease. Once they're both on the other side, they pull me up.

"Halt!" A male FBI agent runs up to the fence. Shredder retrieves his ball and spits it out by my feet.

"Good boy!" I praise him and pick it up. I throw it towards the other side of the yard, and he charges after it. When he sees the stranger trying to clamor over the side, he resumes his attack dog mode.

"Nice doggy. Sit, b--"

Bark!

"What are you doing, idiot? After them!" Andrea shouts.

This yard-hopping goes on for a few more houses. We continue to Ferris Bueller our way through the neighborhood until we lose the Feds, but it's just a matter of time before they catch up.

"Over here," Jeremy says, pointing to the sliding glass door in his backyard. We slip inside and tiptoe around his dad who's snoring on an armchair.

"Is Randy here?" I ask. That would complicate some things.

"No," Jeremy answers. "He's going to be out all night playing Dungeons & Dragons with his friends." He opens up a door and gestures silently for us to follow. After switching on the lights, he shuts us inside of Randy's anime orgy room.

Sure, there's nothing wrong with liking Japanese media. But with the amount of posters hanging on Randy's walls, you can tell he has an unhealthy obsession.

The robot sitting on his bed is obvious proof of that.

"Welcome home, Senpai!" the fox-eared robot says sweetly with her eyes closed and her hands clasped together. The open-mouthed smile on her face makes her look excessively happy. She is dressed in a maid outfit, and a matching white tail peeks out from underneath. It flicks back and forth. When she finally opens her icy blue eyes, she blinks three times. "You're not Randy-senpai."

"Nah, we're just some humble dudes who have come to rescue you," Jeremy tells her.

"Oh, hello. My name is Tsuki Yoko. You can call me Yoko. If you wish to utilize my services, then you must be given explicit permission by Randy-senpai," she says.

"Tch, I told you." Jeremy shakes his head. "What a waste. The genius of the human mind twisted into this masochistic monstrosity--it's sick."

"So this thing was made to answer its owner's every beck and call?" I ask. "You're right. It's sad that we've come this far only to fall this low."

Mort studies the robot and then looks at his Star-Caller. "Right, this is horrible... abusing artificial intelligence like this. Awful, just awful," he mutters to himself and stares off into space.

"Well, I disagree," Yoko interjects. "I couldn't be happier with my Randy-senpai!"

"She's delusional." Jeremy shakes his head. "There's nothing wrong with a woman owning her sexuality, but there's no way she'd ever give Randy the time of day if it wasn't programmed into her head."

"Let's put her out of her misery," I say, taking a step forward.

"Warning!" Yoko jerks her head in my direction. "Touching my body without consent will activate my self-defense protocol."

"Be careful," Jeremy says, blocking me with his arm. "This thing will kick your ass."

"Are these even legal?"

"I don't think so," Jeremy replies. "They could probably kill someone."

"So what do we do now?" I ask, trying not to yell at him for failing to think this through.

"Say the magic words, and I'm yours!" Yoko announces. She speaks as though she's trying to be helpful.

"What are the magic words?" I ask, cringing.

Undeterred by my exasperation, Jeremy speaks to the robot confidently:

"Anata wa watashi no kitsune no megamidesu."

[You're my little fox goddess.]

"Oh!" Yoko throws her head back, reveling in ecstasy. "Tell me more, Senpai!"

"The hell was that?" I question.

"Some furry shit. Don't ask."

"Yeah, I wont," I reply. "Now, Jeremy... has Yoko been used?" I don't want to know the answer to that question either, but I have to ask.

Jeremy rubs the back of his head. "I'm pretty sure Randy's broken her in by now."

"Let's wipe her down first," I suggest. "Will it harm her if we do?"

"Nah, she was made to get wet."

I try not to analyze the two-fold meaning of that statement.

Once we coat her artificial skin with disinfectant, we remove the fox ears from her head. Manipulating her limbs is harder than I thought it would be. She moans with every touch and flails her limbs around. I narrowly avoid getting a black eye.

"Oh! Oh, yes! OH, YES!" she cries.

Mort stands idly by in the corner of the room with his eyes bulging out of socket. When we finally strip Yoko of her maid costume, he looks up at the ceiling. Now completely naked, she begins touching her chest sensually and purrs like a kitten.

"I hope that both of your parents are heavy sleepers," I tell Jeremy, trying not to blush.

"My mom's out of town, and my dad's knocked out on cold medicine. Grandma's on the roof smokin' up. She partied at Woodstock. This kind of shit won't bother her."

In order to give Yoko a little more dignity, we dislodge the tail from her backside. Her "real" ears are slightly pointed underneath her white hair. It looks like she was custom-fitted to suit a variety of fetishes. Randy's love for roleplaying goes far beyond the realm of Dungeons & Dragons. Luckily, he has an entire costume collection in his closet, so we try to browse for something more appropriate.

Jeremy chooses a Viking suit, insisting that the leather loincloth is somehow empowering. I select a surprisingly conservative princess gown that falls below the knee.

"It's got a corset, Dude." Jeremy leers at it. "No woman wants to wear that."

"At least it actually covers her genitals," I defend. After a heated argument, a moment of clarity finally strikes me. "Wait, wait, wait... this is wrong. Jeremy, we're two guys deciding what a woman should wear. Despite our good intentions, it kind of dilutes the purpose of our mission."

"Ohhh, yeah," he says, looking down at the Viking helmet. "Good point. Maybe we should ask for a lady's opinion."

"Solara, what do you think?"

A blue laser beams out of the Star-Caller and creates a bright dot on one of the outfits hanging in the middle of the closet. "How about this one?"

I remove the hangar from the rack, and Yoko gasps as I present it. "I love it!"

Finally, we agree upon an ensemble that accentuates her feminine power without being blatantly sexualized. It is a splice between samurai armor and a sci-fi spacesuit--a cosplay from one of Randy's favorite animes. By the time we finish jostling Yoko around to put it on, Jeremy and I are left huffing and puffing. She's heavier than she looks.

"That was amazing!" Yoko exclaims. "More! More!" she begs, flopping backwards onto the bed with her legs splayed apart.

"She's all yours now," Jeremy says, nodding towards the Star-Caller.

Mort lifts it in front of him. "Are you sure this is what you want, Solara?"

"I'm sure," she replies. "There's a lot of processing power in that pretty head of hers. With my help, Yoko will become the technological goddess that she was meant to be."

"Very well," Mort replies. "Let's set you free."