tagSci-Fi & FantasyFun at the Isla Truqué

Fun at the Isla Truqué


The Chime was like a Tibetan singing bowl. I opened my eyes and looked around the still darkened room. Eastern light was just beginning to filter through the gauzy curtains of the suite. The coffee maker gurgled a final spit of heated water through Découverte and the rich smell filled my nose, blending perfectly with the light scented Caribbean breeze wafting in from the veranda. Rolling off the edge of the bed, I pulled on a linen robe and walked over to the kitchen area. O'k, I know there is no-one here, but even on vacation, I still feel a little awkward walking about naked.

"Hello, what is this?" I said to myself. A small folded card had been left by the coffee maker.

'Good Morning, Mr. Strand,' it said. 'We hope you slept well on your arrival night here at the Isla Truqué Resort.'

The card continued, "Your bath has been drawn and fresh clothes placed in the closet. Your date will be meeting you for breakfast in a private dining room at the La Bonne Nourriture at exactly 8 AM. You and your guest have the complete use of the island and all of it's facilities. Enjoy your morning and the rest of the day.

'Well, that's considerate,' I thought as I recalled the enormous fee for this vacation. This resort was one of a kind, considered one of the most luxurious in the world and it had very unique feature. Everyone here is an automaton. The 'date' the card referred to was a woman engineered to meet my very exacting specifications, and I was very specific. I knew my date would be five foot, seven inches tall, with pale skin, shoulder-length auburn hair and a smattering of freckles on the bridge of her nose and across her shoulders. She would appear to be about my age, very healthy with exceptional muscle tone. Of course, her breasts would be ample, but not too much and not with that fake, poked-out look. No, my artificial woman was not going to look fake.

And, I knew her name was Helen.

I took my mug to the bath and settled into 105 degree scented water to plan my day. I was told anything, literally anything I desired could be done with my new woman, Helen.


"The Oleanders here are lovely, don't you think?" I asked.

Helen started and turned from the window toward me.

"Hello, Helen. I am Hank Strand," I said, holding out my hand. "It is wonderful to meet you."

"It is nice to meet you too, Hank Strand, " she smiled, a little shyly, as she extended her hand.

I took her hand kissed it as I watched her eyes. Her irises fluttered in and out and her cheeks blushed just a bit. There was even a little red in the skin on her chest just above her sun dress. Very human. Very realistic. Man, those automation guys are good.

"We're going to have a great day, I think, so why don't we enjoy some food and get to know each other," I said as I held her chair out for her.

The table had been set for us with a board of smoked salmon, creamed cheese, capers and red onions for us to nosh on with toasted bagels while the chef cooked avocado omelets and baby red potatoes with rosemary for us at a side table. Our waiter served Ataúlfo Mango Champagne in fluted glasses. We finished breakfast with dark Colombian coffee infused with butter and coconut oil.

I was very curious about Helen's programmed back story, so I quizzed her about where she came from, about her family, what she did for work, what she did for fun. I learned she lived in St. Louis, had been married to a banker, worked in the broadcast media and enjoyed outdoor activities. Try as I might, I could not find a flaw in her narrative. The way she spoke, the emotions she exhibited, and the depth of her knowledge was excellent. What really surprised me was that Helen was very curious about me. Very curious.

"So, Hank, tell me about what you do," she asked.

"Oh, this and that. I have some investment businesses in the States that keep me busy- and reasonably well-heeled," I responded. I've never been very comfortable telling people I inherited a bunch of money and really don't have to work.

"Really?" she said narrowing her eyes a bit. "Your arms are pretty muscular, so I would have guessed you do something physical, like construction... but your hands are smooth, like and accountant."

"Oh, really?" I responded looking at my palm and then the back of my hand. "You think so?"

"Actually, the combination may be perfect," She offered and looked at me a little salaciously "I bet you give great massages."

Whoa! There it was. I was wondering how my automaton was going to steer the conversation, and she did so very subtly and quick.

I grinned at Helen and said, "Maybe we should find out. Do you think we can find a bottle of massage oil around here?"

"Oh I would guess so." She replied and smiled as she stood and took my hand.


Through the garden of the resort, past the pool, the management has thoughtfully provided a massage table under an open-air cabana by the beach in a grove of coconut palms. Helen and I found our way there and helped ourselves to ice cold bottles of Dos Equis' from a stainless cooler by the table.

Helen leaned against the massage table with her arms crossed as she sipped her beer watching the waves roll in to the shore. Her hair was lifted by the breeze and her pale blue eyes sparkled from the sun glinting off the water. She turned and looked me over, down to my sandalled feet and said, almost casually, "Take your shirt off, Hank."

After a quick glance around, I set my beer down and pulled the Hawaiian shirt over my head, not taking the time to unbutton it. Helen giggled at the awkward move, but she paused a moment and lightly traced her finger tips down my chest, my stomach, stopping just short of my belt. "Nice," she remarked.

"Now, undress me," she said.

I took my time with the buttons down the front of her sun dress and, when I had them all, I slowly peeled the dress off her shoulders and let it slip to the ground. She was watching me, I think sensing me with her little mechanical mind, feeling me get aroused as her freckled breast was exposed. My face was inches away from her skin as I sank to one knee and was eye level with her bikini bottom. I angled my head and looked up as if to ask for permission. She cocked her head to the side and made a smirking face at me that said, 'Well, duh. Take that off too.' So, I grabbed the bikini edges that rode high on her hips and pulled them down to her ankles.

Facing her neatly trimmed, bare crotch, I felt compelled to lean in and nuzzle her a little, but she grabbed my ears and tugged me away.

"Ow! Ow, Ow, OW!" I exclaimed. "That hurt!"

Helen was smiling. "It's time for that massage you promised, Hank."

"O'k," I answered morosely while rubbing my ears. I guess the automaton programmers had built in some sort of 'tease' protocol, but I was hoping we where going to get to the hardcore fucking I had planned. Sooner, rather than later.

Helen arranged rolled towels on the massage table, deftly climbed up and laid face down. I picked up the glass bowl of clear oil from stand next to the table and dribbled small drops across her back. Satisfied I had enough to work with, I set the bowl down and began massaging her muscles, starting with her shoulders. I know something about body mechanics, and everything seemed to be exactly in the right place. As I pressed my fingers into and across her upper back, her skin rolled and I could feel her musculature move under my thumbs. It was remarkable how much she felt like a real woman. Her skin was perfectly imperfect, with the color variation you would expect in a fair woman on vacation in a tropical resort. I stooped for a closer look at her pores and tiny, fine hairs. Beautiful. Helen moaned with contentment.

I worked my way down her lower back and felt her arch a little as my thumbs dug in deeper, touching some internal sensory trigger. Her ass was heart shaped and creamy white. I could feel my heartbeat rise and my face flush as I dipped my thumbs deep into each cheek, almost touching her hip bones through her feminine fat pads and toned muscle. If her head had not been turned away, Helen could not have missed the growing tent in my white pants. My fingers slipped between her shiny cheeks and I felt the thickened skin of her asshole. I pressed my finger in just a bit.

Helen jerked her head around and said, "I'm sorry, but I don't do that."

I nodded and proceeded to oil and massage her thighs. 'Interesting,' I thought. Why would the 'Helen' designers, who had created an otherwise perfect sexual robot, forget to include a functional anus? I could not remember having specified this in the planning sessions, maybe because I thought it was obvious. Damn them. I would have to take this up with the resort management.

Helen lifted herself and rolled onto her back. Her head rolled back with her eyes closed as I worked the long front muscles of her thighs. "How does that feel?" I asked. "Perfect," she replied. I was imagining myself in her position and what I would feel like, what I would want, so I worked my way down to her ankles, the top and the arches of her feet. As I rubbed oil into and between her tiny toes it struck me that I should be on that table getting a massage. Right? I paid for this damn trip, for this experience. When am I going to get mine?

Helen parted her legs, maybe a little too quickly, exposing her glistening vagina. She lifted her head a bit and caught my eye. 'Well, alright then,' I thought as I moved around between her legs. I grabbed her ankles and pulled her down the table towards me and pushed her feet back, opening her like a flower. I bent over and began kissing over and around her welcoming pussy. For a moment, I thought I heard a little whir and clicking. Was that coming from her? Was that some mechanism sound the designers had failed to cover. Perhaps, it was all just in my head. I flicked her clitoris with my tongue and then dipped in, tasting her delicious, slippery inner labia. Helen moaned and shivered. Her torso twisted as if guiding my tongue to just the right spots. I could feel the skin of her belly and thighs dampen as I pressed my tongue deeper and deeper. Her breathing was rapid and she held my head, pulling my face into her Mons. Suddenly, she grabbed my ears, arched her back and released a guttural shriek. My face was pulled flat up against her shuddering crotch, my nose bent over against her clit as she released wave after wave of orgasm.

"Ow! Ow, Ow OW!" was all I could say.


I think I mentioned that I feel a little self-conscious about walking around naked, even on vacation, even in a private room. Helen did not have the same concern. She hopped off that massage table and literally skipped to the pool, leaving her clothes behind. I watched her skip away and I rubbed my reddened face with oily hands. As I was pondering what had just happened, I picked up the scattered clothing and grabbing a couple more beers from the cooler- headed for the pool. This day was not exactly going as I had planned, but it was still early.

There were a few 'people' in the pool area, but I knew, and I suppose Helen knew, they were all artificial. Yet, they looked real and they had been artfully placed in credible real life scenarios to enhance the faithfulness of the scene- for me. There was the older, paunchy man with a much younger trophy wife sitting at a table with umbrella drinks. Young newly-weds were smooching in a double-wide chaise in a shady corner. Several automaton women were scattered around the pool deck laying on beach towels, sunning themselves. One sun-glassed wife seemed intent on her Nora Roberts novel, while her pasty husband pecked away on a laptop, muttering about the 'damned Internet here.' There was recorded conversations piped in from hidden speakers and sporadic gestures from the pool guests, but none of them remarked or even noticed naked Helen swimming laps in the pool.

Helen accepted my offer of a beer as I squatted down at the edge of the pool. She had her arms resting on the tile-work while her body glowed blue below her. "Hank, why don't you join me?" Helen asked. "This is a salt water pool and I feel light as a feather." She demonstrated by pushing back from the edge and hovering in the water just a few feet away. Her beer held high in one hand, Helen's beautiful tits bobbed up in front of her like a child's water wings.

I stood and surveyed the scene. 'I can do this,' I thought. These folks aren't here to watch. I should not be embarrassed. Hell, this is all for me.

I unbuckled my belt, opened my fly and pushed down my pants. Helen was watching me intently from where she hovered. As my boxers slipped down, my still thick cock flipped out and Helen gave a slight gasp. And a smile. She was trying to keep eye contact, but could not resist watching my cock bounce around as I stepped out of my clothes. I straightened up and relaxed a little as I confirmed the pool people had not seemed to notice me. No one cared I was buck naked. Only Helen. I took a step back and did a cannon ball into the pool.

Under the exceptionally clear water, I could see everything. Helen's body was moving slowly, legs paddling to stay upright, with bubbles rising around her. I heard a slight humming noise, rhythmic and mechanical. Water is a much better sound conductor than air, and I wondered if I was hearing that automaton's internal machinery. I felt no urge to quickly return to the surface so I lingered, admiring the slow motion exhibition of Helen's beautiful body. Yes sir, I was going to have some of that. Soon, I thought.

I surfaced and shook the water from my hair and eyes. "There you are," said Helen. "I wasn't sure you were going to come back." She swam in close and wrapped her arms around me, pressing her body into mine. My arms likewise surrounded her and we bobbed together at the deep end of the pool. Helen kissed me lightly, looked away, then into my eyes, and kissed me again. I kissed her back. Passionately. Couldn't stop. Did not want to stop. She leaned back with her legs wrapped around me. Her freckles stood out on the top of her chest and her tits glowed blue white. Her wet, darkened hair was pulled back behind her ears exposing her fine, delicate neck.

Normally, a man's package shrinks up in cold water but Helen was making things very hot. My cock was thick and erect while my balls had pulled in tight. I was ready, right now, to insert myself into Helen, but when I moved to do so, she backed away, unlocked her embrace and slipped out of my arms. I momentarily lost my balance and tipped over, my cock arching out of the water like a dolphin. When I righted myself, Helen was hanging on the edge of the pool again.

"Hank, I'm not sure that's a good idea in a salt water pool. Don't you want to take it inside?" She asked.

After a moment of frustration, I realized she might be right. Maybe salt water messes with electronics. Surely, they thought of that?

"Alright," I said, "but, Helen, I think it's time for me to take control."


Helen was in the shower washing off the salt and oil while I reclined in the middle of my huge bed. The hotel had left a chilled bottle of 1988 Krug Clos du Mesnil Blanc in a bucket for us, and I had drunk maybe a third of it by the time she came out. I was not bothering to covering up any more and my erection was still standing tall. Helen was bundled up in a hotel robe and was using a towel to dry her hair when she spied my upright cock.

"My, my, my," She said with a glowing smile. "Is that for me?"

"Uh huh." was all I could muster.

She paused at the foot of the bed with her arms folded, tapping her chin. "I have an idea," she said. "I want you to relax and let me take care of you."

"No, wait a minute," I objected, but she shushed me with a touch of my lips. She stood back and shed her robe, which, of course, left me speechless.

Helen took her bath towel and folded it into a narrow strip which she placed over my forehead and eyes. I moved to take it off, but she pushed my hands down and kissed my chest. O'k, that felt nice. Let's see where this goes.

I could hear some shuffling around and in a moment she grabbed my left wrist and tied something silky around it. She kissed my arm along its full length, and as she neared the wrist, she pulled my arm and evidently tied it to the headboard. She did the same with my right arm, kissing, stretching and tying. O'k, we were playing a little bondage thing. Cool.

More shuffling and I could feel Helen climbing up between my legs, pushing them apart. I felt her tongue tickle my balls as she held my cock in her hands. She licked it slowly to the very tip where her tongue did a little dance on the end. Man, she was driving me crazy. I was feeling a little light headed as blood rushed to my skin and engorged cock. I wanted to be inside of her. Her warm skin felt good as it moved against mine but I needed more. I no longer thought of her as an automaton- or a woman, for that matter. I wanted to feel warm wet pussy sliding down on my cock. My body writhed and twisted, frustrated by my bound arms. She was just right there and I couldn't, just couldn't reach. Just could not release.

The wood slat on the left side of the headboard broke first. The cloth on the right ripped. Before Helen could wriggle away, I had her by the wrist and was pulling her back to me. She was shouting, "No,NO, NO!" I was beyond caring. This was MY fantasy, my vacation. She was my engineered girlfriend. It was time to take control. I rolled over on top of her struggling body with my cock in hand, aiming to force it into her. Oh that beautiful pussy! All mine to use, however I wanted.

Helen smacked me hard across the face. Momentarily stunned, I thought, 'What the fuck! Are sex robots supposed to do that?' Helen tumbled out of the bed and headed for the door. I leaped out after her half-way there, she turned around and said with almost no emotion,


'What?' I thought as my body froze in mid-step. The room dimmed and my head slowly tilted down till all I could see was my outrageous, erect cock still wobbling from side to side. The sound of whirring and clicks suddenly became very apparent; and those slowed and stopped as the room went black.


Helen and Marvin Fitzhugh were sitting in the breakfast nook of the suite with a clipboard of lined forms between them. Between them and the bed was a naked man frozen in mid-step with his head turned down looking at an enormous erect penis. Mr. Fitzhugh was speaking, "Helen, I really do appreciate your taking part in this beta test of our new Hank model. From your feedback, we still have some kinks to work out."

"Thank you, Mr. Fitz," said Helen. "Frankly, I found the service quite enjoyable for the most part. The Hank physique is quite nice, but his romantic technique tends to be a little brutish for my taste. Of course, some women will like that."

"Yes," said Mr. Fitzhugh, "There is always a delicate balance between typical male hormonal inclinations and loving, caring, nurturing tendencies- and I don't think we've quite mastered the narrative programming. We are working on an 'George' model that you may find more acceptable. I hope your experience today won't put you off of our program."

"No, not at all. I would be delighted to help you out with the new one when he's ready. Just make sure I have a good safe-word like with Hank."

As if to punctuate that thought, Hank's artificial prostate suddenly let go and a thick stream of simulated semen spurted from his penis and splattered on the floor.

Helen and Mr. Fitzhugh laughed.


The Tibetan singing bowl chimed and woke me. Light was just filtering in from the east through the gauzy drapes. Man, that coffee smelled great and just blended so well with the salty sea air filtering in from the Veranda. I grabbed my robe and headed to the kitchen for a cup.

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