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The
following story is property of the author. It is of an adult nature and is intended
for entertainment purposes only.
Please feel free to direct any feedback to me at the email link above. Thank
you.
-Dr. Robo
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We meet by chance in a bar, or perhaps one of those exclusive nightclubs uptown.
I notice you sitting by yourself at a dimly lit corner table, and eventually
make my way over to you. You see me as a dark, somewhat mysterious man with
'rugged-good looks'. I view you as a sexy, curvaceous woman, your dress, hair
and makeup accentuating every inch of your beauty. I introduce myself, and after
you offer me a seat, I take it, stopping the nearest waiter to order a bottle
of the club's finest wine. After a little conversation and a lot of wine, I
find out that your name is Debbie, and that you are here alone. With each passing
sip, you get more and more tipsy, until you realize that you are in no condition
to get yourself home. You ask me for help, but I suggest that we go back to
my place instead. You agree, hoping for a night of meaningless passion, unaware
of what a long night you are truly in for.
We arrive at my humble abode, which is actually quite a large mansion. To you,
in the dead of night, it looks like a haunted house, as if it was straight out
of a black-and-white horror flick. I help you from the car, the ride home and
night air have done wonders for your inebriation, but you still do not have
command of all your senses. As we approach the front door, it creaks open as
if on its own. This startles you, and you are startled even more to see a woman
standing in the doorway. I introduce her as my maid, Inga, as I walk (and you
stumble) by her and into the house. If you were sober, you would have noticed
her near-motionless state, as she stood with her back straight, chest out as
if in a military inspection line. Her only movements are the slight rising and
falling of her rather large bosom underneath her French maid's uniform as she
slowly breathes in and out, and on the rare occasion the blink of her eyes.
Her skin is also a bit pale, yet she is physically fit, her trim, and toned
body evident underneath her rather skimpy outfit. But, alas, you do not notice
these peculiarities, and continue into the room, one arm draped over my shoulders.
We enter the main sitting room, and I help you into a very comfortable chair.
I take your coat, and give it to Inga, who has quietly followed us in. I nod
to Inga, and grin a little with my back to you. She turns and leaves the room
without as much as a word. You notice her walk, which is slow and stiff. You
ask me about her, and I tell you that I have known Inga for a long time, and
I think the world of her. She is very
loyal to me, the best that I've ever had. You are about to ask more when she
returns to the room. I instruct her to make preparations, as you will be 'staying
the night'. She nods, stiffly turns and leaves the room exactly the way she
did before.
As you sit in the chair, you are still a bit intoxicated and dizzy, but your
senses are slowly returning to you. I offer to show you the rest of the house,
and you agree, hoping that that tour will end in the bedroom. It will, but unbeknownst
to you, only after a bit of a detour. As we walk down a hallway, I suddenly
stop in front of a large bookcase. I pull back the shelves and open a hidden
door, and we descend down a dark staircase into what feels like a large room.
You feel a bit of a draft, and your ears perk up at the faint sound of machinery
humming in the distance. I flick on a light switch, and you squint as the room
becomes brightly illuminated, the white walls and tiled floor reflecting the
fluorescent lights above. You are left speechless as you survey the room, which
is actually a rather large laboratory filled with all sorts of scientific equipment.
Seemingly, every inch of wall space is covered with computer technology. The
far wall looks like all the others, except the center, which is clear of equipment,
looks to be covered by a stainless steel sheet, which is about 4 feet wide and
extends from the ceiling to the floor. This section of the wall is illuminated
more than the rest, and even more electronic devices are stationed near it.
A mass of cables runs from the wall and surrounding gear to a large computer
terminal nearby. Your eyes are fixated on the on that section of the room as
you walk into the lab and ask what all this is for.
"Well, my dear, I have gained much of my obvious wealth from my tremendous
breakthroughs in scientific research, most dealing with biotechnology."
You nod, not quite sure if you understand what you're hearing. "Using that
wealth, I have been able to build my own personal laboratory, where I can work
on my more 'personal' projects. You see, we live in the age of computers. Computers
that have become so advanced that they have replaced humans in a variety of
situations, from mundane tasks like assembly-line work to more flashy and exciting
ventures, like the sex industry." You turn to look at me with a quizzical
expression on your face, wondering what I'm getting at. "That's right,
anything from Internet porn to mechanical sex toys requires some sort of a computer
or electronic device these days." I start walking toward you, rubbing my
hands together mischievously. "Well, I have taken the human-machine relationship
to a new level." A slight nervous feeling creeps over you, and you reflexively
start to back away from me, toward the metal wall. "Throughout history,
people have dreamed of the ultimate fantasy, of the perfect sexual partner to
fulfill their every erotic need and desire. Unfortunately, something has always
been missing. Inanimate objects, like 'toys' and ' love dolls', are at your
disposal 24 hours a day, but are cold and inhuman. Yet, real human beings, while
warm and passionate, are quite unpredictable and have their own thoughts and
desires at heart, unable to truly dedicate themselves to totally and unequivocally
pleasuring you. So, I have combined the two... creating the ultimate sex machine!!!
Let me show you what I have created. You know Inga, correct?"
You turn around, and Inga is standing behind you, straight and silent as always.
You gasp, as her sudden presence startles you. A million thoughts are racing
through your head, trying to comprehend what you have just been told. What does
he mean by 'human-machine relationship'? What is this 'ultimate sex machine'?
What does this have to do with Inga...or me???? You open your mouth, unsure
of what to say, but you are cut off before a word escapes your lips.
"That's right, Debbie, I have 'created' Inga here as the first of many
sex machines, programmed for total obedience and pleasure. As you can see, she
is perfect in every way." Your eyes roam her body, up her perfectly shaped
and smoothly stockinged legs, over her large, plump breasts, to her pretty face,
featuring dark brown eyes, luscious red lips and framed with shoulder-length
blonde hair. You still cannot fathom what I am talking about. He built her?
"Built is not the word I would use...more like 'transformed'. She was a
normal, living, breathing woman, just like you. She still is, except now, she's
been improved." You have heard enough of this, and are starting to get
the creeps. What am I talking about? You don't believe it, but also do not care
to stick around and find out anymore. You ask to leave, but your request is
denied. "Oh no, I have plans for you. Do you think our meeting in the club
was simply per chance? I've been watching you, and it is now time for you to
join us..."
With that, you try to make for the door, but in your less-than-peak condition,
I have no trouble grabbing you. I quickly snap what looks like two thick silver
bracelets onto your wrists, and Inga does the same to your ankles. As I carry
you kicking and screaming toward the metal wall. Inga activates a lever next
to it. A giant electromagnet behind the stainless steel activates, pulling your
wrists and ankles (and the rest of you) up against the wall, facing out, with
your legs spread and your arms bent at the elbows so your hands are even with
your head. You struggle to move, but the pull of the magnet is just too great.
You scream and curse at me, but I just chuckle and turn to the large computer
terminal just a few feet from you.
As I set to work, I order Inga to prepare you for the 'transformation'. She
walks in front you, and sizes you up, both with her eyes and hands. She pulls
the straps of your dress off your shoulders, revealing your sexy bra underneath.
She then unfastens the bra, and lets it fall to the ground, exposing your beautiful
breasts to the cool laboratory air, which stiffens your pink nipples almost
immediately. Jolts of sexual tension hit you as Inga caresses your body, running
her hands over every inch of you, checking you for any imperfections. Finding
none, she spends some extra time on your sensitive areas, working you into somewhat
of a frenzy. You thrash your head back and forth, half in protest of your impending
fate, half in response to the waves of pleasure washing over you.
Sensing that you are sufficiently prepared, Inga begins attaching various pieces
of electronic equipment to your half-naked, heaving body. I look on; ensuring
that each step is performed according to specification. Inga flips a switch
on the wall, and a helmet-like device connected to a number of cables descends
from the ceiling. Holding your head steady with one hand, she guides the helmet
onto your head with the other. You subconsciously marvel at her strength, as
you find that struggling to move your head away from her is quite futile. She
straps your head into the helmet, and places three metallic half-dollar sized
discs on your forehead, one at each temple and one in the middle. Each disc
is connected to the helmet via a computer wire. Your head is now totally immobile,
held in place by the apparatus. You grit your teeth and shut your eyes in a
combination of fear and rage, your voice becoming hoarse from screaming for
release.
Inga continues with the preparation, oblivious to your anger and embarrassment.
She places two more wired discs on your round, ripe breasts, the thin metal
connectors molding themselves around each erect nipple. I watch intently as
she cups each globe with one hand, while smoothing the silver electrode over
your engorged areola with the other. She also connects two wires to tiny ports
on the bracelets around your ankles. Finally, she sticks a small box-shaped
device on the base of your neck, right where your spinal cord meets your brain.
This, of course, is also attached to the other electronic equipment. Inga steps
back, and looks over your restrained body, re-checking every step of the procedure.
Satisfied that you are ready for the process, she rejoins me at the computer
terminal, again standing perfectly at attention.
Sensing this, I look up from the screen, and walk over to you. I take a moment
to survey your entire beautiful form, still trying to fight your way loose from
your bonds. I smirk and shake my head, and seeing this defeats you just a bit,
as if subconsciously you know that there is no way out. As I run my fingers
over your trembling body, I explain what the equipment that is connected to
you is for. I tell you that the box on your neck is a device that will burrow
into your skin, and intertwine its circuits with your spinal cord and brain
stem, giving control of your body and mind to my supercomputer. Do not worry,
you will feel no pain, I promise you. The helmet and associated electrodes will
monitor your ever-changing brain activity, and simultaneously download new data
from the computer to your altered mind as it slowly becomes more computerized.
It will also supply a steady current of electricity into your body, numbing
your senses to the point where you will feel no pain, only pleasure and bliss.
You will also receive current into your breasts, which will enhance your mind-numbing
pleasure, as well as increase their size slightly. I grin devilishly, mumbling
something about a surprising yet agreeable side effect that I should patent
someday. Finally, the wires leading from your feet are designed to siphon off
any excess electrical current, as the human body can only withstand so much
without having certain undesirable consequences.
Having said that, I deem that the time has come. Tears dribble down your flushed
cheeks as you whimper softly, having long since given up trying to escape. I
stand next to the computer terminal, my hand on a large mechanical lever seemingly
taken straight from a 'Frankenstein' movie. With a melodramatic pause, I pull
the switch, which sends the laboratory lurching to life. The ceiling's fluorescent
lights dim as power is drained from them to the far side of the room. Your body
seizes up; your back arched and eyes wide open as you feel the blast of electricity
surge into you. A soft moan escapes your lips as you relax slightly, the comfortable
numbness washing over you, like a warm summer breeze continually caressing your
skin. You start to dampen as the flow of current increases, causing your body
to quiver and shake from the artificial stimulation of your sexuality. You haven't
the slightest clue as to the state of your being, as the evil computer has started
its dirty work. The interface on your neck has begun its task, as metal chip-covered
tendrils have pierced your skin and are slowly wrapping themselves around your
cerebral cortex. Your memories, emotions, and dreams fade away and are replaced
with the cold reality of your new life as a female robot, whose only thoughts
are of servitude to her master. As quickly as the current enters you, so too
does byte after byte of programming, cleansing your brain of its humanity and
rewriting your personality into that of a controllable machine-woman.
I continually monitor your progress from my workstation, occasionally stealing
a glance at your transforming beauty when I am not fixed upon the screens in
front of me. I am entranced by what I see: the raw sensuality created by the
convergence of metal and flesh, artificial and living, machine and (wo)man.
I realize that I derive so much pleasure from the act of robotization itself,
as much or more so than the sexual gratification that will inevitably come later.
I even start to feel a budding erection as I gaze upon you, your trembling body
undergoing a mental metamorphosis before my very eyes. You are no longer struggling
against the restraints, and are slowly accepting the technology and programming
which is fast becoming a part of you. I start to daydream for a second, envisioning
you as my opus, the culmination of a life's work. A human robot, the perfect
woman for me to control as I see fit, even more perfect than Inga, your predecessor
and 'sister'-to-be. My mind wanders as I think about what I have in store for
you, only to catch myself and refocus on finishing the job.
As the transformation continues, the data and power flow reach their peak. Your
bosom jiggles from the current surging into each nipple, hyper-stimulating the
mammary glands inside and causing them to grow in size. Reflexively your body
is interpreting the energy as a hormone substitute, and is acting accordingly.
As this happens, your mind continues to be altered, the combination of electricity
and hardware reconfiguring your brain to accept commands from the master's computer.
Your free will has been erased, replaced with cold, calculating instructions
that you are to follow without question. Your mind is now like a living hard
drive, able to be written and re-written to suit your master's desires.
After a period of time, the procedure nears completion. The hum from the machinery,
steady throughout the process, starts to die down as the flow of power into
you slowly subsides. A final few commands and entered into your computer-mind,
then the data flow into you ceases and you are left alone, unthinking and awaiting
your first order.
I instruct Inga to take the equipment from your body, your firm, toned skin
glistening with a few beads of sweat generated from your ordeal. Your body does
not flinch as she removes each electrode from your head and breasts. Your face
remains blank and emotionless, your eyes stare straight ahead when she pulls
the sub-controller from your neck. All that remains is a dime-sized port imbedded
in your skin, which can provide direct access via cable to my (or any) computer
terminal. As the helmet device is raised back to the ceiling, your hair falls
down to your shoulders, concealing the port, which is the only outward sign
of your new existence. Finally, the magnetic field holding you captive is turned
off, and your bracelet-bonds are removed. As a final touch Inga re-dresses you,
your already tight dress now straining to conceal your enlarged bosom, slowly
rising and falling with each measured breath.
As I walk over to your position, my heart races with anticipation. Your transformation
represents years of hard work and improvements over Inga's. For all of her excellence,
she has lacked some 'features' that I would enjoy in a fembot, such as the ability
to speak, natural fluidity of motion, and rational, intelligent thought. The
modifications I have made to my process will hopefully allow for that, as your
brainpower and computational ability now dwarf hers. Because of her 'flaws',
I have not been able to bring Inga outside my home to test her ability to interact
with others, for fear that I will be discovered. That explains her pale skin
tone, among other things.
I stop directly in front of you, and gaze at your incredible beauty. As I stare
at your rigid frame, fully at attention, I begin to get excited. I look into
your vacant eyes, your tiny pupils automatically adjusting to the lab's bright
fluorescent lights. The blank stare on your sexy face turns me on even more
as with every second that passes I realize more and more that you are mine,
the perfect robot woman programmed to obey my every command. I clear my throat,
readying myself to give the first of undoubtedly many instructions to my new
robo-slave.
"What is your name?"
"My.name.is.Deb.bie."
"What are you?"
"I.am.a.ro.bot."
I swallow tightly upon hearing the words that I have waited for so long to fill
my ears. You speak slowly, in a somewhat clipped, monotonous voice, which excites
me further with each word that, passes your luscious lips.
"Who am I?"
"You.are.my.mas.ter."
"What is your programming?"
"I.am.pro.grammed.to.serve.and.o.bey.with.out.ques.tion."
Again, I pause to reflect, and a grin forms on my lips as I nod my head in agreement.
I take your hand, and instruct you to follow me upstairs, where I will give
you a more 'thorough' inspection. You walk behind me, your ample chest bouncing
slightly with each fluid step, your mind focused on one single goal...to serve
and obey me for the rest of your new life.
THE END