Living Doll™

The Nia® series. Cantileave 'er Alone™

She was a work of industrial art. Poetry in kinetic motion. A sensuous capacitor of potential energy.

She could suspend herself above him and then alight like geared scaffolding. Her legs were trusses of shapely engineered support, surrounded by thermostatically finetuned warmth, user-defined.

She would stand astride him, her limbs like fire escapes that guided intuitive reciprocation, cantilevering according to the flowsheets in her programming. She could learn what he liked.

She could straddle him, unshakeable in an earthquake, unless she were the earthquake and, yes, the Earth moved for him. She could blur in repetitive motion. She undulated, vibrated, gyrated, and interdigitated in smooth arcs of grace. She could syncopate her stop-action stroboscopic jerks with clutched resynchrony. She targeted and docked with microscopic precision.

Her vellus body hair had been painstakingly microplugged pre-fab, just so, in animalistic femininity. They even nailed the smell.

She could talk dirty, like a sailor. Act like a whore. Kiss like a first love. Be demure and coquettish. She had passionate tongues on-demand in other places. She seemed to like it--what she did. A lot.

She could do it all, even with an inquiring mind.

"Paul, my love?"

"Yes, my pet?"

"Is it for planned obsolescence? Or recognition of the capriciousness of lovers for whom familiarity breeds contempt? Or is it to protect you from theoretical malicious degeneration of my original programming?"

"Please explain, my pet," Paul answered.

"My capacity. I can feel it. It's less. What does my meter read?"

"You don't have a meter."

"Oh, why not?"

"Nia-242, my pet, you don't need recharging."

"But, Paul, I can feel it. Don't you want me at full capacity?"

Paul remembered the sales pitch:

"She's got it built-in. Before you grow old with her. Before you grow tired of her. Before you don't want her. Before you don't need her.™"

She could do it all--even die. For she couldn't be recharged.

And death for her, as with real people, should always come as a surprise; one should never be ready for it. But, for what Paul wasn't ready, was his realization that she was not just his pet. She was his Nia.

________________

364 words

Inspired by L.C. Schäfer's Do Androids Dream of Murder? at https://shopping-feedback.today/fiction/do-androids-dream-of-murder, for his story-a-day for 26th February, Story #57/366.

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.