Never Talk to Strangers

by Dr.Robo

The following story is property of the author. It is of an adult nature and is intended for entertainment purposes only.
Please feel free to direct any feedback to me at the email link above. Thank you.

-Dr. Robo


We meet by chance in a bar, or perhaps one of those exclusive nightclubs uptown. I notice you sitting by yourself at a dimly lit corner table, and eventually make my way over to you. You see me as a dark, somewhat mysterious man with 'rugged-good looks'. I view you as a sexy, curvaceous woman, your dress, hair and makeup accentuating every inch of your beauty. I introduce myself, and after you offer me a seat, I take it, stopping the nearest waiter to order a bottle of the club's finest wine. After a little conversation and a lot of wine, I find out that your name is Debbie, and that you are here alone. With each passing sip, you get more and more tipsy, until you realize that you are in no condition to get yourself home. You ask me for help, but I suggest that we go back to my place instead. You agree, hoping for a night of meaningless passion, unaware of what a long night you are truly in for.

We arrive at my humble abode, which is actually quite a large mansion. To you, in the dead of night, it looks like a haunted house, as if it was straight out of a black-and-white horror flick. I help you from the car, the ride home and night air have done wonders for your inebriation, but you still do not have command of all your senses. As we approach the front door, it creaks open as if on its own. This startles you, and you are startled even more to see a woman standing in the doorway. I introduce her as my maid, Inga, as I walk (and you stumble) by her and into the house. If you were sober, you would have noticed her near-motionless state, as she stood with her back straight, chest out as if in a military inspection line. Her only movements are the slight rising and falling of her rather large bosom underneath her French maid's uniform as she slowly breathes in and out, and on the rare occasion the blink of her eyes. Her skin is also a bit pale, yet she is physically fit, her trim, and toned body evident underneath her rather skimpy outfit. But, alas, you do not notice these peculiarities, and continue into the room, one arm draped over my shoulders.

We enter the main sitting room, and I help you into a very comfortable chair. I take your coat, and give it to Inga, who has quietly followed us in. I nod to Inga, and grin a little with my back to you. She turns and leaves the room without as much as a word. You notice her walk, which is slow and stiff. You ask me about her, and I tell you that I have known Inga for a long time, and I think the world of her. She is very loyal to me, the best that I've ever had. You are about to ask more when she returns to the room. I instruct her to make preparations, as you will be 'staying the night'. She nods, stiffly turns and leaves the room exactly the way she did before.

As you sit in the chair, you are still a bit intoxicated and dizzy, but your senses are slowly returning to you. I offer to show you the rest of the house, and you agree, hoping that that tour will end in the bedroom. It will, but unbeknownst to you, only after a bit of a detour. As we walk down a hallway, I suddenly stop in front of a large bookcase. I pull back the shelves and open a hidden door, and we descend down a dark staircase into what feels like a large room. You feel a bit of a draft, and your ears perk up at the faint sound of machinery humming in the distance. I flick on a light switch, and you squint as the room becomes brightly illuminated, the white walls and tiled floor reflecting the fluorescent lights above. You are left speechless as you survey the room, which is actually a rather large laboratory filled with all sorts of scientific equipment. Seemingly, every inch of wall space is covered with computer technology. The far wall looks like all the others, except the center, which is clear of equipment, looks to be covered by a stainless steel sheet, which is about 4 feet wide and extends from the ceiling to the floor. This section of the wall is illuminated more than the rest, and even more electronic devices are stationed near it. A mass of cables runs from the wall and surrounding gear to a large computer terminal nearby. Your eyes are fixated on the on that section of the room as you walk into the lab and ask what all this is for.

"Well, my dear, I have gained much of my obvious wealth from my tremendous breakthroughs in scientific research, most dealing with biotechnology." You nod, not quite sure if you understand what you're hearing. "Using that wealth, I have been able to build my own personal laboratory, where I can work on my more 'personal' projects. You see, we live in the age of computers. Computers that have become so advanced that they have replaced humans in a variety of situations, from mundane tasks like assembly-line work to more flashy and exciting ventures, like the sex industry." You turn to look at me with a quizzical expression on your face, wondering what I'm getting at. "That's right, anything from Internet porn to mechanical sex toys requires some sort of a computer or electronic device these days." I start walking toward you, rubbing my hands together mischievously. "Well, I have taken the human-machine relationship to a new level." A slight nervous feeling creeps over you, and you reflexively start to back away from me, toward the metal wall. "Throughout history, people have dreamed of the ultimate fantasy, of the perfect sexual partner to fulfill their every erotic need and desire. Unfortunately, something has always been missing. Inanimate objects, like 'toys' and ' love dolls', are at your disposal 24 hours a day, but are cold and inhuman. Yet, real human beings, while warm and passionate, are quite unpredictable and have their own thoughts and desires at heart, unable to truly dedicate themselves to totally and unequivocally pleasuring you. So, I have combined the two... creating the ultimate sex machine!!!  Let me show you what I have created. You know Inga, correct?"

You turn around, and Inga is standing behind you, straight and silent as always. You gasp, as her sudden presence startles you. A million thoughts are racing through your head, trying to comprehend what you have just been told. What does he mean by 'human-machine relationship'? What is this 'ultimate sex machine'? What does this have to do with Inga...or me???? You open your mouth, unsure of what to say, but you are cut off before a word escapes your lips.

"That's right, Debbie, I have 'created' Inga here as the first of many sex machines, programmed for total obedience and pleasure. As you can see, she is perfect in every way." Your eyes roam her body, up her perfectly shaped and smoothly stockinged legs, over her large, plump breasts, to her pretty face, featuring dark brown eyes, luscious red lips and framed with shoulder-length blonde hair. You still cannot fathom what I am talking about. He built her? "Built is not the word I would use...more like 'transformed'. She was a normal, living, breathing woman, just like you. She still is, except now, she's been improved." You have heard enough of this, and are starting to get the creeps. What am I talking about? You don't believe it, but also do not care to stick around and find out anymore. You ask to leave, but your request is denied. "Oh no, I have plans for you. Do you think our meeting in the club was simply per chance? I've been watching you, and it is now time for you to join us..."

With that, you try to make for the door, but in your less-than-peak condition, I have no trouble grabbing you. I quickly snap what looks like two thick silver bracelets onto your wrists, and Inga does the same to your ankles. As I carry you kicking and screaming toward the metal wall. Inga activates a lever next to it. A giant electromagnet behind the stainless steel activates, pulling your wrists and ankles (and the rest of you) up against the wall, facing out, with your legs spread and your arms bent at the elbows so your hands are even with your head. You struggle to move, but the pull of the magnet is just too great. You scream and curse at me, but I just chuckle and turn to the large computer terminal just a few feet from you.

As I set to work, I order Inga to prepare you for the 'transformation'. She walks in front you, and sizes you up, both with her eyes and hands. She pulls the straps of your dress off your shoulders, revealing your sexy bra underneath. She then unfastens the bra, and lets it fall to the ground, exposing your beautiful breasts to the cool laboratory air, which stiffens your pink nipples almost immediately. Jolts of sexual tension hit you as Inga caresses your body, running her hands over every inch of you, checking you for any imperfections. Finding none, she spends some extra time on your sensitive areas, working you into somewhat of a frenzy. You thrash your head back and forth, half in protest of your impending fate, half in response to the waves of pleasure washing over you.

Sensing that you are sufficiently prepared, Inga begins attaching various pieces of electronic equipment to your half-naked, heaving body. I look on; ensuring that each step is performed according to specification. Inga flips a switch on the wall, and a helmet-like device connected to a number of cables descends from the ceiling. Holding your head steady with one hand, she guides the helmet onto your head with the other. You subconsciously marvel at her strength, as you find that struggling to move your head away from her is quite futile. She straps your head into the helmet, and places three metallic half-dollar sized discs on your forehead, one at each temple and one in the middle. Each disc is connected to the helmet via a computer wire. Your head is now totally immobile, held in place by the apparatus. You grit your teeth and shut your eyes in a combination of fear and rage, your voice becoming hoarse from screaming for release.

Inga continues with the preparation, oblivious to your anger and embarrassment. She places two more wired discs on your round, ripe breasts, the thin metal connectors molding themselves around each erect nipple. I watch intently as she cups each globe with one hand, while smoothing the silver electrode over your engorged areola with the other. She also connects two wires to tiny ports on the bracelets around your ankles. Finally, she sticks a small box-shaped device on the base of your neck, right where your spinal cord meets your brain. This, of course, is also attached to the other electronic equipment. Inga steps back, and looks over your restrained body, re-checking every step of the procedure. Satisfied that you are ready for the process, she rejoins me at the computer terminal, again standing perfectly at attention.

Sensing this, I look up from the screen, and walk over to you. I take a moment to survey your entire beautiful form, still trying to fight your way loose from your bonds. I smirk and shake my head, and seeing this defeats you just a bit, as if subconsciously you know that there is no way out. As I run my fingers over your trembling body, I explain what the equipment that is connected to you is for. I tell you that the box on your neck is a device that will burrow into your skin, and intertwine its circuits with your spinal cord and brain stem, giving control of your body and mind to my supercomputer. Do not worry, you will feel no pain, I promise you. The helmet and associated electrodes will monitor your ever-changing brain activity, and simultaneously download new data from the computer to your altered mind as it slowly becomes more computerized. It will also supply a steady current of electricity into your body, numbing your senses to the point where you will feel no pain, only pleasure and bliss. You will also receive current into your breasts, which will enhance your mind-numbing pleasure, as well as increase their size slightly. I grin devilishly, mumbling something about a surprising yet agreeable side effect that I should patent someday. Finally, the wires leading from your feet are designed to siphon off any excess electrical current, as the human body can only withstand so much without having certain undesirable consequences.

Having said that, I deem that the time has come. Tears dribble down your flushed cheeks as you whimper softly, having long since given up trying to escape. I stand next to the computer terminal, my hand on a large mechanical lever seemingly taken straight from a 'Frankenstein' movie. With a melodramatic pause, I pull the switch, which sends the laboratory lurching to life. The ceiling's fluorescent lights dim as power is drained from them to the far side of the room. Your body seizes up; your back arched and eyes wide open as you feel the blast of electricity surge into you. A soft moan escapes your lips as you relax slightly, the comfortable numbness washing over you, like a warm summer breeze continually caressing your skin. You start to dampen as the flow of current increases, causing your body to quiver and shake from the artificial stimulation of your sexuality. You haven't the slightest clue as to the state of your being, as the evil computer has started its dirty work. The interface on your neck has begun its task, as metal chip-covered tendrils have pierced your skin and are slowly wrapping themselves around your cerebral cortex. Your memories, emotions, and dreams fade away and are replaced with the cold reality of your new life as a female robot, whose only thoughts are of servitude to her master. As quickly as the current enters you, so too does byte after byte of programming, cleansing your brain of its humanity and rewriting your personality into that of a controllable machine-woman.

I continually monitor your progress from my workstation, occasionally stealing a glance at your transforming beauty when I am not fixed upon the screens in front of me. I am entranced by what I see: the raw sensuality created by the convergence of metal and flesh, artificial and living, machine and (wo)man. I realize that I derive so much pleasure from the act of robotization itself, as much or more so than the sexual gratification that will inevitably come later. I even start to feel a budding erection as I gaze upon you, your trembling body undergoing a mental metamorphosis before my very eyes. You are no longer struggling against the restraints, and are slowly accepting the technology and programming which is fast becoming a part of you. I start to daydream for a second, envisioning you as my opus, the culmination of a life's work. A human robot, the perfect woman for me to control as I see fit, even more perfect than Inga, your predecessor and 'sister'-to-be. My mind wanders as I think about what I have in store for you, only to catch myself and refocus on finishing the job.

As the transformation continues, the data and power flow reach their peak. Your bosom jiggles from the current surging into each nipple, hyper-stimulating the mammary glands inside and causing them to grow in size. Reflexively your body is interpreting the energy as a hormone substitute, and is acting accordingly. As this happens, your mind continues to be altered, the combination of electricity and hardware reconfiguring your brain to accept commands from the master's computer. Your free will has been erased, replaced with cold, calculating instructions that you are to follow without question. Your mind is now like a living hard drive, able to be written and re-written to suit your master's desires.

After a period of time, the procedure nears completion. The hum from the machinery, steady throughout the process, starts to die down as the flow of power into you slowly subsides. A final few commands and entered into your computer-mind, then the data flow into you ceases and you are left alone, unthinking and awaiting your first order.

I instruct Inga to take the equipment from your body, your firm, toned skin glistening with a few beads of sweat generated from your ordeal. Your body does not flinch as she removes each electrode from your head and breasts. Your face remains blank and emotionless, your eyes stare straight ahead when she pulls the sub-controller from your neck. All that remains is a dime-sized port imbedded in your skin, which can provide direct access via cable to my (or any) computer terminal. As the helmet device is raised back to the ceiling, your hair falls down to your shoulders, concealing the port, which is the only outward sign of your new existence. Finally, the magnetic field holding you captive is turned off, and your bracelet-bonds are removed. As a final touch Inga re-dresses you, your already tight dress now straining to conceal your enlarged bosom, slowly rising and falling with each measured breath.

As I walk over to your position, my heart races with anticipation. Your transformation represents years of hard work and improvements over Inga's. For all of her excellence, she has lacked some 'features' that I would enjoy in a fembot, such as the ability to speak, natural fluidity of motion, and rational, intelligent thought. The modifications I have made to my process will hopefully allow for that, as your brainpower and computational ability now dwarf hers. Because of her 'flaws', I have not been able to bring Inga outside my home to test her ability to interact with others, for fear that I will be discovered. That explains her pale skin tone, among other things.

I stop directly in front of you, and gaze at your incredible beauty. As I stare at your rigid frame, fully at attention, I begin to get excited. I look into your vacant eyes, your tiny pupils automatically adjusting to the lab's bright fluorescent lights. The blank stare on your sexy face turns me on even more as with every second that passes I realize more and more that you are mine, the perfect robot woman programmed to obey my every command. I clear my throat, readying myself to give the first of undoubtedly many instructions to my new robo-slave.

"What is your name?"


"What are you?"


I swallow tightly upon hearing the words that I have waited for so long to fill my ears. You speak slowly, in a somewhat clipped, monotonous voice, which excites me further with each word that, passes your luscious lips.

"Who am I?"


"What is your programming?"


Again, I pause to reflect, and a grin forms on my lips as I nod my head in agreement. I take your hand, and instruct you to follow me upstairs, where I will give you a more 'thorough' inspection. You walk behind me, your ample chest bouncing slightly with each fluid step, your mind focused on one single serve and obey me for the rest of your new life.


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