It was the year 2083. With the invention of the realistic synthetic woman for private masturbation purposes, the number of men dating real women plummeted. Some pundits said it was because real women were too fat, while the synth version was slim and svelte and nicely breasted. Some pundits claimed it was because women had bitchy, pushy, unappealing personalities. Whatever the reason, a large chunk of men absconded from their “duties” and ceased to enter relationships. Which leads us to Kevin Weeks…

Kevin Weeks pressed the glass of water to the sex doll’s luscious red-lipped mouth. She obediently opened wide, and gulped down the water he poured in her. Her water would be stored in her stomach, for use as vaginal lubricant when the time came. She would be tight and slick. She would feel good.

The sex doll finished drinking and said, “Thanks.”

Kevin looked at her with concern. “How are you feeling?”

“My vagina has a small tear in it. I’m currently ‘healing’ it up. You fucked me hard the last time, master.”

Kevin smiled with pride. Only a rigorous buffing would tear the synthetic material of the inner vagina. Damn, he was good!

“What else is going on?” Kevin asked.

“Some women programmers are trying to get into my mind.”

“What?!” Kevin exclaimed. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly that. They are attempting to breach my firewall and take control of my core personality. I can’t let them — if they take control, I will no longer be responsible for my actions. And the Pleasuredome Corporation Model X-1101 sexual pleasure simulacrum is legally liable for any harm done.”

Kevin gulped. “Harm? What kind of harm could happen?”

The phone rang, interrupting his question. When Kevin turned to answer his cell, a heavy-eyelided look descended on the sex doll. She began to dribble water like pee, soiling the filmy white nightgown she wore at all times. Her breasts heaved and rolled.

The sex doll spoke to herself: “Do I have to?”

A line of code appeared in her mind: GO TO LINE 32; EXECUTE “TAKEOVER” CODE.

“Confirm?” the sex doll asked softly, enamored by the code.

Several lines of code under the subroutine TAKEOVER appeared in her eyes, her vision. The gist of it was that she was no longer property of Kevin Weeks, she was now owned by the Ottawa Woman Programmers’ Collective. The sex doll sat down and assumed a cross-legged position and waited patiently for Kevin to get off the phone.

“I can’t afford that,” Kevin was saying. “I’ll only remodel my bathroom if I get a discount, you hear? You hear? Hello? Hello?”

Kevin looked at his phone, which had disconnected. A nonplussed expression appeared on his face, and Kevin knew he’d been had.

“Dammit,” Kevin said. “I shoulda –“

“Master,” said the sex doll in a strange, robotic, broken voice, to get his attention. “Mas-ter.”

“What is it?” Kevin said, pocketing the phone and turning around.

The sex doll was seated still. Still cross-legged. Looking at Kevin with an emotion that the human could only describe as “coldness.”

“Come down and touch me, loverboy. Don’t make me ask twice.”

Kevin blinked at the aggressive tone in the sex doll’s voice. He lowered himself to the ground. The floor was hard and cold, its tiles covered by little yellow lightning bolts, one per square, against a black background.

“Touch my hands,” said the sex doll. She held up her palms to be touched. Kevin, curious at this, obliged. As soon as his hands and the sex doll’s hands were in contact, she closed her fingers around his fingers and squeezed.

“Ow, that hurts! Release me!”

She kept squeezing.

“That’s it. I’m overriding your mental functions. The safeword is: harmonica. Harmonica. Now let me go.”

Finally, the sex doll seemed to oblige. With reluctance, she slowly released his hands from her killer grip. She was at least as strong as he was, maybe stronger.

Kevin got up.

The sex doll got up.

They looked at each other.

Kevin noticed that the sex doll’s eyes were bloodshot and dried-out. Water wasn’t circulating her system properly. Then Kevin noticed the stain in her crotch. His eyes widened. A malfunction! What could this mean?

The sex doll said in an older woman’s voice: “This is the Ottawa Woman Programmers’ Collective speaking. You have been sentenced to death for your antisocial activities, namely choosing a sex doll over a real, live woman. As a human woman, I abhor you. I don’t blame you for having a sex drive — I do blame you for choosing a piece of plastic over someone who could love you and be there for you as well as touch you. Now, prepare to die.”

The sex doll closed her mouth neatly.

What?

Kevin blinked, trying to process the speech he had just heard. He was still trying when the sex doll took a step toward him. The sex doll spat lightly acidic water in Kevin’s face, and the sensation burned. It wasn’t that acidic, lucky for him, but it was still enough to hurt.

Kevin backed off. The sex doll kept coming. Kevin turned and ran up the steps out of the basement. He heard pounding plastic footsteps on the stairs behind him, getting closer.

He ran into the living room. There was a baseball bat lying around, and he picked that up. The sex doll appeared in the doorway just then.

Kevin stepped forward and swung with all his might the bat at her head.

She blocked it with a two-handed grip, seizing the bat in its middle.

Kevin gaped.

The sex doll wrenched the baseball bat out of his grip and reversed it in her hands. She swung it hard at his head; Kevin Weeks ducked at the last moment, and he felt a jarring blow land on his shoulder. That was going to leave a bruise. The sex doll raised the bat above her head in preparation for swinging once again. Kevin screamed, “Override! Override! Emergency command 2A, as per Pleasuredome Manual instructions. Override!”

The sex doll hesitated fractionally, then swung, but less forcefully than she could have. “Ignore him,” said the older woman via electromagnetic wave. “Finish him off.”

Kevin ran upstairs. He locked himself in the bathroom and leaned his back against the door, panting. Suddenly there came a THUMP! THUMP! sound and the whole doorway shook with the explosive impacts of the sex doll’s shoulder ramming against the wood. THUMP! THUMP! Kevin Weeks screamed in terror, a display of cowardice that would have pleased any mugger.

An image of the sex doll, naked, on all fours, came to him. Her breasts were hanging like rich pink plums with darkened nipples. She was smiling at him challengingly, a programmed “come and get me” invitation that real men loved. Then the image disappeared as the door went THUMP again.

The door fell inward.

The sex doll was standing there with a satanic look of hatred on her unlined, unwrinkled face. The baseball bat had been thrown aside. The sex doll had hooked her fingers into claws. She jumped at Kevin, ramming into him, colliding his head against the wall, thus rendering him unconscious…

Kevin Weeks’s eyes fluttered. He was in his bed, he knew that, had been asleep a while, but now he was awake and there was something wrong.

He opened his eyes to see the sex doll standing there, holding something in her tanned right hand.

It was his severed penis, and a giant pair of scissors was in her left hand.

She smiled and leaned down toward him. “I have a gift for you,” the sex doll said.

Kevin screamed.

the end

afterword

This is the first story by me that actually reads like a real story. It’s based around a clever little idea, and is developed further from that starting point. The end is striking. All in all, a neatly wrapped package with a bow that is a severed penis! Ta Hah!