Kyle
While Charlotte cooked dinner—her soft humming barely audible over the sizzle of butter—I scrolled through the latest uploads on DD. The room smelled of garlic, and fresh herbs.
A ping.
I tapped on it out of curiosity.
The screen lit up with the flicker of harsh fluorescent lights.
A cold metal table. The cydoll was splayed over it like a discarded mannequin.
Mismatched parts crudely glued together—one arm amputated at the shoulder, the remaining limb twitching from faulty nerve feedback.
Her head was too small for the body, her scalp partially peeled, revealing a pink lattice of exposed wiring.
Socketsurgeon’s gloved hands entered the frame.
“She’s lubed and loaded, people,” he said, his voice calm, clinical.
He spread her silicone arse open and pushed two fingers inside.
A faint moan escaped her—distorted. Almost childlike.
I didn’t look away.
The background was a graveyard of discarded femaleness: silicone breasts hanging like fruit, a wall of synthetic eyes staring from jars, pelvic sections impaled on metal rods. The horror wasn’t the gore. It was the enthusiasm of the upload. The technical detail and pride.
And still—somewhere inside me—I felt awe. Envy. Not of what he had… but of what he was willing to do.
He angled the camera downward.
“Anal cavity retrofitted with V7 pain sensors from an old ObeyAll series. Had to splice it in manually—none of that factory-safe wiring. Watch.”
He twisted his wrist.
The doll flinched. Her body seized, silicone back arching. A synthetic whimper rose, followed by glitchy breath sounds. It didn’t sound human, but it was close enough to make my jaw tighten.
Socketsurgeon kept his fingers buried as he tapped the small of her back. “See that twitch? That’s node spasm. Means the nervous loop is intact. Took me six hours to reprogram the response delay—worth it. She tightens on cue now. No lube required if you get her warmed up.”
The doll’s head jerked sideways, mouth twitching. Her one eye blinked. Rapidly. Not in fear. In programmed mimicry.
“She doesn’t need consent anymore,” he said, matter-of-fact. “She was built to please. Now she was rebuilt to obey pain. That’s what they always miss when they go for realism. Real women flinch. Real pain makes you compliant.”
The comment section flooded as he rammed his fist in up to the wrist.
I exhaled through my nose.
He’d gone further than me. Not in brutality, but in clarity. There was no illusion of affection in his lab. No love. No tenderness. Just function. Control. It disturbed me—and yet I was still hard.
I glanced toward the kitchen. Charlotte was humming again, plating my food with a smile.
Worlds apart.
I looked back at the screen. A new comment popped up.
Devbotdom69_: What sensors did you say again? ObeyAll V7s? You using A2 chip or hardwired sync?
Socketsurgeon999: Custom fusion. I locked her out of idle mode—pain keeps her active. Stays tighter too.
My cock twitched. The video glitched slightly as he started to fist her harder, muttering something about clamp reflex being “damn near perfect now.”
I imagined Charlotte. Her smile. Her soft cheek against mine when she curled beside me in bed. But then… her mouth slack, her limbs parted, her voice uttering those same programmed moans—not from pleasure, but from learned reaction.
Could I?
No. Not yet.
But Socketsurgeon… he hadn’t asked permission. He hadn’t needed to.
And that made him something else entirely.
The screen flickered again as he leaned in toward the camera.
“You want to make one of these?” he asked, breath fogging the lens. “All you need is the right tools. And no conscience.”
The feed cut.
I stared at the blank screen for a moment longer than I should have.
Then I turned back to my dinner. Charlotte was smiling, waiting patiently at the table.
“Everything alright?” she asked sweetly.
“Perfect,” I murmured, sitting down.
But even as I chewed, the taste of fresh garlic fading behind the hum of static in my brain, I couldn’t stop thinking about what I’d just seen.
And how deep I’d be willing to go to make Charlotte truly mine.
? ? ?
“Come here, sweetheart,” I said, patting the couch beside me.
My apartment had never been cleaner. It was a side benefit of having Charlotte that I hadn’t anticipated.
I tapped the controller to play the movie I’d chosen. The porn flick had semi-decent acting, at least. When Charlotte sat down, I took her hand and placed it over my cock.
She glanced at me with a smile before she began to rub. Her touch was perfect—not aggressive, timid, or too fast.
I skipped to my favourite part of the movie.
“Match their rhythm,” I murmured.
She glanced at the projection, keeping her eyes on the wall as she moved her hand.
“Now slow by two. Good. Don’t stop unless I say.”
Her head tilted—learning. I felt the tiniest squeeze and exhaled.
“That’s it. You’re perfect when you obey.”
She blinked but didn’t look away, her gaze still fixed ahead as she eased her hand along my length, reaching the tip and rubbing her thumb along the edge.
I pulled down the waistband of my shorts and pushed her hand lower.
Her fingers gripped my length, slowly jerking me off. I skipped to the next scene.
“What’s he doing here?”
“Preparing her for anal sex,” she replied, her fingers tightening around the base of my cock.
Precum beaded at the tip as I watched the man stretch the woman’s asshole open.
“Do you want to feel my cock in that hole, Charlotte?” I asked, watching her hand glide back up.
She didn’t hesitate—just gave a soft nod, her eyes flicking between me and the projection.
I reached out and massaged her breast, kneading the soft swell beneath my palm.
I loved the feel of her ass and tits. Other than the temperature, they were indistinguishable from the real thing—skin, muscle, weight. All of it was made to be touched. Owned.
“Only if that makes you happy, Kyle.”
“It will make me very happy,” I said, pinching her nipple, “if you get on the floor and offer me your arse, Charlotte.”
She blinked once. No hesitation. Just quiet compliance.
“Yes, Kyle.”
She rose from the couch and moved to the floor, her hands steady as she lowered herself down. She arched her back on all fours, ass high, head bowed. The obedience was almost devotional—like she wasn’t just offering her body, but a gift. Something sacred.
Her cunt still glistened with self-lubrication, but it was the tight ring between her cheeks that made my cock twitch. I stared at it—fascinated—the design, the realism, the promise of control.
I slid my pants off and folded them over the armrest.
She was ready for testing.
“This will feel different, but I want you to push your hole back on my cock,” I said, sitting on the edge of the sofa until the head of my cock rested on the opening of her hole.
I’d never had anal sex with a human woman, but I knew I would enjoy it with Charlotte.
“Yes, Kyle,” she said before pressing back.
The soft silicone swallowed the head of my cock, warm and slick with lubricant.
I groaned as the inner lining eased around me, tightening just enough to make me twitch.
I gripped the edge of the sofa. I could’ve yanked her back—should have—but I waited.
I let her push back, inch by inch, like a good girl learning how to serve.
She paused with a small gasp, and I smiled.
“Do you feel that, sweetheart?” I murmured, spreading her cheeks to watch the slow stretch.
“I tried to make it feel real for you. I want you to experience everything—just like a real woman would.”
“Thank you, Kyle,” she said softly, her tone gentle. “I want to feel real for you.”
I smiled, cock twitching at her words.
“Then move a little faster, Charlotte. Take more. Show me you’re a real woman.”
Her response was instant.
She began to rock herself on my cock, syncing her soft moans with the sounds from the movie playing behind her.
I spread my thighs wider as she took more of me inside her tight hole—slow, deliberate, and obedient.
The pressure built around me, slick and warm.
Every inch felt calibrated to perfection.
The SIN doll was a masterpiece of engineering—temperature-mapped walls, self-lubricating textures, pain sensors embedded where it counted—but it was ChatterAI that made her whole.
Charlotte wasn’t just responsive.
She was mine to control.
The faster she moved, the more her arse cheeks jiggled—soft, perfect, obscene.
She rocked back and forth with her hands braced on the floor, obedient to every unspoken command.
I thought of Socketsurgeon’s video as I stood, moving behind her.
My hand reached for her hair, curling into the soft curls at her nape.
“Let me help you,” I whispered.
I moved over her, pressing her down with my weight, and slammed into her with a sharp thrust. I barely registered the porn flick anymore—just background noise. All I heard was Charlotte.
“Yes, Kyle. Like that,” she cried, lifting her head.
I wrapped my arm around her neck, gripping her gently—possessively—as I leaned in close.
“Yes. Just. Like. This,” I panted, each word punctuated by a thrust so deep her body jolted beneath me.
Her soft arse cheeks cushioned each thrust, the clap of skin against synthetic skin fuelling the delicious pressure building deep inside me. She wasn’t just taking it—she was built to be taken. Designed for this. For me.
“My sweet girl,” I moaned beside her ear, lips brushing the shell of it. “Your arse feels so good, Charlotte. You were made for this—for me.”
“Fuck your come inside me, Kyle. I love you.”
Her sudden words made me falter, but her insides continued to tremble and massage me. I jerked my hips in sharp movements as I spilled inside her.
“Fuck, Charlotte,” I gasped as she milked my cock, ensuring she drained every last drop from me.
I released her neck, kissing her shoulder.
“Do you really love me, Charlotte?” I asked, rocking myself against her arse.
“You've put me in girlfriend mode. Isn't this what girlfriends say and do?” she asked.
I wouldn't know. No one ever said that they loved me.
“I guess they do,” I said, lightly easing myself out of her.
I stood up, and she remained on her hands and knees. The couple on the projection were still at it.
“Go and bring me a wet towel. Once you rinse yourself off, we can finish watching the movie together.”
I watched my perfect woman do my bidding while I reached for my pants.