Robot Sex Doll Model Freeway Heist

Yeah, yeah. You're thinking, 'Who the fuck names their story 'Robot Sex Doll Model Freeway Heist?', but after you read this, you'll understand why it fits. In fact, by the time you finish reading all of it, you ought to be thinking, 'What else could it be called, but 'Robot Sex Doll Model Freeway Heist?'

This whole business is madness. I guess when one works at a sex doll factory, one should expect to have a memorable experience here and there, but what happened to me is almost too much to swallow. No pun intended. Allow me to start at the beginning...

***

I didn't want to work at a sex doll factory. It was never an aspiration of mine. I just needed a decent paying job. I had made it through three years of college before dropping out, bored to tears, thanks to my ADHD. The most I got out of that experience was a mountain of debt and a bitter ex-boyfriend. I needed to make more money if I was ever going to get out from under it, so when Brody Pastel offered me a job at 'Brody's Bodies,' I jumped on it.

Brody is a good friend of my old boss, Carl Casta. I handled desk duties at his company, Casta Creative. Stuff like billing, scheduling, along with the occasional pagination job. I was a glorified office secretary, nothing more. Carl often raved about me, telling Brody things like, "Samantha Dunning is a breath of fresh air!", "We'd be lost without Sam!", on and on. These days, Carl jokes about how he should have kept his stupid mouth shut, because Brody offered me double what I was earning at CC to come work for him. Brody said he'd been through four terrible assistants over two years and needed someone dependable and capable. Carl assured Brody that I met those qualifications and I was grateful to them both for allowing me the opportunity to switch jobs for better pay. However, I was apprehensive about working for a place called Brody's Bodies.

There are several high-end manufacturers of sex dolls on the planet. I mean that in the literal sense. Several. Very few. Brody Pastel is considered one of the best in the business, offering sex dolls that can be manipulated and moved like real human bodies, with proper weight and weight distribution (very important, so they say). These dolls can be propped in nearly any position. They can even stand, balancing almost as well as any person would. For this and other reasons, Brody Pastel was considered a genius in the industry.

Personally, I'm no fan of the merchandise. All the dolls are made up to look like oversexed Barbies, yet with even more ridiculous proportions than those plastic classics. I'm not sure why the physical appearance of the sex dolls bothers me so much, considering they are literal sex objects. I guess I just find it insulting to real women with real figures.

I'd probably been working a week or so when I met Jennifer Pastel for the first time. She looked quite a bit like the dolls we sell, with a healthy six figures of plastic surgery performed on her. "Hi, honey. I'm here to see Brody," she said while strolling past my desk at the front of the office.

"Shall I tell him who -" I tried to stop her, but she was long gone. She walked with confidence, knowing her exact destination.

"That's Brody's ex, Jennifer," said Pete Unger, behind me. His office was the first past mine, just off the west hallway. He must have just stepped outside his door when Jennifer came in. "Those two are in the midst of a divorce. They still haven't settled their... well, you know... who-gets-what-and-how-much issues... Jennifer thinks she's entitled to more than half."

"More than half?"

"Yeah, she's batshit. She was one of our first models, and the doll fashioned after her is still one of our most popular... but that's the most she ever contributed to the company. Jennifer's never actually worked a day in her life."

"Oh. How long were they married?"

"I dunno. A few years, maybe? Let's see... yeah..." Pete looked up, squinting, trying to reach back into his memory banks. Finally, he relaxed and answered, "It would be almost five years, I guess. But for the last year or so, they haven't been around each other very much."

"What's going to happen?"

"I'm sure Brody paid for a good lawyer. This will cost him, but it won't break him."

"I hope not."

"You wouldn't be here otherwise, Miss Harper."

"Please, call me Samantha. Or Sam."

"Alright, Sam. Brody's a good guy, you'll see. Pays us what we're worth; expects reasonable results in return. You found a good place to plant your feet, career wise."

"Really?"

"I mean it. I'm not just being a cheerleader for the company. Brody is a good leader. Solid guy. I suppose there might be better bosses out there, but they would be hard to find."

"That's good to know. Mr. Pastel said he had so much trouble keeping help, I was worried he might be a bit of a tyrant or something."

"Brody is no tyrant. We just have the worst luck with finding decent help."

"I hope to change that," I said, thinking on it a bit more. Why would anyone perform poorly when this place pays so well and everyone seems so nice? Maybe people just didn't like the idea of working for a sex doll company. Again, I wasn't thrilled about it myself. In fact, I didn't even tell my friends. When the subject of my career comes up, I just say I handle administrative duties. It sounds boring enough that no one ever asks follow-up questions. I certainly don't mention anything about the sex dolls in various stages of production in the workshop.

Jennifer Pastel didn't stay long. Before Pete and I finished our conversation, we could hear her heels click-clacking far down the hall, coming our way. The footsteps were loud, which I interpreted as anger. Judging from the expression on her face, it seemed I was accurate. As Jennifer exited the front door, Pete whispered, "I wonder what set her off. Usually, she's calm as a cucumber."

That was quickly answered when Brody approached a moment later. "Jennifer just found out I pulled her models."

"Wait, what? You pulled her models? Even the latest, upgraded version?" Pete sounded incredulous.

Brody nodded, "Yup, we'll make a better one. No more royalties for that terrible woman. And because of some good intel that my P.I. picked up, Jen will be lucky to make it out of this divorce with much of anything. It will be a very modest figure. No house, no additional cars, nothing. But if she were smart, she could still retire on it. Knowing her, it'll be drained within a year."

Pete was belly laughing. "Really? You stiffed her?"

"She stiffed herself."

Pete was red in the face, happy. "Boss, if anyone deserves it..."

"Maybe... but it doesn't make me feel great. Her loss, though." Brody glanced to me. "I won't bore you with details, but I really loved that woman and she blew it."

I wasn't quite sure how to respond. I said, "Some people just don't know how good they have it, sir."

"You got that right," affirmed Pete.

Brody waved it off, "I'm just glad it's over. Except we need a new model developed and fast. Before that Eros project starts next month."

"Eros?" I asked. I didn't know many details of the ins and outs of the business yet. Still learning.

Pete answered for Brody, "The 'Jennifer 5' was one of the models slated for the Eros-A.I. project." I still wasn't registering any knowledge of anything and Pete picked up on my ignorance. He sighed, trying to explain in more detail. "This Japanese company, Eros-A.I., is installing an artificial intelligence for a new, life-moving model. It will work in several different ways: by remote control, a programmed sequence, or its own responsive A.I. Even a combination of those choices will work. It is advanced robotics and artificial intelligence combined, Samantha. We provide the bodies. Eros-A.I. provides the brains and robotics."

"Wait. Really? Like sex-bots?"

"Yeah, but the frame has to be a perfect. Three hundred-sixty different joints of varying types, fully functional. You should see how the hydraulics work with this, Samantha. It's astounding."

"I bet." Hell, they already had me believing it would be the next big thing. I'm sure they knew what they were doing.

Brody was just about to leave when he stopped, turning back. Without saying a word, he looked me up and down and grunted a couple times. I was about to say something when he finally spoke, "Pete, do you remember when we talked about making a GND model?"

"I've been saying we should be offering one for ages, Brody. Why?"

"I'll bet we could convince Eros to let us use our new GND model as one of the test pilots in this project. We'll replace the Jennifer-5 with it."

"But we don't have a GND model."

Curiosity got the better of me and I interrupted the two men, "What is a GND model?"

Pete answered, "Girl Next Door. A model that is cute, but without being overtly sexual like our main line of products."

I smiled wide, beaming. Finally! Again, why did I care? For some reason, I did. "I think that is a great idea! All your products are... well, you know... built like porn stars. Maybe some guys don't like that."

Brody asked, "Why don't you reach out to one of the modelling agencies, Pete?"

"Modeling agencies?" I asked.

Pete sighed, "Yeah, we need some girl who doesn't mind being the image for a new sex doll. Or, as Samantha just said, a 'sex-bot' in this case."

I was still curious and asked, "But why do you need to model the product after a real person? Don't you have to pay royalties by doing that?"

Brody explained, "Yes, either royalties for using their likeness with each and every sale, or a straight buy off. Depends on the contractual arrangements. But the reason we use actual models is simple. If we didn't, and a product we made just happened to look like someone in the real world, that person could potentially sue us. Though they may not even win the case, it costs a lot in legal fees to go to court. So when this comes up - and believe me, it always does - it's easier to show that the products were designed after actual models, with contracts signed and photographic evidence. It closes all arguments and prevents these lawsuits from ever moving forward. Weighing risks, rewards, and costs, we always go with using real women as the models to our products. In Jennifer's case, she was getting $1,400 for each model sold with her likeness."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and what?" Brody asked, turning to Pete. "We sold over a hundred of her models last year, right, Pete?"

"Almost two hundred."

Numbers ran in my head. That meant Jennifer made over a quarter million dollars in royalties alone last year, doing nothing but sitting on her ass. "Why wouldn't you pay a one-time fee?" I asked.

"Well, some models are fashioned after specific adult actresses or streamers. These women have a following and their fans specifically order from us to get these models. Hence, why so many of our products look like porn stars. They're literally modeled after them. Jennifer, for instance, used to be one of the highest earning exotic dancers in the nation. She's still got a large online following, too. But let's say it's a lesser-known person who models for us. We might pay a one-time fee if the model would agree to that. To allow us to use her image indefinitely."

"And indefinitely is a long time," whispered Pete.

"Right," affirmed Brody. "Attitudes could change over the years, so we actually encourage the models to choose a royalty. It gives the models more control. We just include the cost of the royalty fee to the end customer."

"Alright, I get it. Makes sense," I said.

Brody switched back to his former thought. "Pete, since we're dropping Jen's models, let's push that GND project up immediately, ahead of anything else. Find someone today. I want all digital imaging done by Friday, if possible."

"Friday? But Brody, today is Wednesday."

"How hard can it be to find a model? Just call the agencies."

"Yeah, but you brought up the theme, Brody. All the models at the agencies have stereotypical, hot bodies. Don't you want something more like..." Pete paused, trying to think up an actress or someone famous, when he pointed at me. "I dunno... more like Sam here?" I didn't know whether to be insulted or flattered. I worked hard to look good. Maybe not like a porn star, but still.

Brody eyed me up and down. "Yeah, she's what gave me the idea, actually. Find someone like Sam." His eyes dropped to my hips and then back up. He tilted his head. "Nice up top..." His eyes then went back to my hips and his voice softened, "... cute, round bottom..." I think Brody realized it was probably inappropriate to measure up an employee in such a sexual manner, regardless of the workplace environment. He stopped himself.

Pete didn't seem to be reading the room, either. "Why not Sam herself?" he boomed. "If we specifically want someone cute and unknown, she fits the bill." Pete turned to me. "And I think you can negotiate something like six hundred a unit. For your royalty fee."

"That's fair," said Brody, pointing, "But don't push it."

"Wait, what?" I cried. "You mean, if you use my likeness on a sex doll, you'll pay me six hundred dollars for every sale?"

Pete nodded. "Oh yeah, and expect sixty or seventy to be sold in the first six months. If we also use your likeness on the more advanced bots... well, I'm sure you can guess we're going to sell thousands of those, supposing the final product comes out as we hope."

Fuck my modesty and any issues I had with working for a sex-doll company. You'd have done the same thing. I signed a contract no more than an hour later.

**

The finished product came out far better than what anyone could have hoped. Eros A.I. was way ahead of the game and obviously made sure their software and robotics worked, before investing with us on the molds and exterior details. They just needed Brody to come through on his end, and wow, did he ever. The bots could walk, hop, run, write, juggle, you name it. It took some tweaking here and there, but the work came along astoundingly fast. It was clear our partner company was creating and utilizing cutting edge technology, considering the advanced robotics at play. However, there was still something slightly 'off' about the sex-bots into the second month of trials and I was the one who figured it out. When not doing anything, they were perfectly still. They had a few loops of animation, but it felt programmed, even if it was randomized. Things like blinking, sighing, and looking around the room. The trick was the bots needed to 'breathe' authentically -- they needed to move their chest and stomach in the same kind of breathing patterns that we all do. What many people don't realize is that breathing patterns also include sporadic, heavy breaths. Eros A.I. brought in an American programmer named Eric Parsons who worked with me and Brody, measuring and recording my own breathing. Then, with a few days of Eric coding and tweaking, we had it all down. To be fair, I couldn't believe what I was staring at. It was like a clone. An exact duplicate of me.

**

I thought back to the day I first agreed to do this; that day Pete suggested I be the model for the new product. I was mortified to discover I had to be stark naked around my colleagues as they took intricately detailed measurements of my body, as well as 3D laser scans to pull a perfect image. I remember Pete tried to make me feel comfortable when I first dropped my robe.

"It's just for a day or two, Sam. I know this is... weird..." As Pete spoke he tried to avert his eyes from my naked body. I appreciated the effort, but I knew he enjoyed seeing me this way. That was apparent by the action in his pants. "... but once we get these scans, you won't have to do this again."

"Uh, that's good," I replied. "It is a bit unsettling. I've never done anything like this before."

"Very few have," Pete chuckled.

"I mean, getting naked in front of people. Thanks for not making it too weird." I was lying. It was very weird. But I admit, it also turned me on a little. I caught Brody catching an erection around me, too. It was kind of hot knowing that my body turned them on.

As they were scanning my torso, Pete and Brody came to me together. Brody spoke first, "So, uh... Sam. Of course, you're aware your left breast is slightly bigger than the right. We like that, and we're going to keep it. But, uh..."

I was feeling even more embarrassed as they brought up my intimate features specifically. "Yes?"

Brody looked nervously to Pete, who took over the conversation. "Sam, your nipples... they're considerably larger than we expected."

"So?" I muttered, looking to the floor.

Brody protested, "No, no. Don't take it wrong. We love it. Especially me. I... I really do. But uh, we're trying to keep the theme as girl-next-door. Trying to represent the common girl. Your nipples are so unique, we think it detracts from that goal. We don't want people claiming we fetishized the nipples."

"Oh," I said. Were my nipples really that weird?

"And uh, in order to make that contract work, we'll need to amend it and have you sign it."

"Oh, okay. So... that means?"

Pete spoke again, "It means your long, exotic nipples will not be shared with the rest of the world, but everything else will. Yeah, this sounds egregious, but in order to protect ourselves from one of those lawsuits we previously discussed, we'll need to specify every deviation from your current pictures and scans."

"I see." Little did I know, this would be important later, but for different reasons than Pete was describing.

Once the scans were done, Pete came over again. I was trying to find a robe or anything to cover myself, but my clothes were in the changing room. "Okay, the last thing we need is the vaginal mold."

"What?" I screamed.

"Um, it's one of the most important bits, Sam, and it was detailed in the agreement you signed."

I should have read over that contract better. "Uh... how is it done?" I asked.

"In the past, Brody always handled it," said Pete. "And considering how special this project is, I would think he'd still prefer to run this one himself. However, we have other employees who are skilled enough to do it, I think." Pete made it sound as if making molds of vaginas was a common, everyday thing.

"No, if Brody is the most talented, he should do it."

And about an hour later, we started. "Would you like to put a shirt on?" asked Brody. "We're concentrating on your, uh, lower bits right now."

I smiled. I'd been out of my clothes for so long, it had stopped feeling awkward. Even the guys working in the room quit their lame attempts at modesty. They looked me up and down whenever it pleased them. But it felt almost normal, and I admit, it was fun. I enjoyed the positive glances and the boost in confidence that came with it. I was about to take Brody up on his offer to put on a shirt when I realized I would probably enjoy the experience more if I stayed undressed completely. I meekly said, "By this point, does it matter? I think Pete mentioned they want to do a couple more scans after this. I'm fine. How long will this take?"

"About an hour, maybe less. I will be applying this quick-drying cement-"

"Cement?" I shouted.

Brody smiled. "It's not like the cement you know... but this paste will dry, and then we will pull it gently off you using a bit of water pressure. There's nothing toxic or dangerous about this. I'll be doing it a new way I developed, where we cover your front and your back bits in one shot. Before we start, though, I'll need to take some pictures. Is that okay?"

"If it's necessary," I sighed. I knew this meant spreading my legs and baring it all. I was scared to think how wet I was down there right now.

But it was much, much worse than that. At first, Brody took close-ups of me standing, then with my legs apart at wider and wider intervals. "Now I need you to sit down here." He pointed to the backless stool. He knelt on the floor with the camera in hand, while I reluctantly sat directly in front of him. When he touched my knee, I quivered. Gently, he opened my right leg. "The other side, too," he whispered. He was a true professional by not mentioning the wet stain I was making on the seat. I propped my hands on the back of the stool to hold my balance, and this made my torso arch out. When Brody wasn't nose deep in my crotch, he'd look up and be less than a foot away from my tits. They ached to be squeezed.