Do Androids Dream of Murder?

The woman is gorgeous; perfectly put together. Looking at her, you can believe someone made her in a computer.

Since AI improved in leaps and bounds, and android manufacture improved exponentially, many people are relying on androids for all sorts of things. Including sex. It's less messy. Lower risk of pregnancy, disease, infidelity.

Her long slim legs flick out of the rumpled bed, their shape accentuated by her toes delicately pointed. She's aware, always, that she's on display. Watched every moment. A product being judged at all times. She's known this as long as she can remember. Perched there, under his gaze, she adjusts her stockings and scoops up her discarded silk shirt.

She glances over her shoulder at the man in the bed. A lazy smile spreads across his face.

I wonder if he loves me. She regards him with cold eyes. I wonder if anyone can love me. Do I love him? Can I?

These thoughts whir around her head behind the carefully arranged pout. Her long graceful neck just so.

Can I feel anything at all? It's an empty thought. It rattles. She can't remember ever feeling anything. Even when they are inside her, she feels nothing, no connection. As empty as ever. Emptier, maybe.

Checking her reflection in the ensuite mirror, she takes a moment to fix her make up. It's barely smudged. There's a pair of nail scissors on the sink. She twirls them in her fingers very fast, over and over, watching them glint under the bathroom light. Brings the point to the pale skin on the inside of her wrist, where she hesitates.

No.

A few light steps back into the bedroom. The man is still in the bed, his fingers interlocked behind his head.

She finishes dressing mechanically, each motion spare and deliberate. Like a dance. Almost a striptease in reverse, only more efficient.

How funny. The scissors are still in her hand. She leans down, as if to kiss him goodbye, and plunges the blade into his eye. It sparks, and she stabs him again and again and again. She drops them, her breathing barely quickened. There's no blood.

She walks away, still feeling nothing at all.

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Word count (excluding note): 366

Submitted on 26th February at 20:40

Quick Author's Note

First, and most importantly: thank you for reading!

Leave me a link to your own sex robot story, if I haven't already seen it! If you're joining me on this "story every day" madne adventure, I'd love to see what you come up with for today.

My Challenge:

I first wrote about it here, but here is the TL;DR version 👇

A Prompt and a CHALLENGE - February

Write me a story about a sex robot

Make it rude, make it clever, make me squirm (you know I hate erotica). Explore themes of sexuality, consent and psychology, have a message and paint it in metallic red lipgloss that won't smudge.

Submit to Filthy, Sci Fi, or fiction

Word limit the same as the others - 300-366!

Link to it in the comments

Closing date is the 28th

Judging on the 29th

$10 to the winner and $5 to a runner up

You can leave your link in the comments here, or on the February prompts post. Either way, I will see it!

If you enjoyed this story, the best compliment you can give me is to share it, or read another. See below for my recommendation 😁

Pay no attention to the writer behind the curtain: Shockingly, I've never actually read Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? Sorry. It inspired the title. This is my 3rd sex robot story. Here's my last one.

A Year of Stories: I'm writing a story every day this year. This one makes a 57 day streak. You can find all of them in my Index post. It's also pinned to the top of my profile.

Thank you

Thank you again! I do my best to reciprocate all reads. Please do leave a comment, and I'll pop over and read one of yours as soon as I can.