<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><channel><title>Pinky Rooselvelt on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/authors/pinky-rooselvelt/</link><description>Recent content in Pinky Rooselvelt on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Thu, 09 Apr 2009 00:00:00 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="/authors/pinky-rooselvelt/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>Robot Prime Directives</title><link>/stories/2009/04/09/robot-prime-directives/</link><pubDate>Thu, 09 Apr 2009 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2009/04/09/robot-prime-directives/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Chris did the best he could to keep moving up the hill through the thick woods. He wore a thick shirt and jeans which was good in the terrain but it was getting very warm and he was sweating and getting dehydrated. The robots were following him and getting closer. They had already shot him with a dart about an hour earlier that released small nanites, tiny robots, into his bloodstream. They were already multiplying and making some changes to his body, most noticeably that his penis had become rock hard and the urge to simply stop and masturbate was almost overwhelming. As soon as he was clear of the robots he could take the time, but not yet. But it was a major distraction and it prevented him from running too much.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>