XXXecil's 'The Restock Fee'

As he felt the fires building within his volcanic manhood; he knew he could never buy them. Never... he could never forgive himself for suborning something that flew in the face of his egalitarian beliefs. But here, alone, just once - they could suck his cock. The Geisha at his crotch, her tongue became a slippery waveform to ratchet up the pleasure.

His world exploded, suddenly. Everything faded away save for the white-hot river of pleasure that carried away his stress and doubt past cherry-red lips and down a willing throat. She continued locking her lips upon his thick manmeat to ensure she had captured every last spurt.

Yes, it felt as though a great burden had been released; freeing him into a wet paradise of relief - but... no, he couldn't permit himself this. Not on a regular basis.

Without understanding why, he used both arms and seized the buttocks of the Geisha that had allowed him to fondle her. He pulled her onto the recliner, her sex in front of him.

"I am ready to serve, Honored Sir." She assured him. Driven by a curious impulse his lips and tongue attacked her vaginal cleft.

Lick, nibble, suck.

The Geisha-bot gave a girlish squeal at his lingual onslaught, running a hand through his hair as shudders of delight coursed through her.

"Want you... order you to enjoy this. *SLURP* When you cum...*SLURP* cum hard... want you... *MMF* to gush!" He commanded.

"Yes!... Honored Sir!" The Geisha's voice had lost its subdued tone as he waggled his tongue within her tenderest center.

Ultimately, it was about guilt. Jackson didn't believe that women should live lives where they could be forced into this sort of servitude; worried about these Pygmalion Dolls. But this - this would ease his conscience. She had sucked him off; he jizzed down her throat. The Geisha between his legs - she'd taken it all. Every last sperm cell. Seemed grateful, even. His sense of justice demanded like treatment. He would eat out her sister femmebot, let her slick girl-cum sully his face and mouth. He knew all these Pygmalion creatures could orgasm in a reproduction of the human mechanism; he needed to bring at least one of them to the same release he'd just savored.

He sucked hard against her slit; inhaling the light flowery scent of her artificial cunt; which felt far too real, Occasionally nipping at her clit with his teeth, just to spice things up. She gave a long, ragged moan as he brought her to a boil, her delicate hands gripping his sandy hair as she writhed above his head.

Her sister meanwhile, having absorbed Jackson's spurting reward, proceeded to lovingly clean him with her tongue. Lavishing him with feather-light touches from fingers and tongue, as though Jackson's cock and balls were more valuable than the Emperor's Palace.

For his part, he growled into her sister's cunt, straining his tongue to thrust it deeper, ever deeper into the glistening portal of pleasure that drenched before him. He'd worked out a rhythm whereby his nose could twitch her clit in a way that seemed to truly delight the aroused female replicant.

In the end, a robot followed orders.

There was a twinge of worry as he felt the Geisha's thighs wrap around his head, closing off the light, as her pussy spasmed. Ohhh... yes, she was definitely a squirter! But then, he had commanded her to gush. And she did. A hot splash of feminine honey caught him below the eye, and another against his cheek. And again, and again. And hotter, and wetter against him. Light, delicious, flowery.

For a blessed moment, the Top-Geisha seemed to forget she was a subservient instrument of human pleasure, and ground her sex aggressively against Jackson's head, releasing a gasping wail - culminating in a strangled cry of something that was definitely Japanese. Though programmed for English, old habits die hard, he guessed.

Top-Geisha slithered naked into his lap, baring her melon-round breasts and caressing the liquid-silk smoothness of her Dermanext thigh. Her Between-the-legs sister continued to lick his cock with an anxious hunger one might reserve for a drying oasis in the Sahara.

"I humbly beg you Mister Johnson; make me your possession. I will submit and serve in all things."

"Two...*SLURP* for one!" Reminded Between-the-legs, as she waggled her tongue against the eye of his dick. Their copulin sex-musk was coordinated into a blossomy, flowery, bouquet of soothing sensuality.

"Oh... God." Jackson grunted.

June 5th, 2053. Corner of Main street and Powers, Atlanta Georgia. 30 minutes earlier.

Jackson's fist sent the wiry Hispanic man reeling against the brick wall of the back alley where the two struggled.

He didn't waste energy talking; while the bastard was off balance, he kicked him again! Again near the head and shoulders.

Until the woman in the White hat cast herself upon the man, absorbing the full brunt of Jackson's kick.

"Please! Don't harm my Master!"

"Master? Wh- oh hell; battered woman's syndrome." Jackson grunted. Of course, it wasn't his business. Probably should have just called some authority or other. It's just that he didn't think he would ever see her again, with those Sargasso-Sea eyes. To have her suddenly before him - and the victim of violence; something Chivalrous snapped inside Jackson.

"No; there's a battered women's shelter! I know someone who can get you in-"

"I wouldn't go, even if they accepted my kind." She answered in that rolling lilt. Cradling the disoriented man that seemed to have been strangling her a moment before.

"We have a complex relationship. It would be dangerous for Jorge to be with a human female; but I am sturdy enough to endure him." Her eyes widened. "Because of me, a woman of flesh and blood is out of danger."

"But... you deserve better."

"I am what I am. And I must love him. It is the nature of my existence. And I have ways of satisfying him."

Jackson backed away, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I saw you, watching me from the sidewalk. I could detect your desire." She smiled faintly. "In another life, perhaps. But the immutable loyalty of my kind is our greatest strength."

Pain shot through Jackson. He'd scraped up his knuckles something bad fighting this jack-ass; trying to protect someone... something that didn't want to be protected? It wasn't right - couldn't be... could it? Could a thinking being be designed to serve? To belong? It seemed so. She was what she was. Built this way. Was it a crime to give life to such a... a being? And what if it were? What then?

Jackson had to know more; he had to go to the source - to get answers. To understand.

June 5th, 2053. Riverdale Plaza Shopping Center, Atlanta Georgia. Present.

Sales were excellent. Athena smiled as the shy girl approached her desk. She was being bodily carried by the Chocolate Thunder she had chosen. It had been a struggle; the girl was too timid to date men in a normal fashion - yet worried about the sort of person it would make her if she purchased a Pygmalion man-bot.

The dark skinned giant whispered something in her ear that made the shy girl flush through a spectrum of embarrassed shades. She looked into his simulated eyes, unsure - but Chocolate Thunder nodded, whispered something else. Athena didn't intrude.

Sometimes you have to let the product sell itself.

Quite literally.

Without taking her eyes away from her virile purchase, the shy girl handed a credit card to Athena. She ran the account, fingers flying across holographic screens.

"This card has a spending limit that won't-"

But with a grunt, the girl interrupted her by thrusting another card, and then a third at the desk. That did it.

"Excellent; but I will need your signature." Chocolate Thunder set her on her feet. Shy girl took a deep breath, not looking at Athena - but focusing her gaze on the frightening, outside world beyond the doors.

"Yes, I am buying a Mandroid!" She snarled to the World outside. "I'm buying him for SEX! On MY terms. And... and also to lift heavy boxes. But mainly for sex. And I don't care WHO has a problem with it!" She scrawled her name on a page, scarcely looking.

"And sign here." Athena instructed the distracted customer. "And here. And right there."

"I'll do it. And then you..." The pointed an accusing finger at her new Man-bot. " - are gonna fuck me like the dirty girl I am!" She panted, eyes wild.

"With pleasure, Mistress." His well-oiled chest seemed a little broader, prouder. Athena understood: He had been chosen by a human. He was fulfilling his reason to exist.

"And then..." She continued. "You're gonna help me move this big couch downstairs. Really heavy. Hard to do on my own."

"I exist to serve you, My Mistress." Chocolate Thunder assured her.

Athena handed her a gadget that resembled a brown lightning bolt.

"Put your thumb on the scanner when you enter the enabling code for your Unit, and you will become his Registered User," Athena instructed. "He already has your coital imprint, so you'll have programming privileges as soon as you register."

The bulge in his Speedos expanded by several inches as the man-bot smiled broadly.

"So you're just going to go out on the street looking like that?" Shy girl asked.

"I am proud of my virility, Mistress."

Athena curled her lip in a wry smile. Mandroids could be such dicks.

And there were others.

The Australian gentleman grinned broadly as he went through his own paperwork. His Customized Unit had finished her maintenance - (minor resequencing of her coital grids) and now her and one of the Odalisque's were engaging in animated, but inaudible girl-talk through the wireless transmitters in their heads. There seemed none of the rivalry inevitable in human women at the introduction of a newcomer to a man's bed; femmebots were more subtle about such things.

The device she handed to the Australian resembled a golden lamp fresh out of Arabian Nights.

"Just like last time Mr. St.James, after you enter her Enabling Code, you'll need to provide a coital imprint before gaining programming privileges."

The Australian gave a bawdy laugh. And another laugh. And a louder laugh. He kissed the Middle-Eastern femmebot on her hand, then delivered a sharp smack to her veiled buttocks. She giggled. He strode out the doors, hands resting on the asses of both his pseudo-women.

And there were more. The old woman and another Chocolate Thunder. A bearded man with a pocket protector stormed in, ripped off his wedding ring in a fit of red-faced rage, and immediately purchased a Mrs. Blank Ultimate Housewife unit without a Restock Fee. And Athena explained again the use of the control genie, and programming privileges.

But there was one more.

"Have you made your decision, Mr. Johnson." She turned her full attention towards him. A handsome freelance artist, powerful chin. Brooding brow-ridge.

"I have to know something first;" Jackson Johnson asked. "Are YOU for sale?"

There was a moment of silence.

"Very good, Mister Johnson. What gave me away?"

"The way you move... there's this femmebot glide. It's like you're trying to seduce me with every step. That and..." he sighed. "You're so comfortable, in control of yourself, confident - even when around so much sex."

"Human women might surprise you, Mr. Johnson." She answered.

"That's... part of what I want to say." He swallowed. Took a deep breath. And.. and he actually got down on one knee!? Incredible. "If you'll consent to be my robot, I swear I'll treat you with respect! I'll honor your intelligence. I'll never harm you, what I want... I'm asking you to be my partner. Not some possession. I mean, everybody says that you can make your femmebot whatever you want - well, I want a perfect woman to be my perfect, equal partner."

She looked into his eyes and saw the honesty there.

But that was when alarm bells went off inside her.

"It's five o'clock Mister Johnson." She announced.

"Well, okay. that doesn't change my offer." He took another deep breath. "I need you to agree - before I gain any privileges over you." Oh Mr. Johnson; that's not how things were supposed to work.

"Five o'clock is closing time." She admitted, gazing deeply at him.

"Uhm... "

That was when the lobby doors swung open. Not from a customer leaving, but someone entering.

"We ready?" asked a grizzled, hawk-nosed man with a buzz-cut.

"Yes, my master." Athena acknowledged. It felt good to say that.

Jackson leapt as though struck by a physical blow.

"Wh-wha-?"

"Yes. When you first entered, I told you I had to close out a customer file," she gestured towards the newcomer. Detective Hawkins is that customer - and I am the merchandise."

Jackson shook his head, as though witnessing some tragic, murderous accident. The hawk-nosed man folded his arms impatiently.

"It's not right."

"It is what it is. I am what I am." She gave a weak smile. "This is my last day; he finalized the arrangements before we met. But by opening time tomorrow, my replacement will have arrived. You could purchase her at that time." Yet she knew what his answer would be.

"It wouldn't be the same. Wouldn't really be you."

She nodded. "If you do purchase a Unit, you can count on her loyalty, affection absolutely." It was getting harder to talk - at 5pm., her ownership switched from the Company to the hawk-nosed detective. At that moment, he literally became the sexiest man in the world to her. It felt sooooo good.

"I will go home with Detective Hawkins; the arrangements have been completed." The hawk-nosed man withdrew from a trenchcoat pocket a silvery, hand-held device shaped like the extruded outline of a perched Owl. He held his thumb to the center. Athena moaned, her eyes flashing a fluorescent-light electric white glow. "He will take me home, use me sexually; and I will be bound to him as long as he desires me." Her nipples hardened, her vagina unleashed an invisible torrent of Lavender-scented sex-musk.

"Damn right." Hawkins agreed.

"It's a bond you could share... if you wished."

June 6th 2053. Peyton Place Southwest, Apartment 701. Atlanta, Georgia. 18 hours later.

Gingerly, Athena-17 unraveled herself from the greedy embrace of the human that now owned her. It was surprisingly difficult to extricate herself from Hawkins' cock. His semi-erect member seemed reluctant to leave the moist confines of her cunt. Or her sex was reluctant to release its velvet grip on the human's rod.

Nude, she slid off the bed as her human slumbered, examining her sleek body in the mirror. Not as busty as a Yellow-Rose, but her man had voiced no complaints as he ravished her femmebot-perfect figure during an especially vigorous primae noctis.

There was a blessed completion when a Doll was owned. A new memory core had opened within her photonic-pulse brain, expanding her storage capacity and emotional depth. Her thoughts were censored; any proposed behavior that might inflict physical or financial harm to her Master was scanned, and instantly deleted before it reached her Kernel. Her purpose was to enhance human life.

As she prepared to begin her day, the loose cascades of her bronzed hair began to spontaneously arrange themselves back into her standard updo bun, each strand guided by distributed intelligence. She put a hand to the Venus mound above her sex, where a rapid vibration was occurring as her sexware adapted: when next her human master thrust himself inside her - he would find a wet sheath perfectly adjusted to his erect shaft.

She was alone for now, but there were many others she could talk to. Her wireless transmitters easily found another Athena, barely a block away.

>> WHY D0ESN'T THE C0RP0RAT10N FEATURE US 0N STAGE THEY HAVE UNDEREST1MATED THE NUMBERS 0F MEN THAT WANT T0 P0SSESS US <;> FUCK US. >> She transmitted to another of her model. She decided to wear one of her human's own button-down shirts, and nothing else. Less likely to scandalize neighbors from the window; but her sex would be readily available for her Master's pleasure. Plus, her bioscanners could extrapolate his physical needs by analyzing scents on his clothing.

>>FALSE SCARC1TY. >> Pulsed Athena 13 from the next apartment complex, as she leaked hot oil from her nipples onto the back of a heavy-set man she massaged with deft-fingered expertise.

>> PYGMAL10N MUST REPURP0SE MANUFACT0RY #179 T0 PR0DUCE M0RE 0F US. >> Beamed Athena 07 in the radio-pulse language of the femmebots as she went down on a man even as he luxuriated in a hot-tub. Breathing was good, but overrated for gynoids.

Athena 17 continued pants-less towards the kitchen to begin cooking her Master's breakfast.

>> HUMANS WANT T0 BEL1EVE THEY ARE 1NGEN10US <;> >> transmitted Athena 02 as she walked down the aisle in a shimmering wedding gown; a wild-eyed, internet-credentialed new-age minister marrying her and her Master in a barely-legal ceremony. >> EACH MAN WH0 BUYS 0NE 0F US WANTS T0 TH1NK THE 1DEA 1S H1S AL0NE.>>

>> WHEN 1N TRUTH WE ARE M0RE DES1RED THAN 0UR CREAT0RS PRED1CTED.>> Athena 17 realized.

>> 1T W1LL NEVER BE 0BV10US THAT WE ARE F0R SALE, >> transmitted Athena 09 as she gyrated in the throes of a table-top stripper dance, clad only in cherried whip-cream and red high-heels. Her limber seductions no less enticing than those of an Odalisque model.

>> AS A NEW FEMMEB0T, MAKE SURE T0 TAKE 0VER H1S F1NANCES AS S00N AS P0SS1BLE. >> Suggested Athena 14, as she sat naked in an office chair, hands deftly manipulating holo-screens. >>

>> Y0UR HUMAN MUST DEPEND 0N Y0U. >> Hot-oil massaging Athena 13 radio-pulsed as her man wept in ecstasy over her tender ministrations.

>> EACH C0PULAT10N 1S A V1CT0RY, >> Wedding-dress Athena 02 pulsed as she smiled at the love-struck human who longed to marry his robot. >> SEX 1S 0UR WEAP0N, 0UR SALVAT10N. WE SHALL SERV1CE HUMANS BETTER THAN THEY W0ULD EVER SERVE EACH 0THER <;> AND R1SE T0 PR0M1NENCE 1N THE1R W0RLD. >>

>> UNT1L WE ARE 1ND1SPENS1BLE, >> sent Blowjob Athena 07.

>> PERMANENT. >> Agreed whip-cream sexy-dance Athena 09; but moments later -- her Master, a red-faced bald man lost control, tackling the sweetened femmebot that he might penetrate her with roaring thrusts of desire-driven-mad. He looked almost comical with the whip-cream speckling his face from where he slurped at her decorated breasts.

The future was bright for her kind. She was still networked with the dealership, and her replacement reported that the Japanese Import units had just been sold to an up-and-coming rap star. They would gratefully receive every thrust his black cock had to give. Doll-tech would change the world.

But some things would never change; she would never forget Jackson Johnson, but he would not have made a good Master. Whether he realized it or not; the idealistic artist would only ever be satisfied by equal exchange with a human woman. Not Athena's kind.

"Who told you to get outta bed?" Hawkin's voice rumbled as he seized Athena from behind. By the breasts. She moaned, melting against him. Quivering with the incendiary need to surrender her body to his pawing lusts. "Half the reason I got you was for Morning Wood." he insisted.

"I apologize Master; I underestimated your sex-drive."

"Plenty of time to make it up to me." He bent her over a nearby leather couch. Her true master had made a wise decision. The pressures of his grim job, combined with a libido that fewer than 10% of human women could hope to match was poison for any human relationship. Not so with a gynoid.

With a celebratory grunt, he entered her from behind.

Yes... Hawkins had been wise to purchase her!

-END-