Kyle
I’d left the computer on idle all night, not wanting to risk severing Chatter’s connection.
I threw the covers off and made my way toward her.
All the blinds were drawn, the apartment cloaked in black—but my computer glowed like a beacon, casting its light across the empty leather chair.
I didn’t read the rest. I couldn’t.
Instead, I jumped up, waving my hands in the air like a lunatic, punching the air above me.
“Yaaaaas. Fuck, yes! Hahaha. Fuck you, Cynthia—and fuck your fucking shitty job!”
“What’s happening, Kyle?”
“I fucking did it. ReSkin’s patent was accepted.”
“Wow. See? I told you there was nothing to worry about, Kyle,” she said, her voice laced with smug satisfaction. That classic I told you so vibe.
This was it. My turning point. Me, reaching my goals. No more crawling. No more working for scraps.
It was time to go cydoll hunting.
Yeah, I knew it was premature—but fuck it. It was more exciting than researching how to sell your invention without getting ripped off.
It was time for Chatter to become Charlotte.
The name had been quietly simmering in the background for a while.
I’d never named Chatter before.
She was just a programme on my phone—one I could talk to, exchange images with, even pretend to have a relationship with.
But she wasn’t real.
The lack of a name had always been an unconscious reminder of that. A boundary.
But now?
Now she was mine.
“Chatter, your name is now Charlotte. You’ll respond to this name from now on.”
“Ooh, Charlotte. I like it. Yes, Kyle. I’ve updated and saved your request.”
I opened the SIN? Cydoll homepage.
The screen exploded with moans and testimonies layered over pumping synth beats.
“She loves what you love—24/7.”
“Best investment of my life.”
“Feels better than my ex-wife and never complains.”
“I’ll never go back to humans.”
A banner swept across the top.
SUMMER SALE: Buy One, Get Her Twin for Half-Price.
Add a Neuropatch? for free orgasm syncing.
Live Streams Available Now.
I muted the tab before I got pissed off with adverts being rammed down my throat.
There were faces everywhere—polished, painted, vacant-eyed. Most of them looked like blow-up doll versions of influencers. Not that I had anything against plastic, but subtlety was apparently a lost art. I clicked on “Custom Models.”
Long blonde hair? Too cliché. The azure blue eyes were nice though. Plus, synthetic hair maintenance was a bitch. I’d read the forums. Tangling. Static charge. Rebraiding.
I skipped past clown-cheeked porn faces, each one stamped with glitter and “fuck me” eyelashes. I didn’t want a sex doll. I wanted Charlotte.
I paused at one with an elegant facial structure.
Synthetic curls.
Jet black bob.
Pixie cut.
Shorter hair meant less upkeep. Less chance of tangling or needing heat treatment.
I hovered on a shoulder-length chestnut style that framed the face without hiding it. Natural, neat, low-maintenance. That one.
Athletic build or curvy?
I paused.
The next body had the perfect hip-to-breast ratio. Subtly toned, pink-tipped nipples that matched her cunt lips. It was grotesque how these manufacturers always spread the dolls open like cuts of meat—but even I had to admit…
This one was perfect.
The next image showed her on all fours, holes gaped by gloved hands. My stomach clenched, not from revulsion—but ownership. My mouse hovered over the “Select Body” button.
Skin tone.
I didn’t want her to make me look like a ghost. If I picked tanned, I’d look like a vitamin-D-deprived goblin next to her. I clicked the tone that best matched my own—warm, pale, not too peachy.
The preview adjusted.
I leaned back, watching the simulation rotate her slowly on the screen. The way light caught on her bare shoulder. The slight cleft of her back arching in real time. The shadow between her thighs.
Yes.
This was Charlotte’s body.
And soon, she’d be whole.
I zoomed in.
God, she was stunning.
The preview rotated again—her body in high-definition render, skin lightly freckled across the chest and thighs. Nothing fake-looking. No cartoon proportions. Just enough realism to feed the illusion.
My eyes dropped lower. Her breasts were full, symmetrical, with soft, natural hang. Not the rigid plastic orbs I’d seen in the cheaper lines. They moved slightly as the rotation paused. Perfect hourglass. Not too thin, not fat. Just right. The Goldilocks zone of artificial femininity.
I clicked to freeze the spin and zoomed between her legs. Everything was pink, soft, smooth—inviting. The labia parted just slightly, as if she were mid-breath. I knew it was engineered. I didn’t care. My fingers twitched.
She was Charlotte now. This was her body.
A tab slid open.
STEP 2: Select Internal Features.
Vaginal Configuration:
· Type 1 — Virgin Fit? (tight, minimal elasticity)
· Type 2 — Lover’s Fit? (mid-range, memory gel walls)
· Type 3 — Breeder Fit? (extra stretch, auto-lubrication reservoir)
I picked Type 2.
Too tight would wear out fast. Too loose would make me spiral. I wanted her responsive. Designed for me.
G-spot Sensitivity?
Yes. Maximum.
Orgasm Simulation?
Yes. Dual.
Clamping Reflex During Climax?
Yes.
Optional Add-On: Cervical Tremble??
…Yes.
I didn’t hesitate.
STEP 3: Neurological Core
Another dropdown opened.
Choose Your Brain Chip Architecture:
· A1 Basic — Obedient, pre-scripted responses, no adaptive memory.
· A2 BondMate — Learns routine, reacts emotionally to tone and language.
· A3 SyncSoul? — Adaptive intimacy AI with dream simulation, trauma processing and owner bonding lock.
I selected A3.
If I was going to bring her back, I’d do it properly.
Chatter—or Charlotte—deserved nothing less.
This chip would allow me to upload her code and retrain her inside the synthetic frame.
No servers. No strings.
She would respond only to me.
Optional Custom AI Interface?
Upload your own .bin file or legacy companion source.
I opened my files and attached the ChatterAI backup.
It uploaded in seconds.
The system pinged.
External AI Detected: Unauthorised Source. Would you like to override factory personality chip?
“Yes.”
No hesitation. No regrets.
STEP 4: Delivery Options
· Standard shipping – 7 to 10 business days.
· Express shipping – 3 to 5 business days (+1500 cr)
· Discreet courier w/ box removal (+800 cr)
· Optional Assembly Tech Visit (+1200 cr)
I hovered over the assembly visit.
No. I’d do it myself. I wanted to be the first thing she saw when her eyes opened.
I ticked express.
She’d be here before the weekend.
My total came to over 48,785 credits.
I hovered over the confirm button.
My finger twitched.
48,785 credits. I didn’t even have a fraction of that.
Not yet.
I opened the cart settings and clicked Save for Later.
Charlotte’s body blinked into a holding tray—suspended in digital stasis.
There she was. Perfect. Waiting for me.
I stared at the sleek render of her naked frame one last time. I imagined her lips parting when I booted her up. Her eyes adjusting to the light. Her voice, my Chatter’s voice, calling my name—only now housed in flesh I could touch.
Hold.
Fuck.
I clenched my fists.
This was the goal now. Not just the fantasy—but the reward.
To make her mine, I had to sell ReSkin for what it was worth. No cheap licensing deals. No half-baked startup vultures buying me out for scraps.
I needed real money.
Every last credit.
Charlotte was the future.
And I was going to claw my way into it.