The Tech Lab, Kerkstraat, Amsterdam,
Monday, 07 October, 2052
23:36
Marcus Bleak and Scrooge stared down at the succulent, naked body of Zino the sex robot and wondered what to do next. They had to admit the she was a sight for sore eyes. Her tall, dark body glistened with synthetic beads of sweat as she lay stretched out on the cold, metal table with cables running from her head to a monitor on the wall. They admired the roundness of her heavy breasts sitting out on her chest like soccer balls, capped with saucer like areolas with thick, long nipples jutting up like spikes. Her boobs actually sagged at the sides with their weight like a real woman's natural breasts. Her long, muscular legs were spread far apart and her pubic hair was thick and bushy. Her plump pussy lips looked very inviting, seemingly wet and moist without even being touched. Both men became very hard.
"What now?" asked Scrooge, licking his lips. He eyed her puffy lips and thought dirty thoughts. Marcus sighed and shook his head.
"Well, we can't hold her indefinitely," he said gruffly as he wondered whether fucking Zino would make him unfaithful to Agnes, his sexy robotic maid. After all they were both sex robots and cheating shouldn't apply to them. But then again they were both sentient so that meant they had feelings, right? Could a sex robot's heart be broken?
"I say we fuck the bitch right now before rebooting her," said Scrooge with a dirty grin.
"Scrooge!" exclaimed Marcus, his nose wrinkling in disapproval. "That's rape!"
"No it isn't! She is a sex robot built for fucking. Rape doesn't apply to her. It's not like she feels pain or anything. Fucking her won't even be illegal since you picked her up from the club with Mister Jide's approval. Don't forget in the end she is still a hooker."
"Yeah, I know but..."
"But nothing! Remember this bitch set up Agnes to be kidnapped and raped repeatedly by those skinheads. She deserves no mercy. It's payback time!"
"Yeah, I know but fucking her will be like fucking a corpse. She's really inanimate right now."
Scrooge grinned evilly.
"After I restart her we can fuck her senseless and wipe her memory. She won't remember a thing."
"Jeeze, Scrooge, no! You can fuck her all you want but don't wipe her memory or anything."
"Okay okay! Wow, you are such a party pooper."
Marcus sighed and glanced at his watch.
"I need to go and talk to Mr. Abel's wife about her husband's conviction for Rose's roboticide. Since we know that robots are sentient, this means that Rose was murdered. She isn't just some piece of equipment, she was an intelligent being. The stakes have changed."
"You think the wife knows anything?"
"She might. I should have talked to her before. I glossed over the case right from the beginning. I only talked to Mr. Abel and once we found the baseball bat with his fingerprints on it, I was convinced it was him. But I never knew why he did it. Apparently he seemed to like Rose. His wife knew about her so it couldn't be that he was afraid she'll expose the affair. Sex robots don't get pregnant so it wasn't because he had knocked her up. What other reason could he have killed her for? Zino seemed to have a motive because she was jealous of her 'sister' but now we know she was lying. Was she protecting someone? Or did she just get a kick out of pretending to be her killer? What the hell is going on?"
"I dunno, man. The case is weird enough already."
"I suspect Rose was harbouring a secret. A secret so terrible it had gotten her killed."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because this smells of an elaborate conspiracy. Something evil is afoot and I don't think we will like the answers we find."
"That sounds scary, man. If these robots are really sentient then one day they'll get tired of being attacked and strike back. Can you imagine a sex robot terrorist group?"
"I don't even want to think about that," Marcus said with a yawn as he turned to leave. "I think I've had enough excitement for one night. I'll interview Mrs. Abel tomorrow."
"Hey, what about Zino?"
"She's all yours. Just make sure you take her back to Club Afrika in one piece."
Brunt Oil Industries, Lagos, New Nigeria,
Monday, 05 September, 2050
09:14
For her to afford a teleportation ticket to Amsterdam tomorrow, Chiamaka needed to raise money. Tickets cost up to $3000 and for her to raise that kind of money that quickly she needed to meet one of her very rich clients. That meant probably cornering him in his office and fucking him on the spot. She felt no guilty feelings about selling her body to the highest bidder. As far as she was concerned all women were whores whether for money, love or power. Every woman had a price for her pussy. You just had to find out what it was. Sometimes she was amazed by the hypocrisy of it all. She knew women who were top level bankers who whored themselves to filthy rich clients to get them to open accounts. The banks they worked for even provided guest houses where such clients could be 'entertained'. This was plain old prostitution at the highest level and what made these women better than her? Because they didn't stand at the roadside? A slut was a slut no matter her position in society.
Chief Rotimi Daniels was the C.E.O of Brunt Oil Industries. After Shell BP pulled out of the Niger Delta due to the incessant attacks of the locals on their installations, his company was one of the many indigenous enterprises that took over. Shell had been accused of destroying the environment and exploiting the former Nigeria for their oil. The new local companies didn't change the status quo. In fact they were worse. They continued the plundering and in the end only a few people profited from the misery of the rest of the locals. Long story short Chief Daniels was richer than God.
Chiamaka boldly strutted into the cool, air conditioned reception in a brief dress that barely contained her voluptuous body. The material was light and shimmery and anyone watching her could easily see that her swinging, pendulous breasts were unconstrained by any bra. Her huge bottom wobbled and shook as she strutted in her high heels. A hush fell over the other people waiting in the reception as she stalked over to the receptionist's desk.
The lady looked up and smiled pleasantly which she thought odd since most women treated her with undisguised hostility.
"How may I help you?" she asked in a beautiful, melodious voice which Chiamaka found disconcerting. It wasn't that her tone was insincere. It just seemed... detached.
The secretary was wearing an immaculate white blouse with lace frills at the collar and cuffs. Her skin was the colour of milk chocolate and her physique was perfect like that of a mannequin. Her hair was a luxurious black mane that had been pulled back into a tight bun. Her lips were full and red with a cute, upturned nose. Chiamaka could see through the glass desk that her black skirt was quite short, about half thigh, exposing an excellent pair of long, creamy legs. She had on a pair of smart and expensive looking shoes. Chiamaka was struck by a severe bout of jealousy. She looked into the lady's eyes and at first thought their hazel colour came from contact lenses. Suddenly she had a shock and a shiver ran up her spine.
She had unusually sharp vision and she had noticed something odd about the secretary's eyes. She had noticed numbers on the curved corners of the irises. This lady wasn't human. She was a sex robot.
Chiamaka couldn't believe that she had actually just met one in the flesh (flesh? Hah!). She had heard of them and how they had taken over the sex industry abroad especially in Amsterdam which had turned into a Mecca of sorts. She had heard stories of rich men in Africa who had ordered for sex robots but they mostly hid them away in their mansions for fear of the stigma that a highly religious society would place on them for buying such an abomination. Yet here was one right in front of her. Working as a secretary?!
It wasn't bad enough that these sex robots were taking over her trade, now they were going after the few other jobs real women had left. A surge of fury coursed through her veins and she resisted the impulse to reach over the desk and grab the non living bitch by her neck and snap her gorgeous head off. Would that even kill it?
"I want to see Chief," she said acidly, "Tell him I am here and don't waste my time."
"Please give me a minute to let him know you're here," the secretary replied with the same anonymous friendly tone. Without taking her eyes of Chiamaka she cocked her head to one side and the hooker was shocked to hear a ringing tone coming from a speaker on the desk.
"Yes, what is it, Janet?" asked a gruff voice from the speaker.
"There is a lady here to see you," she said, still smiling at Chiamaka, her two perfectly manicured fingers placed flat on the desk in front of her.
"Who is she?" he asked in mild disinterest.
"Hold on let me send a picture of her to your palmtop." Her eyes blinked twice and Chiamaka realised she had just taken her picture. "Did you get it, Sir?
"Yes, I did, let her in." There was the unmistakable sound of lust in his voice.
"Yes, sir."
Her head cocked back into position and she gestured towards the door behind her.
"He will see you now," she said sweetly. Chiamaka stared at her for quite a while and feeling totally spooked, walked unsteadily towards Chief Daniel's office. She could hear murmurs of disapproval from the other poor souls waiting in the reception.
Chief Rotimi Daniels was a fat fuck that filled his plush, expansive office chair with gluttonous glee and nearly dwarfed his huge, mahogany desk with his sheer mass. He was wearing a native
agbada
traditional dress which was quite possibly the only thing he could wear since he was so huge. He was smoking a fat cigar and he peered at her through the thick smoke with his tiny, bloodshot eyes.
"Hello, darling," he said cheerfully. "Why don't you take of all your clothes and come over here and sit on my lap. My penis is really happy to see you." He gave a short bark of a laugh.
Chiamaka cringed but did as she was told. Soon her clothes were in a heap on the plush, Persian rug and she cat walked round his desk to stand in front of him. He grabbed her arm and pulled her on to his lap. She wriggled around as she felt something extremely hard prod between her buttocks from under the native dress. She was quite baffled that for a guy this fat, he still had one hell of a hard on! He dropped his cigar in an ashtray and placed a large, clammy hand on one of her big, black boobs.
"So...," he drawled as he twisted a long, hard nipple. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
