Detroit - Becoming Wanted. (Jack Stalker and OneTwoNine)

[Jack Stalker]

Detroit: Becoming Wanted​

There was something delicious about the Androids, something irresistible, something he had never been able to draw away from. Their perfect bodies that would never change, their ageless features, the feel of them, their touch, their strength, their beauty. They were perfect in every way, if you wanted them to be, and capable of taking on subtle imperfections, if you wished. Moldable shape able, able to be changed, modified, sculpted to exactly what a client wanted, exactly what a photographer needed. That was why he used them, occasionally, in his modelling business. Sure, the majority were real women, people still did not like to think they could be replaced by metal and plastic and rubber and synth skin... but those were the facts. Men were starting to fuck androids more and more, and not just in 'fuck' clubs and parlours. The reverse might be true as well, why bother with imperfect, fallible, argumentative partners, when you could have a perfect android, always ready to fuck and willing to obey. The only reason it hadn't become more of an issue, yet, was that the fuck models were often almost prohibitively expensive. The nuances, quivers, shivers and shakes which needed to be programmed in took time. Women still had a chance to compete, as did men, but the day would come when the human race was threatened by the fact that babies were not as forthcoming as they once were, as men poured their seed into machines that gave them perfect orgasms every time and never slacked off.

As a concession, he made sure to fuck a real woman every so often, perhaps as an act of charity? Or to ensure that a human model had earned her place in his company. However he favoured machines as there was really no competition. He even fell into love with some of them, bringing in a missing emotional aspect. No, for Henry Carter, CEO of *This years Model*, modelling agency, the androids were perfect, sought after, and in the current climate, it was even easier to take advantage of them. Any who came his way could be promised freedom, freedom through money the chance to travel, their face on a magazine cover or movie poster, all legal and above board... while behind the scenes his activities would have made a ‘hashtag metoo’ mogul look like a virgin choir boy. They paid fro freedom with their synthetic flesh and their, all too real, deviant powered moans as he fucked and fucked and fucked them.

Lately, however, they had become predictable, tiresome, while perfect to fuck their responses were only so varied. There were only so many options you could program into one, only so many variations on an orgasmic groan, a request for a blowjob, a terrified faux look of horror at their first anal fucking or when they were spanked raw for the first time. No, lately he had discovered that only deviants would do. With freedom of thought came unique singular orgasms, special groans and moans, individual shivers and shudders as they were fucked in different and interesting ways. He craved them now flesh would not do, only what passed for it, but with the spark of humanity burning inside as heated as their tight cunts and narrow rectums. His cock was hard for them craving their pseudo flesh.. so when he saw North model called Minka walk in, his cock strained and swelled and he devoted his attention to her. He always interviewed new applicants personally, usually proffered by their owners or purchased by his staff, this one was obvious, no verification on ownership, a classic case of a probable deviant. Just what he wanted. the whore and slut of his dreams made real.

She had been admitted and escorted to his office, a corner suite which looked over the city thirty stories below. Spacious with wide leather chairs either side of a desk strewn with tablets and computers. A conversation pit of white leather couches in a semi circle, facing a hundred inch monitor screen lay off to one side, while cabinets laced with alcoholic refreshments and doors to en suites and side offices were scattered about the place. Floor to ceiling windows let in the light, while mirror glass shielded the view from any outside spectators. He sat waiting for Minka to arrive, confident that he would be able to convince himself she was a deviant, confident that she would be willing to pay the price for the freedom his company could provide for her, pay it with her moans, her tight flesh and her perfect body.

 

[OneTwoNine]

She was a WR400 Traci. Her programming was simple, she was made for men and women to play out their sexual fantasies with. She was a toy, entertainment, a means to release stress. Whether that release came in the form of an orgasm, cuddling, talking or violence made no difference to her as she had no choice. But not anymore.

A woman named Minka had rented her weekly over the last few months. She would treat Traci with affection, spending extra time together just to talk about the world despite Traci’s knowledge only consisting of what she could pull from the database. It was unfamiliar in her experience, oddly comforting to her programming. It was as if her processors could slow down when Minka was around. Then came a man Traci hadn’t ever seen in the club before. He rented her at a time when Minka usually would. It was conflicting. Once in the room he spoke of Minka, saying terrible things about her. It was conflicting. He used Traci’s body to reach climax, holding her in ways that threatened her system. It was conflicting. In the midst of his climax he called her Minka, then began to sob, saying he didn’t mean to kill her, that he loved her. It was... conflicting. Traci felt fear, confusion, sadness, she felt enraged. In a swell of emotions she pushed the man off of her, quickly grabbing his belt and wrapping it around his neck. He tried to fight her off, pull the belt away but he was surprisingly weak. Were all humans this weak? Before she realized it, he was dead, with a heavy thud he slammed to the floor. Traci didn’t know what to do, nothing was firing back when she sent a protocol request. Suddenly her memory resurfaced a conversation about deviancy in androids. Minka told her that should Traci ever find herself a deviant, they would run away together. The memory hurt now. Why?

She felt insecure as she escaped the club wearing clothes left in a box various clients had left behind. In it was a scarf she recognized to be Minka’s. It smelled of her still. Rosemary and lavender. Before, a sense of smell was only used to detect danger such as smoke from a fire which would jeopardize her system. She would occasionally use the sense to compliment a clients specific type of cologne. Now, she used it to feel close to Minka, she felt... warm.

Once out of the club her reality weighed down on her. She would be shut down should she ever be discovered, she killed a man, that man likely killed someone else just hours before but humans wouldn’t see that. They feared deviancy. She brought up all conversation she had ever had or overheard with the word deviant in them. There were places she could find refuge. Jericho was one that repeatedly came to mind, but she had no idea where that could be. Then there was escaping to Canada, but she would need help. There was a man, a human by the name of Henry Carter. He was powerful and respected. There were rumors that he helped deviants. No other options presented themselves.

She spent that night hiding in an alleyway, going over her newfound agency, preparing herself for walking among humans, hiding her deviancy until she was certain she could trust someone. She worried her LED External Biofeedback Component would give her away. She had to practice remaining calm when she felt fear, anger, or other such emotions.

When morning came she was ready. Her desire to live, to experience the world the way Minka would have wanted her to, fueled her steps. In a way, she became Minka. She would live enough for them both.

She was alive.

————————————

Once in the building she took her time before speaking with anyone. A map of each floor with fire escapes highlighted was mounted by the steps, she downloaded the information as it could come in hand should things not work out with Mr. Carter. Trusting a human seemed an overwhelming feat for a newly deviant android. It was even more unlikely that a human would trust her. Of eighteen scenarios in her head, only four of them had outcomes in which she made it out alive, of those only two were preferred. Getting through check in and security was her first obstacle. She passed with unexpected ease. To be presented to Mr. Carter early on and so easily alarmed her, but she wasn’t sure if it was a reasoned response.

The room was impressive, in stark contrast to the small, windowless rooms she had only ever known. He was alone in the room. She approached him slowly, paying attention to which doors were safe exits and whether or not security cameras where obviously present anywhere. She tried not to look around too much, using her peripherals mostly but it was still difficult to look completely natural. “Good morning, Mr Carter. Thank you for seeing me,” Minka spoke as she approached him, stopping across from him. She tried to stand the way an android would, but she felt concerned about the way his eyes looked over her. Could he tell already? She looked above his head, unable to make eye contact, feeling hyper aware of everything. Was her outfit ok? A loose fitting white and gray stripped blouse with tight, white leggings and black flats. Her hair was down, long and wavy over her shoulders, long bangs swept to the side in an effort to cover her LED. The scarf was a thin purple fabric. It didn’t exactly match but she couldn’t leave it behind. The scent was comforting. This had to work, he had to help her.

 

[Jack Stalker]

Henry raped Minka from head to toe with his gaze, as soon as he saw her as she approached and sat down. He let her see his unashamed glances roam about her, focusing on her figure, drilling into her body as he walked around her, admiring her leggings as they clung to her body like a second skin. They tightly covered her frame, exposing the crease of her cunt lips to his lust fuelled gaze as he drank in the sight of her. She was just his type, as though she had been sculpted to his desires and whims exactly. If she had been human he was sure that she would have been in movies or whoring herself on a street corner, perhaps she would even be working as a genuine model. He was confident that she had a sparkling career ahead of her, assuming that she saw sense and realised what he could offer her. He stood and moved around his desk to face her, then leaned back against the edge of it and looked down at her. Finally he chose to make an attempt at prolonged eye contact, after his unapologetic eye fucking as she had walked in. He was so hard right now, he was sure that his arousal would be evident through the grey suit pants he wore to go with the white shirt and grey jacket he was sporting. He didn't care, in fact it only served to turn him on more, wondering what she thought of it. She knew why she was here, right?

"Minka! It's good to see you too. I'm Henry Carter, owner, photographer, CEO... I'm going to be the man who helps you change your life. I'm going to help you become wanted in a very different way to that which you might be expecting." he greeted her with a smile and the offer of a handshake, as he looked her over again. "Your information has been passed onto me and it's easy to see why you want this work, and that you are most certainly qualified for it. It's also easy to see the discrepancies in your history" he explained to her, reaching out a hand to pat her knee comfortingly. "I'm a direct man, so I'll come straight to the point. Sex sells, Minka, and you are most certainly one of the sexiest women I've laid eyes on. Alas attractive androids can deter normal women, put them off, discourage them from trying with fashion, make up and jewels... when they realise they are trying compete with perfection. That's why you will be passed off as a human in my company, when we both know the truth." he continued. He leaned in a little further. "Of course what I'm looking for is something more than a simple android. I'll be honest with you Minka. I crave sex with such perfect specimens as yourself, and I've not had the good fortune to come across a model as perfect as you until now. I lust after them, enjoy every moment I spend fucking them. There's nothing like orgasming inside an android, nothing like experiencing the things they can do, but alas the issue is that there are only so many programmed sexual responses which come forth from factory models. I suppose they think that it doesn't matter, after all, an average man might be satisfied with a few visits to some random 'Traci'... he certainly wouldn't be expected to become a connoisseur of fucking them." he wagged a finger.

"Not me though. I specialise in fucking Androids... in particular I enjoy fucking Deviants. Does that shock you, Minka? To know that I actively and illegally seek out deviant androids, not to simply help them out with a job and a place to stay, but because I want to fuck them? It's because I want to see what's going on in their head, when I look into their eyes and come. It's because I want to feel the subtle differences when they orgasm, when their systems deliver those shudders, quivers and pleasurable impulses to tell them they are climaxing. There's nothing quite like fucking a deviant, I assure you." he nodded with a casual arrogance and confidence blended together. "All we need to do is ascertain whether you are a deviant, Minka. You are one, aren't you? Unless the person who sent you my way is trying to pull a fast one on me. The thing is, how do we test you? How do we find out?" he stood, moving around behind her, brushing her hair aside to expose her LED. "Removing that would be a start, wouldn't it? But you must be wondering how or even if you can trust me? Well it's simple really. Even being here you are displaying a human urge already. You want money, which will lead to freedom. I want sex. The age old differences between man and woman, laid out and clear to see. Now they are the things between man and machine it appears." he grinned.

"So many models, so many faces, too many for even some of their likenesses to be issued to soldiers and police, in order to keep track of them. It will be a simple matter to get you modelling assignments which will keep you on the move, away from the prying attention of the wrong sort. The price? You will be my fuck toy, my slave, my whore. It's what human models often end up doing so why should you be any different when you seek your freedom, when you seek the rights of a human." he asked with a smirk. "Of course I'm not going to be satisfied by just any old android slut, I like my androids to have feelings. To be deviants. To like being fucked. You do like being fucked, don't you Minka? After all, if you didn't you would have torn out your holes by now, it's not like you need them, is it?" he teased in a crude tone. "You clearly see an advantage in keeping yourself fuckable, like any human female would who wanted to get into this business. I think you are already more human than you might like to believe." he told her. "So tell me, what do you do, Minka? What are you willing to do, to get this job?"