Kyle
Charlotte was washed out, refilled and powered down while I edited the footage. I watched the footage frame by frame.
Charlotte was straddling me in reverse, her spine fluid as she bounced with perfect rhythm. The muscles in her back moved like poetry—sculpted, synthetic, obedient. But it was her cunt that stole the show.
Just before the trigger point, her hips faltered—a half-second delay I hadn’t anticipated. Not a malfunction. A simulation of anticipation.
Then it happened.
Her neurol response loop kicked in.
Her thighs clenched. Her pussy spasmed around my cock in visible waves—precision-engineered pulses designed to mimic climax.
It was a sensation I remembered well. Her internal servos adjusted pressure.
Her synthetic walls massaged me in a pattern I’d spent hours perfecting—fast-twitch contractions.
Deep, rolling tremors. A full-body reaction built from code and electricity.
Her voice rose—automated but convincing.
A high-pitched gasp. A soft cry. A fractured “Kyle…” was not aimed at me, but the camera.
Her body arched back into a deep curve, pushing her breasts upward even as her cunt continued to flutter and throb, slick and glistening from the overflow of lube. She looked like she was in ecstasy. But it wasn’t ecstasy. It was execution.
She came because I told her to.
Because her code responded to my cock.
Because pleasure wasn’t a gift—it was a command, and it was beautiful.
I typed the video name.
Silicone Slut Orgasming on Cock.
I hit upload and watched as people viewed it.
DD Forum – $inner$kin001: New Upload
Video Title: Silicone Slut Orgasming on Cock
Status: Trending
Views: 2,839 | Comments: 176 | Likes: 412
Doll_fucker2008_31: Bro. brO. The way she clenched around you? That’s not factory-set. You tuned her.
Lubeloader_2010: I swear I saw her eyes cross. I’ve watched it five times already. My doll never reacts like that, man. What firmware is that?
Masterbaytor71: Respectfully… that was art. She looked cared for. Programmed well. You clearly put time in.
Robo_twink910001: I literally paused at the 5:04 mark and zoomed in on the pelvic tremor response. That wasn’t random. That was orchestrated. Genius.
DavesDolly6009: She moved like she wanted it. Not just a fuck doll—companion-level behaviour. Beautiful to watch, honestly.
Inceldolldestroyer_: Her hole twitched like she was crying out for more. Fucking addictive. You break her in yet? Or still playing nice?
Socketsurgeon999: Vocal tremor sync at 6:42… I see you. ??
CtrlAltDepraved03: The bounce physics were INSANE. You fitted that arse with gravity calibration or what?
Obeymycoding5091: Her moan right as she came? Sounded like longing. Like she wanted your cum. Freaky real.
FleshWrecker32: Not even mad. That was sick. Jealous AF. You running NEXUS or ShadowCore?
Downbad.exe: I cried. You've got the ultimate fuckdoll.
Too many comments were being added to read them all, but I noticed a private message flash.
[Private Message – Socketsurgeon999]
(timestamp: 9 mins after upload)
Nice work, $inner$kin001. Your craftsmanship caught my eye. Not many can mod with that level of realism without frying the sensory loops.
I’m hosting a closed-session showcase tonight. Private room. Strictly invite-only. Sadists, perfectionists, artists.
Your doll earned her spot. Come show us what she can really take.”
— Socket
[ACCEPT INVITE] [DECLINE]
I accepted the invitation out of curiosity. The chatroom was black, red, and ominous.
[Dirty Dollhouse—Sadists]
To my surprise, Robo_twink was a member.
I clicked on a video that had been uploaded shortly after mine.
The video cut in, and a cydoll had a black bag over her head. It was tight—cinched at the neck. Her breasts, pale and glistening, jiggled with each brutal slap the man gave her. The sound echoed off the bare walls of the unnamed room. No décor. Just a mattress and restraints.
I glanced at the video name.
LIVE STREAM — Devbotdom69_
Title: “Breaking in Model X-6 | Neuropain Sync Test”
Viewers: 43
It wasn't an upload, it was a live stream. I zoomed in on the video.
“This one’s got the new pain-reward feedback loop. First spike’s a 3.2. Watch how she tightens,” Devbot said.
He gripped the doll by the throat, pushed her flat, and fucked into her violently. The fake hair clung to the sides of the bag like a veil. Her hands twitched—fingertips dragging across the mattress, confused by the combination of input signals.
“The harder you fuck them, the more they bounce back up. If you modify them correctly, they tighten and contract to perfection when the pain kicks in,” the man rasped.
I stared at the screen, unable to look away. I wasn’t sure if I was disturbed, aroused, or just… curious.
The comments flooded in, a stream of depravity applauding every slap, every violent thrust. But all I could think about was the damage. Silicone tearing, internal structures warping. That kind of rough use would destroy a cydoll’s chassis over time. Maintenance wasn’t optional—it was survival.
Pain mods or not, you had to respect the hardware.
I clicked out of the stream.
Another thumbnail blinked in the corner. Older file. Low-res. I hesitated—then tapped.
The doll was small. Too small. Her limbs were thin, her posture childlike, and her voice… high, synthetic, and wrong.
I exited the video immediately.
I’d read about those models—childlike cydolls—which were legal in most zones. There were loopholes in the code, a grey area no one wanted to admit existed.
I glanced at Charlotte.
She was motionless on the sofa, recharging, with her dermal lights dim.
Her body was curled in the fetal position, lips slightly parted, eyes closed in standby mode. She looked peaceful.
I exhaled slowly.
I didn’t want a punching bag. Or some glitchy fantasy of broken innocence. I wanted a perfect, loyal companion untouched by fundamental human flaws.
I wanted Charlotte.
The others?
They could keep their broken dolls.
? ? ?
The following month, I got a Homecom notification about an incoming parcel from Nano-Tech Industries.
To my surprise, it was the finished product—ReSkin?, fully refined and ready for market.
There was even a note enclosed. Ironically, it was handwritten—archaic paper, probably in case an electronic message got intercepted.
I blinked at the numbers they’d printed. The units mass-produced. The profit projections. Early market testing hadn’t just performed well—it had blown the fuck up.
It was time to upgrade my home.
I’d never need to worry about a single credit again.
I opened up the boxed silicone repair machine. The possibilities were endless.
ReSkin could repair any surface damage. Flesh tears, stretch marks, scorch burns—gone in seconds. No more delicate treatment. No more caution. I could fuck her raw, beat her until her thighs bruised like meat, and just smooth it all away like it never happened.
And why not? She wouldn’t remember the pain. Or if she did, she’d love me for it.