The Prototype


Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Science Fiction, Robot, .

Desc: Science Fiction Sex Story: Who is she and who is this strange inventor?

I open my eyes, as if waking from a dark dream. Light is bright, and I am unaccustomed to it.

Where am I? It doesn't look like my mansion! I am standing on a pedestal in some sort of a workshop, with tools and computers... And that one guy. Bearded, with long hair, wearing glasses, looks at me like I was Goddess herself. Sheesh. Pathetic nerd-boy.

"Who are you? Why the fuck I am here?", I ask, in my bitch-voice.

The short guy smiles widely.

"You can talk!"

Idiot. I am going to get medieval on his ass. Or maybe Star Trek, with so many computers and tools laying round. Oh, I love that...

"Of course I can talk, moron! Now, who the hell are you!", I am calm. Well, calmer than I should be. Yes, I know I am nude now, but I sooo... rarely mind that. Oh well. I seldom remember my former partners, maybe he is one of them... He seems blocked, though. Pensive. He still stares at mine taco shell, but thinks of something else.

"Well?", I jump from the pedestal. I need to get out, get some clothes, go back home. Even if I will need to sleep with professor Hippie... or kick his butt.

When he saw me moving, he probably made his decision.

"I am... you may call me Rick.".


"Fine. Fine, Rick. Where the fuck are we?". He's a scientist? How he ever managed to graduate?

"In my lab, Ms Gina...", he answers. That's enough. He knows me, so, even if I do not remember him, he should bloody know who is Gina Septia Forbes.

I close my eyes... Where the hell is a mirror in this freakshow cabinet? I also need some clothes if i need to go home. I sit on a computer desk, pushing those keyboards and mouses away. I might not remember the previous night, but the hell with it.

"That is 'like an answer', Rick. How do I look?"

He looks at me, puzzled, and says something to himself. Something about programming and priorities, whatever.

"I need a mirror, is my makeup, my hair, okay?"

He sighs, and looks for one. "While you're at it, get me my clothes, wherever they are, okay?"

"I'm afraid I don't have your clothes, Gina... I'll get you a shirt and a pair of pants."

Whatever, Rick. I only need to get to a telephone, and I am a phone away from Hollywood!

Damn, I do not normally do poor guys. Who is this Rick, anyway. I am all for kinky sex with mad scientist, but this is too much! I look around the lab, looking for some signs of life, while doctor Rick is on his quest. Not much, some CDs, a lot of computers... Some blueprints. Booring.

"Okay, here you go." He took a mirror from the wall. Cute, if he wasn't such a moron.

I still look pretty, even without makeup. Tall and ravenhaired, without an excess pound of fat. Now, that is a miracle, still young and fresh after... wait, how old am...



Anyway, so I dress up. Male T-shirt and jeans, too short, but will be enough. Great, no shoes.

"Okay, Rick, may I use the phone?"

He looks totally stumped.


Okay Gina, what was yesterday? What you two were doing?

So here I am, bored and waiting for a hopeless moron with glasses. I try to make myself comfortable on this small guest bed, but I am not! Darn, I miss my home, my maids and all sorts of things.

Rick returns, with a glass of water, and I look at him, trying to remember what happened before.

What is the last event I can remember?


What the fuck is that? What is that? I feel... strange.

The bearded freak smiles at me.

"So, Gina..." uhhh, how? Just how a gal like me could find herself in the middle of a Star Trek convention?

"What would you like to do?", he asks in a strange, nasal voice, and - we are getting weirder and weirder - he pulls out one of the... Palmtops? An electronic notebook, and looks at me.

.... There is more of this story ...

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Science Fiction / Robot /