Carol was sitting on her living room sofa going through her bills in her panties and bathrobe on a Saturday morning. She wrote a check for $143.97 for her electric bill. $82.06 for her phone bill. $53.20 for her cable bill. And she paid her Master Card down by $50.
Then there was the junk mail. A dating service sent her a special offer just for women. Women can join for only $800. Men, of course, joined for free. In a big yellow star, the flyer screamed they had a ratio of only 20 women to every man in their membership. But she had tried a dating service once, and never even got as far as one date with a man.
She opened a large, thick white envelope from Shinra Corporation. Just out of curiosity, she had sent for a fembot brochure a while ago. She couldn't understand how any guy could prefer a robot over a real live woman.
"Ugh!" she gasped when she opened the brochure. She felt like she was reading a porno magazine. She was looking at a photo of a beautiful woman--no, a fembot--giving a guy a deep-throat blowjob. The caption read, "Now a man can have multiple orgasms! A fembot can deep-throat you continuously, for as long as it takes, to give you orgasms over and over again. All you need to do is sit back and enjoy!"
The following page showed a man fucking a girl in the ass. "A fembot can take you up her back door as easily as up her vagina or in her mouth. A fembot is always in the mood for sex and will never refuse you."
She flipped to another random page showing another beautiful woman running a vacuum cleaner in the nude. "A fembot can clean your house for you between blowjobs, with never a complaint or demand for help."
She flipped to the back where the brochure talked about the technical aspects of a fembot: "Powered by a small LENR fusion reactor, a fembot needs only a small drink of water each day as a power supply."
The next page talked about her skin: "A fembot's skin is a protein-based polymer that has the feel and taste of live human flesh. It's porous internally, and warm oil is pumped through it to make it feel like human flesh. She's indistinguishable from a meat girl by sight or touch.
"Meat girl?" Carol shrieked to herself. "Is that what I am?"
The following page got a little more explicit: "A fembot's mouth has artificial glands that produce real saliva, and her vagina has artificial glands that produce real feminine lubricants that are chemically identical to those produced by a meat girl."
"This is sick!" She tore the brochure in half and slapped the pieces onto her coffee table.
The following weekend, Carol's brother, Brian, had invited her over to his apartment for dinner. She spent the afternoon washing and brushing her long natural blonde hair. She was an attractive woman, and she knew it. In a bygone era, guys would have said that she was "hot." But slender, beautiful women couldn't even get fat, ugly guys these days.
She arrived at Brian's apartment. Mom and dad were there too. In this age of fembots, will anyone in the next generation have a real mom and dad any more? Brian's fembot, Tifa, served them spaghetti after they sat at the table. Brian was a salesman at a nearby Shinra distributorship--so, of course, he owned one of the infernal things.
Tifa set Carol's plate in front of her. "Thank you, Tifa."
"You're welcome, Carol. I hope you enjoy it."
Carol sometimes didn't know whether to be amazed or disgusted when she visited her brother. If she didn't know that Tifa was a machine, she never would have guessed. She had talked alone with Tifa often enough. Having a conversation with the robot was just like chatting with one of her girlfriends. Tifa had opinions--intelligent opinions--about current events, her favorite sports teams, movies she likes, and so on. Of course, Tifa's sole motivation was to make Brian happy and be ready at any moment to obey any request, sexual or non-sexual, that he may make of her. That came through loud and clear.
After Dinner, after mom and dad left, and Tifa was washing the dishes, Brian sat next to Carol. "Is something wrong, sis?"
Carol could talk to her brother about almost anything, drinking, drugs, boy trouble, girl trouble, safe sex, and so on. "I don't think I'll ever meet a guy. All you guys want fembots. You don't want real girls any more."
"Yeah. Shinra sells malebots too, but we sell ten fembots to guys for every malebot to a girl. And then there's the occasional guy who buys a malebot, or girl who buys a fembot..."
Carol gasped. "I don't want to go there..."
"Neither do I," Brian said. "Now THAT'S sick..."
"I don't know what I'm going to do!" Carol started crying on her brother's shoulder. (And, no, this isn't going to turn into THAT kind of story) "The last time I was at the mall, every fat, ugly guy had a beautiful woman on his arm dressed like a slut--obviously all fembots. You have to be a supermodel or a rock starlet to get a real live human guy anymore. I'll do anything to meet a real human guy!"
"Well," Brian said slowly, "If you're willing to take a risk, get a birth-control implant, and can be a fair actress, I have an idea..."
Ted had returned home to the U.S. last month. He got a job right out of college and had spent the past ten years in India as a software engineer, starting as a tester, and working his way up to coder, to project leader, to DBA, then to system administrator.
With his living expenses practically nil all that time, and the stock market shooting up like a rocket for the past few years, Ted had accumulated over $1,400,000 in his mutual fund. Yet, he knew that wealth can be frittered away too easily. So instead of a lavish mansion, he had put $200,000 down on a small townhouse. Instead of buying a brand new Porsche Boxster, he purchased a pre-owned 2024 Boxster with low miles. Then he hung his shingle as an independent computer consultant.
He had one more major purchase to make, though. He kept a Saturday open to shop for a fembot.
The Nissan fembots weren't to his liking. They all had huge chests; while a lot of guys liked that, Ted didn't.
Honda went for the techno look. Their fembots all had skin and hair in wild colors: lime green, hot pink, Day-Glo purple, bright orange. Their fembots were the most affordable, but man! Were they ugly!
He considered buying American out of sheer principle, but American-made fembots had to be operated by a remote control. That wasn't so bad, but he had also heard rumors from reliable sources that most of them were secretly hermaphrodites with retractable dicks. Yuck! No way would he even consider an American-made fembot if that were true!
He stopped at the Shinra distributorship last. Shinra's fembots were the most expensive by far, but also the most realistic, and they didn't go for any glitz--all just normal, but attractive, women.
"May I help you?" a pretty receptionist asked as he entered the lobby.
"I'm just looking," he barked at her and continued into the showroom. Looking around at the fembots on display, most were inside sealed glass cylinders, but a few were standing openly on pedestals. He walked up to a brunette in a tiny black negligee. "Are you for sale?"
"Yes, I am," she said sweetly. "I'm Selphie. What's your name?"
"I'm Ted, but I'm not really interested in brunettes."
"You should ask a salesman for help," she offered.
Almost as on cue, a man in a white blazer came out with his hand extended. "Welcome to Shinra! I'm Brian. You are?"
"You like Selphie here?"
"Hmmm, not really," he said, still standing in front of her. "I'm partial to blondes."
"No problem, sir. We have a large inventory of blondes. Please follow me."
Ted had wanted to look around on his own first, but he followed the pushy salesman into a small cozy conference room and sat at a small round table. Opening a thick binder, he opened it, revealing pages upon pages of beautiful women--no--fembots. "Why don't we start by choosing three or four, then I'll bring them out to meet you. Once we narrow down your tastes, we can narrow down your choices."
"Sounds good," Ted said.
"Do you prefer a type-1 body, or type-2?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"Oh, you haven't seen our brochure yet?"
"No." Mild annoyance started rising in his voice. "I'd just like to see some fembots. Blondes."
"Then have a seat on the sofa, and I'll be right back."
The salesman left, and returned a moment later with a strawberry blonde with piercing black eyes. The woman--no, the fembot--sat next to Ted on the comfy sofa.
"This is Tara," the salesman said.
"Hi Ted," she said.
"So, you're really a robot?"
"Yes, I was built three months and four days ago in Japan and shipped here."
"Wow! You look, talk, and act just like a real woman."
"Thank you. My skin is an organic polymer..." and she gave the whole spiel about how a fembot is indistinguishable from a real woman.
Ted took her arm in his hand and examined her closely. Her skin sure looked and felt like human skin, even to the fine hairs. He held his arm out and held their two arms next to each other. In direct comparison like that, the differences between the human arm and the fembot arm became more apparent. His arm was covered with freckles and the occasional pockmark and scar from over 30 years of life. Her skin, on the other hand, showed a total lack of any kind of blemish, freckle, pockmark, scar, birthmark, or anything else."
"How do you like Tara?" the salesman asked.
.... There is more of this story ...