The streetlights were beginning to dim; it was dawn already. Probably getting too late for one more trick. Ashley decided to call it a night -- her first night as a member of the world’s oldest profession. Time to head back to her apartment for a nice, cleansing shower, and then...a battery recharge.
If anyone saw the tall, well-built prostitute walking along the downtown streets in the early dawn, they would never have guessed the two most amazing truths about her: that she had been born a man, and that she was now a robot. The path that had led her here was filled with violence and sex, sex and violence....Ashley smiled, and thought to herself her life would make a good movie script; except no one would believe it.
In the days to come, many of Ashley’s customers would note her resemblance to a TV star, the woman on the TV show “Third Rock From the Sun.” Ashley had to agree, they both had the same long, silky hair, perfect figure, legs that went on forever...and like Kristin Johnston’s character, she had had no plans of becoming a female.
It had just sort of happened.
She had been born 33 years earlier as Mark McCracken. Mark’s life had been unremarkable until he had landed a job as a personal assistant to Michael Magnuson, a wealthy, brilliant and more than slightly eccentric scientist.
Magnuson was in his 50s at the time he had hired Michael as an all-purpose gofer. By that time Magnuson was a millionaire several times over, thanks to a series of patents in the field of robotics. For more than a decade, he had dropped out of sight from the scientific and business communities. The only rumors were that he was pursuing some strange personal passion.
Someone form the outside who could have visited his lab would have said he was playing with dolls -- life-sized, mechanical ones. His goal was to build the perfect female sex robot. The day he hired Michael was the only day he offered any kind of explanation for his quest. He bit down on his pipe and muttered, “Every damn woman in real life has disappointed me in some way...so I’m going to build one to my specifications.”
Mark didn’t understand any of the science involved in his boss’ work.. He saw him as a bit eccentric, but what the hell....the work wasn’t that challenging; he spent his days running errands, fetching supplies, running royalty checks to the bank, and the like.
He usually got to spend several hours each day assisting around the lab with menial tasks, and got to watch his boss at work. His creations certainly were beautiful, and appeared lifelike, he had to admit. Some looked like celebrities, while others were beauties of Magnuson’s own devising.
There was just one problem; none of them really worked. Oh, some managed to mimic the basic human sex act quite nicely; but they always seemed to lack a real spark of passion; call it creativity, imagination, unpredictability; humanity; Magnuson wanted his robot to embody all these traits, while at the same time possessing an unquenchable thirst for sex.
“I’m trying something new,” Magnuson told his employee one morning, several months before the incident that changed their lives forever. “As much as I’m a believer in robotics, I just don’t think the capacity is there yet to create a true human robot without the human element.”
“Huh?” a sleepy Mark mumbled. He had been partying very late the night before.
Magnuson sighed. “I’m talking about what you might call a cyborg, Mark. A merging of man -- or woman -- and machine. In other words, a human brain animating a robotic body.”
Mark’s head was beginning to clear. He asked, “So...if you can do this...what’s to make her act the way you want her to act?”
Magnuson’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “A spark of life! Maybe there’s hope for you yet, my boy! Anyway, it’s all a matter of programming...the same computer that controls the robot’s functions will also interface with her brain, and, to a large degree, stimulate and control her desires and responses. Of course, I’ll need a donor brain, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
“Interesting,” Mark said, not really understanding. “Well, good luck boss.”
Mark had forgotten all about that conversation the morning the men broke into the lab. This wasn’t supposed to happen...Magnuson had all kinds of security gizmos...but the thugs were there...and they were there to get what they wanted. Unfortunately, Magnuson didn’t have it.
The two men trained their AK-47s at Magnuson and McCracken. “We hear you’ve got something really valuable in here....we want it, and right now,” the first one demanded.
“This is preposterous!” Magnuson cried.
Mark, foolishly, decided to play the hero. What was he doing leaping
at two men armed with submachine guns? He was quickly cut down in a hail
As the two intruders searched the lab, Magnuson cradled his dying assistant in his arms. “Oh, God, no!” he cried. He could tell Mark was minutes from bleeding to death and no conventional medicine could save his life. Magnuson was barely aware that hearing one of the intruders exclaim, “Nothin’ but a bunch of fuckin’ dolls! Let’s get the hell out of here!”
Despite the gravity of the situation, Magnuson managed a hint of a smile. Yes, he thought to himself a bunch of fucking dolls, indeed. Now, as he carried Mark to a gurney, he knew what he had to do to save his life.
Mark remembered leaping toward the intruder; the flash of gunfire; the searing pain; and then blackness.
How long had he been out? Where was he? Was he dead? He remembered a void...then a feeling as if he was being ripped from his body.
Now, he didn’t feel...didn’t feel anything at all...no pain, nothing at all. He realized he couldn’t move, speak, or even open his eyes. Now he was gripped by a real terror! Had he survived the shooting, only to end up blind, and paralyzed? Was he in the hospital? What the hell was going on?
Suddenly, he heard Magnuson’s voice. “Mark, Mark, can you hear me? God, I hope you can. I hope you can hear me. And I hope you can understand what I’ve done to you. I have saved your life, in the only way possible...but you may be unable to forgive me for it.” Now, he found he could open his eyes, and see his boss; though he was otherwise still paralyzed.
God, he must have been badly hurt! He knew it was Magnuson talking to him; but the words made no sense! What the hell did he mean about being unable to forgive him for saving his life? Suddenly, he began to put two and two together....oh, God no, he thought....he couldn’t have! The bastard couldn’t have!
“Mark, you may have guessed by now, that I transferred your brain into the latest robot I was working on. So you’re now female, and a robot, besides, but you’re alive! You’re alive!” The words echoed in his head; he was alive; maybe he could deal with things somehow; maybe Magnuson could remodel this body into a male form?
“Now Mark, I’m going to activate you with this control. Don’t try any hasty motions; it’s probably going to take you a little while to get used to this body.”
Magnuson held what looked like a television remote in his hand. Mark couldn’t believe that this piece of electronics now controlled his ability to move and speak. How odd it seemed; odder still, that the idea seemed to be carrying him toward some form of sexual arousal! His boss punched a sequence of buttons; suddenly, Mark could move again.
He tentatively turned his head from side to side; lifted one arm and then the other; then muttered in a sultry, feminine voice he couldn’t yet accept as his own, “My God, it’s true.” He took one tentative step forward, then another; despite never having walked on three-inch stiletto heels in his former life, he found he could now navigate on them quite easily.
He was wearing a shiny silver spandex halter top and matching shorts; his high-heeled pumps were also of that shimmering color. “Where’d you come up with this body, boss? One of your wet dreams?” Then he glanced in the full length-mirror. “Oh God!” he -- or from here on, we will say she -- cried out. “I’m a copy of that woman from that TV show, right?.”
Magnuson nodded. “Right.” He took a deep breath. “How do you...feel....Mark?”
Mark laughed. “How do I feel? Well, that’s a good one...I feel strange, certainly...but good, in a way, very good. Incredibly energetic...and incredibly horny.” What was troubling to Mark was that her new body was filling her brain with cravings for male companionship.
“Sit down, please,” Magnuson said, beckoning to a small work table with a couple of chairs by it. “Let me tell you more about your new body.”
Mark listened in amazement as her boss explained that her new body contained no flesh or bone, or organic materials, outside of her brain. It was all plastic, latex, titanium and microprocessors. Her brain would be kept alive and nourished by a rudimentary pulmonary-digestive system; she would breathe, could eat, though her body would simply pass out most of what it took in; all the nutrients needed to keep her brain alive could come through a glass of Ensure and a multi-vitamin daily.
“I deliberately made the body as low-maintenance as I could,” he said with a grin. “But that’s as far as your brain is concerned. As for your robot body, it will require a daily battery recharge. There’s a contact point inside your right ankle; it will require a minimum four-hour charge in every 24 hours.” He showed her the charger; it was a small, self-contained unit that strapped around the leg sort of like an ankle weight. “While you’re charging, you’ll be in a state of sort of suspended animation, unable to move or speak. Of course, the control can freeze you at any time, as well.”
Magnuson went on to tell her about some of the superior features of her robotic body; she would have inexhaustible energy and sex drive; her senses were far more acute than a human’s; she was impervious to disease, or most injury. Her skin couldn’t easily be cut or punctured. “A gunshot at point-blank range would do a lot of damage, though, so don’t try playing hero again,” Magnuson said.
“All very interesting, boss,” Mark said. “And not that I’m not impressed with your scientific wizardry, I am, but is there any way to put my brain back in a human body again?”
“No, I’m afraid the process is irreversible.”
Mark sighed, and fought back a desire to wrap her arms around her boss and seek a way to have him penetrate her as quickly as possible. “O-K, then. How about converting this body to a male form?”
“That I might be able to do, but it’s going to take some time...we’re probably talking months. In the meantime, I suggest that you continue to work as my assistant. We’ll call you.....Ashley....Ashley Stevens.”
Mark--or Ashley raised her thin, perfectly arched eyebrows. “Any significance to that name?”
“My first Playboy bunny....I met her...and took her home...almost 25 years ago.”
“O-K,” Ashley said. “Whatever makes you happy.”
Things went along uneventfully for about a month. Ashley acquired a female wardrobe (hoping she wouldn’t need it for too long) learned how to hook up her battery charger each night, and began trying to adapt to her new robotic life. She continued as Magnuson’s errand runner and assistant; but found it increasingly hard to concentrate on even simple tasks due to libido that was surging through her mind and body.
“You got do something about this, boss, or I’m going to start raping guys or something.,” she pleased.
“Patience, Ashley, patience,” he said and bit down on his pipe.
“Easy for you to say,” Ashley thought. You haven’t been shot and had your brain removed from your body and placed in an automated love doll!
On the way home that night, Ashley stopped at an adult bookstore. She had frequented this place as a male from time to time, but had never seen a woman in there; but she knew what she needed was behind the counter inside.
She walked out minutes later, a small package under her arm. That night, she had placed the batteries into the vibrator, and carefully inserted it into her artificial vagina for the first time. She had tried mightily to deny the needs of her new sex; but the craving was just too strong.
The feeling of having something inside of her was strange and wonderful. She couldn’t believe the sensitivity of the artificial nerves down there; suddenly, waves of a climax were breaking over her, and she found herself panting for the first time since she had awakened in this body. The orgasm left her feeling spent, exhilarated, embarrassed, overjoyed. She reached for the vibrator, and started the process all over again. It was almost 3 a.m. by the time she reluctantly put the vibrator aside and strapped on the recharger.
The next morning, when Ashley entered the lab, she had a feeling that something was wrong; perhaps her enhanced senses could detect trouble? “Morning, boss!” she called cheerily. “Any progress yet?” There was no response.
A moment later, she found Magnuson, barely conscious, slumped over a work table. “Ashley,” he gasped. “My heart...call an ambulance.”
The next hours were a blur, although if she had so wished, Ashley realized later she could recall them in perfect detail. All that remained in her mind was the scene in the waiting area when a grim-faced doctor had come walking out towards her. “Miss? I have some bad news about you’re boss. We weren’t able to save him.”
“Oh my God!” Ashley had cried, as much for herself as her boss; for she realized that she was now imprisoned in this female robotic form for life.
Ashley didn’t leave her apartment for several days. It took her quite a while to absorb all that had happened to her; and to try to formulate a plan for her next steps. Although her needs were few, it seemed obvious that she would have to have money; she would have to find a job! But how, with no work history? Magnuson had helped her establish a legal “identity” with a social security number and a few other basics...but they hadn’t gone beyond that.
The next day, Ashley found a job, waitressing. It was for an early shift; it meant coming in at 5 a.m. and leaving at noon; that was no problem., as her body no longer required sleep; the battery charge could easily be done at any time. Staying on her feet, carrying trays of heavy food for hours was no problem, as her robot body could not be exhausted.
What was a problem were the meager wages, and the stingy tips. “This job sucks,” Ashley told herself one morning about a month later. When the cook, a grizzled character tired to grope her, she punched him in the face, smashing one of his eye sockets; fortunately, he didn’t lose his sight, and each agreed not to sue the other.
Ashley’s job hunt over the next three weeks was fruitless. The only prospective employers who seemed to be interested in her didn’t seem to be focused in what she could bring to the workplace...it was clear their minds were on extra-curricular sorts of activities.
At her apartment that night, Ashley thought about the characters who had leered at her in interview after interview and muttered to herself, “I’ll be damned if I’ll give it away,” as she slipped the vibrator into her moist pussy. If it had been a cartoon, a light bulb would have gone off over her head at that point.
Now she knew what she would do.
She would become a prostitute.
It seemed like a crazy idea; but it also made perfect sense.
“The money? Sure to be better than anything else I can get! This body? Sure to get plenty of customers! It’s a cash-only business! Plus, it should help relieve these damn urges...better than the vibrator! And I can’t get a sexually-transmitted disease...it makes a crazy kind of sense!” she told herself.
This would be a way to put away some real money. And with money, there would be freedom and possibilities. Find a scientist, someone as smart as Magnuson. Have him (or her) figure out how this body worked, how to keep it running, how to remold it into a male form. But all that would be down the road.
That afternoon, Ashley went shopping for what would be “career wear”..her list was simple: anything spandex, latex, leather; anything tight, short or shiny.
Ashley had mastered the basics of makeup by this time, but now worked on a new, more intense look. She spent that evening driving the areas of town where the streetwalkers worked; the next night, she would join them.
She wore fishnet stockings, a black leather mini-skirt, and a low-cut red silk blouse. She parked her car, looked for an empty corner, and tried to strike a pose that she hoped conveyed that she was available.
The first car stopped within half an hour. It was a new BMW, and the guy wore an expensive looking suit. Ashley couldn’t think of anything more original to say than, “Looking for a good time, mister?” as she leaned into the car window. But it worked. She tried to sound as confident as she could when she told him. “It’s a hundred bucks an hour, and the meter starts now.”
He was fairly quiet as they drove to a nearby motel and he rented a room. He introduced himself as -- of all names -- Mark. “This is too weird,” Ashley thought.
It was the kind of hotel that seemed to attract businessmen and families on a budget. Respectable, but nothing fancy. As Mark closed the door to the clean, simply-furnished room, Ashley thought she felt her artificial heart beating more rapidly. “Just my imagination,” she told herself.
She smiled, and reached out to him. Wrapping her arms around his neck. She began showering him with hungry kisses, which he quickly returned, his tongue rapidly probing her mouth. When she was able to break away, Ashley dropped to her knees, unbuckled his belt, and unzipped his pants.
For the first time as a female robot, she felt a warm, hard dick. She wrapped her long, slim fingers around his manhood and then took it into her mouth. She began to suck it, and saw his complexion grow a bit pale while a look of incredible pleasure spread over his face.
It seemed to be happening too quickly, for he stopped her at this point, and signaled for her to stand up. He began unbuttoning her blouse; he did the same for his shirt. Soon, Ashley’s leather skirt was dropping to the floor, revealing a pair of very wet panties beneath.
She groaned with ecstasy as his hands cupped her breasts. She began to moan as he took one rock-hard nipple, then the other into his mouth and began to suck greedily. The waves of pleasure shooting through her told her that this was what she had been programmed for; this was her true purpose.
Soon, they were on the bed, Mark on top of her. He entered her juicy love nest. As thrust mounted onto thrust, Ashley felt herself losing control; for one scary moment, thought she might be suffering some kind of electronic overload; but soon realized it was just an orgasm....Just an orgasm? It was like no pleasure she had ever experienced in her life.
Ashley was ready to go again almost right away, but poor Mark, only being a man, and human besides, needed a longer recovery time. The second time turned out to be just as profitable -- and even more pleasurable -- than the first.
When she looked back later, Ashley decided that must have been the moment when her plans changed. Yes, she would still seek a scientist who could keep her body running smoothly....but she realized this was her body now...and forever...and it would do just fine, thank you.
Who knows, maybe she would find a nice guy and settle down someday. He’d have to be open-minded enough to accept a wife who was an ex-hooker and a robot, though. And damn horny, to boot. No, this would be her life now.
And it would do just fine, thank you.