Valerie was a Sony Advanced AIBO companion unit. She was constructed to have the youthful appearance of a virginal 19-year old. Recently, she was purchased second-hand to a new owner and was sent to a local cyberneticist for a detailed examination. The examination goes well except for a glitch in her sexual response subroutine. The doctor performs a comprehensive vaginal operations test, which stimulates all vaginal sensors as it simulates actual sexual intercourse. This test is known to trigger the orgasm response in androids. The doctor, knowing this, uses it to his advantage, knowing that in some androids, Sony units in particular, when an orgasm is triggered, it consumes nearly all of the android’s resources to produce the desired effect and takes nearly thirty seconds to recover. He uses those thirty seconds to hack into her main processing core and shut down all of her higher functions, rendering her mind out of action. Three hours later, two men pay a visit to the doctor, take possession of Valerie, and hand the doctor a healthy sum of money. Valerie, the doctor, and the two men are never seen from again.
Delilah X was also a companion unit. She was purchased by an escort service and heavily modified for an avant-garde style of limbs, arms, and eyes to be stripped of any human appearance. The look she had of embracing her artificiality instead of disguising it made her very popular among the technosexual crowd and was always in attendance at their annual RoboBall event held annually. This year would be no exception. She was an escort to Devon Frisk, an up and coming fiction writer, known more by his pen name, a binary translation of his real name. Frisk met many fans, including an eager young woman named Lillith. She was a young, perky type, who dreamed of comic one day, and often practiced her lines on the patrons she waited on at a diner downtown. She also confessed a secret desire to have a robotic clone made as a way of taking masturbation to a whole new level of a really having sex with herself. As the party progressed, Lillith managed to sweet talk Devon into heading back to his hotel room with Delilah in tow. When the door closed behind them, they engaged in the wildest ménage a trios not seen since the hedonistic days of Rome. By the time they were done, Devon was thoroughly worn out. It didn’t take long before the mix of alcohol and exhaustive sex made him pass out on the floor. Lillith, however was still ready for more. Delilah, a unit programmed for pleasure, was ready to accommodate her. As they fondled and caressed each other, Delilah suffered a severe malfunction, convulsing and twitching wildly before she shut down hard. What Delilah was unaware of before she malfunctioned, was that Lillith was an android too, and that she had a built in electromagnetic interference generator. She used it to pound her body with wave after wave of interference until her processors could no longer take the assault. Devon woke up, as if on cue after Delilah was shut down, and made one phone call. A security camera would later show two men helping an unconscious woman into the back of a large SUV that was waiting outside for them. Although the escort service suspected Devon of foul play, they could never prove it, and Delilah was never seen again.
How do I know all of this? It’s simple, really. It’s because I’m the mastermind behind those dollnappings, and countless other capers. Sometimes I never touch the dolls, other times I’m heavily involved, but in all cases, I’m the brains of this operation. You see, the black market of robotics is a very lucrative market. Most folks would be happy to sell you parts such as an arm and a leg for an arm and a leg. I consider myself to be a vendor of higher quality merchandise. I consider it a sin to perform any chop shop work on these women. Every one of these dolls is sold 100 percent complete. Not every job will be the same, but there are always the same elements involved in pulling off a job like this. The first of the important elements is surveillance. This is a process of patience. Not every doll you find will be the one you want to take. There are many times I’ve passed up on one. Some bots aren’t really sentient units, but more of a humanoid avatar of a house computer, so if you snatch one, not only will the house know your location, but the body shut down immediately and be completely useless. Others will have some kind of self defense program running so they’ll fight you before they get snatched up. Then you have the ones with authorization codes and voice recognition programming. These are tricky because if you attempt authorized access to one of these, they record what you look like and transmit it to the police. Of course, it’s not that these bots are completely theft proof. Any determined thief can make off with these dolls if he’s skilled. It’s all about the risk versus reward factor, and if it’s even worth your time and effort to take a doll from their rightful owner. The latest doll I spotted was a beauty named Zoe. She was a unit that was sculpted and chiseled in all of the right places, and carved and curvaceous in all of the desirable ones. Crafted with the perfect mix of a 1970’s blaxploitation foxy mama and a runway supermodel, she had the muscles of a fitness instructor, and a face of such innocence that it made it feel so wrong to snatch her up, which made me want her even more. I staked out the first story apartment she was in for two weeks. Watching is how you find everything out about your target. While I watched, I learned that she was a Mantronix Inc. Mannekin 9000™, the American manufacturer’s answer to the Japanese invasion from Sony, Honda, and Kawasaki. While they put together a beautiful product, it was a shame that she was powered by a Microsoft OS. They didn’t get a reputation for having Swiss cheese security for nothing. Of course, it didn’t help that her owner travels extensively, and never takes her with him. With windows rarely closed, and no real type of security, he was virtually begging for somebody to take her off his hands, and I would only be happy to oblige. Of course, this appaling lack of security only occurs when this is their first purchase, and he doesn’t know about people like me. After I select my target, I begin my work. Dollnapping for me is the next level up from hacking, so it only came natural to me to try to hack into Zoe. Before I could snatch her up, I had to do two things. The first thing is to get her maintenance password. This is the password that shuts down her personality and places her into her diagnostic mode. Her body is then controlled only by voice commands or through the computer that is attached to her. I used a simple Trojan horse program to record every keystroke Zoe’s owner made to find her password. The next thing I had to do was hack into her owner’s computer. From there, I would take over his computer remotely, and control Zoe until I could give her voice commands. The plan worked beautifully. Once Zoe’s owner left for a weeklong business trip out of town, I went to work. He left her hooked up to his computer, downloading a bug patch or something. I hacked into his computer using a public network node, and activated the diagnostic program. I wasn’t surprised to discover that her maintenance password was PASSWORD. I put her in her maintenance mode immediately. I watched as she froze and her expression became blank. The previous night I left a cellular phone outside of her window. I typed in the command for her to retrieve the phone, and then I called it. She picked it up. “State your status,” I said. “Currently at diagnostic mode 2,” she replied. Her voice wasn’t robotic, but it wasn’t filled with emotion either. “Format the computer you are at,” I commanded. “Formatting.” “When the computer is formatted, shut it down and leave the apartment. When you exit the apartment, there will be a black SUV outside. Do not hang up.” “Understood.” I watched as she shut the computer down and walked out of the apartment. She emerged from the front door. I ordered her into the vehicle and we drove off.
By this time, two thirds of my work is done. I usually inform buyers of what I will be getting, and all sales are dependent on any successful heists. With Zoe in my possession, I made my call. The buyer agreed and planned to meet me with her in four hours. I found a hotel outside the city and checked out a room for the night. I brought Zoe in with me. I locked the door, pulled the curtains shut, and then stripped Zoe naked. I had to inspect her for any obvious defects, and I was curious about this new model. Most people when asked couldn’t tell you the difference between a Japanese and an American model unless you opened them up and looked right at their manufacturer plate. I can take a quick glance and immediately pick out the difference between the two. Japanese dolls usually come in two flavors, petite or young. The young ones are untouchable. They’re so small and look so young that to have one would be borderline pedophilia. Besides, those are usually for old people who want the joy of having kids around the house. My advice would be just to stay as far away from those as you can. The plain ones are a different story. These are units that will have all of the quirks, blemishes, and imperfections like any real person would, from baby hair and misaligned teeth, all the way to programming some of them to be left handed. The pride of the Japanese is in making a doll so realistic that it’s nearly impossible to tell if it’s artificial or not. They even have television ads where a pair of twins ask bystanders to guess which one is real and which one isn’t (they always guess wrong). American manufacturers, on the hand, are specialists in the fantasy, or what I consider comic book look. Most will have a slender body with long legs, a firm butt, and large breasts. Mix Laura Croft, Cindy Crawford, and the Williams Sisters together, and that’s about what you have in your typical American doll. Zoe was an example of the latter. Her looks could be summed up on one word: Delicious. My hands seemed to develop a mind of their own as one homed in on her supple breasts and the other headed towards her pussy. I could’ve spent all night feeling her up when I got a crazy idea. I remembered that one of my friends had given me this interesting doll program of his. He was one for weird sex games with his doll, and this creation of his was no different. When I loaded it into Zoe, it kept her at her diagnostic mode, but activated all of her sexual subroutines. The result was that she could be my obedient little sex puppet. This made things more interesting as her pussy lubed itself up when I fingered her this time. The way she moaned, groaned, and arched her back while grinding her ass into my cock drove me crazy. I guided her to the bed and spread her legs wide and played with her clit before I dipped my tongue into her pussy. Most dolls come with a fruity flavor in their lubrication fluid, like cherry or passion fruit, but Zoe’s was vanilla flavored. I licked away at my Baskin-Robbins babe. She moaned loudly and rocked the bed violently as she reached her climax. She collapsed on the bed, and the blank look returned to her face. I climbed on top of her and grabbed her legs. She was immobile as I slid inside of her and started fucking her. She didn’t moan, but she did something completely unexpected. As I rocked inside of her, her vagina began to vibrate. The feeling was shocking, but then shock turned to pleasure and pleasure became a powerful climax inside of her before I collapsed on top of her, totally spent. I was left with no choice but to call back my customer and inform him that I had some technical difficulties with Zoe. He wasn’t too happy when I told him that I would be delayed by about a week to correct the problem. About a week later, Zoe was delivered to her new owner after I had done the necessary work on her, of course, and I received my payment minus a special discount. Now who says crime doesn’t pay?