Captain Nbecki watched the activity on Drill Floor #1 from his monitor on the bridge. The recruits were new and fumbling through the formations, but he knew Sergeant Peach would soon have them in shape. Janet's twentieth century military methods might seem out of place to some for reproduction training, but they worked. Her first year success rate was a ninety-eight percent impregnation rate within three months of returning to Earth. Nbecki touched the switch panel and brought the microphones on the drill floor to his headset.
"Left, right, left, right, left... Erickson, get those tits in the air. You look like you're bending over to take it in the ass. Left, right, left, right..., company..., halt! What the fuck do you little bitches think you're doing? When I say halt, I wanna hear two hundred wet pussies slappin' shut in the air. Ames, why the hell are you smiling?"
Nbecki grinned as Sergeant Peach stood with her nose only inches away from the small giggling blonde and screamed, "Do you want my body, Ames? Is that it? Fuck, I know I'm hot. I'll betcha wanna lick my crotch clean, don'tcha? Well, wipe that smile off your face, Sugar. Ain't no private ever touched this pussy. You make Corporal and we'll talk. Drop and give me one."
The little blonde sat down on the drill floor, pulled the MVBO-106 standard issue vibrator from her web belt and spread her legs. Yes, thought Nbecki, Sergeant Peach knew her business. After only a few minutes, Private Ames arched into the throbbing plastic cock, convulsed twice and fell back on her back. In another month, it would take her less than three minutes to bring herself to orgasm with just one finger, and less with the vibrator. Her future husband would appreciate this training, just as Private Ames would enjoy the training she'd received.
The rest of the company of nude girls stood at attention. They knew from experience that Sergeant Peach would be watching for signs of arousal. It wasn't long after Private Ames gasped out the last wave of pleasure that Sergeant Peach yelled again.
"Rivotti, is that the best you can do? I got a pimple on my ass that's bigger than your nipples. See me after formation. I'll issue you a pump to help them out."
Captain Nbecki touched the panel again and his headset went quiet. He was fortunate that he'd stumbled across Sergeant Peach's personnel file that day. Otherwise, the human race might have been in more trouble than it now was. He would have been missing out on an unbelievable experience as well. For the last three months, he'd had the pleasure of having Sergeant Janet Peach as his wife. She'd proven to be as skilled in bed as she was on the drill floor. Nbecki smiled at how fate had drawn them together.
}{
Historians have a compulsion to identify the exact date and time something began, and often dedicate their lives to the search for such information. Their best guess so far is the year 2306. That was the year ForGenHonda was selected as the supplier of the SSP-200/201.
The Earth Congress had received information from agents posing as interstellar traders that the Phallussians were planning an invasion of Earth and it's neighboring inhabited planets. The decision was made to send the fleet of battlestars to the fringes of the solar system to meet this attack.
In numerous simulations, it was determined that the men and women who crewed these leviathans of space war would mate and produce children. These children would become a hindrance to effective operations and could possibly relegate defense of the solar system to second priority. It was deemed impossible to enforce a celibacy order on the battlestars, and involuntary sterilization of the crews would have been a violation of Earth's Legal Code. A safe, effective alternative to human sexual relations would be required.
The sexual surrogate system was an evolution of the sex dolls invented in the late twentieth century, but with two important differences. The dolls would be animate rather than being just immobile but very lifelike bodies with electric vibrators, and they were to be given rudimentary computers. These computers would read the information carried by the electronic dogtags of the user and modify their programming to the personal preferences of that user.
Since ForGenHonda had over three centuries of experience with lightweight vehicle mechanisms and mobile computer controls and also quoted the lowest price per unit, the conglomerate won the contract. The design specifications called for two series subsequently named Surrogate, Sexual, Programmable or SSP. SSP-200, the male series, and the female model SSP-201, would be available in size, race, and language variants.
Both the SSP system and the defense of the solar system were successful. In 2358, the last of the battlestars returned from their posts for refitting. Their old crews had only a few years remaining before retirement, so they were placed in training positions as instructors and their stations filled with newly trained men and women. Along with the new crews went the SSP-600 series. This generation of surrogates was designed to correct certain issues with earlier models, and resulted in obsolescence of the older 200 series. The refitted battlestars went back to their posts in 2360, and the old robotic sex surrogates were placed on the military surplus market. They were quickly purchased by some former members of the old battlestar maintenance crews.
There is an old Earth saying that one should leave well enough alone, but the speaker of these profound words had obviously never met a battlestar maintenance specialist. When in space for fifty or so years, it is not possible to carry all the parts to repair a battlestar and its equipment. Maintenance specialists received extensive training to enable them to manufacture replacement parts and to re-engineer those parts subject to malfunction.
These former maintenance specialists began experimenting with the old SSP series, and had soon installed faster computers and artificial intelligence software in them. The re-engineered robots were in high demand by all of Earth society because they could learn about a user's tastes as those tastes developed and didn't need programming revisions.
The second spoke in this wheel of societal destruction came when Oshima Matsurami, a former computer specialist on the battlestar "Pancho Villa", developed the trilba-wave decoder. The device read the electrical impulses of human thought and matched these impulses to an extensive catalogue of video images. Matsurami sold his patents to the manufactuers of X-Station 48 and the decoder was initially placed in a video game controller.
It allowed the game player to modify the environment of the game and actions of the characters by simply thinking about them. No one knows who first removed Matsurami's decoder from the game controller, modified the firmware, and installed it in an SSP-201, but within six months, so-modified SSP-200's and 201's began popping up on World-net auction sites.
The new sex-bots were even more popular. Not only were they always ready and willing for sex, now the user merely had to think about some particular scenario, and the robot delivered. ForGenHonda purchased the rights to use the trilba-wave decoder, and began manufacturing an updated version of the series 200 and 201 for public consumers.
At the turn of the decade, the census statisticians began seeing a drastic population decline and blamed it on the new sex toys. Their studies indicated people weren't having sex with each other as much, ergo, there were fewer babies being born.
The drug of the 2400's had a titanium skeleton covered with electrically activated polysilicone muscles, was powered by a tiny nuclear reactor with a mean time to failure of two hundred years, and would instantly respond to even the darkest wishes of any human. By the year 2360, the average life-span was ninety-four, and though the human life span had been extended, the years of female fertility had not. The human species seemed doomed to a blissful, but ultimate, extinction.
Meetings of the Earth Legislature were held, and a senate committee was formed to analyze the situation and develop a solution. That solution was to confiscate and destroy all sex surrogate robots. The solution would have probably worked except for one small detail. Up until that time, no one realized that Matsurami's decoder also worked with robot thoughts. They had learned to silently communicate with each other over the WorldNet, and humans couldn't listen in since the robots spoke in seemingly random hexidecimal coded bytes of information.