The Rise Of The Sex Robots

Author's Note: This Story is a spinoff of the series "Marcus Bleak and the Sex Robots". Even though a few characters in this tale appear in the series, it can be regarded as a stand alone story.

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Amsterdam International Teleport,Amsterdam

Tuesday, 06 September, 2050

10:38

There was a low rumble as the building shook from the tremendous power surge that preceded the bright flash in one of the teleportation tubes on the second floor. The thick, voluptuous figure of Chiamaka materialised in the previously empty tube, her trip from Lagos as quick and as simple as flicking on a light switch. The tube's glass door slid slowly open and the well built prostitute walked into the terminal, her heart fluttering. She couldn't believe she had finally arrived. Teleportation terrified her but she was desperate to start her search for her sister. Adanna had come to Amsterdam a decade before her to become a sex worker but after five years of continuously sending her holographic messages she had suddenly stopped. Chiamaka could not understand why she would suddenly just stop communicating with her. What had happened? She had to find her.

She went to a different teleportation tube to collect her luggage and then made her way to the taxi bay. As she walked through the crowd of travellers people turned to stare at her. Despite her size she was a looker and her exaggerated curves trembled and wobbled under her flimsy short dress. She wasn't self conscious. You didn't get far in her line of work if you were.

She walked to the closest taxi and the trunk automatically opened. She put in her luggage and walked round to get in the back as the trunk shut again. The back door swung skywards and she got in. She slid her Mastercard into a slot under a display system in front of her and a mechanical voice asked her destination.

"De Wallen," she answered tiredly. The display lit up with a map and a red dot started blinking which Chiamaka assumed was her taxi. The door hissed shut and the taxi pulled out into the traffic. It drove automatically through the streets and she could watch her progress on the map as the dot moved across the screen. She sat back on the plush leather seats, her eyes closed. I'm coming, darling sister, she thought.

I'm coming.

Oude Kerk, De Wallen, Red-light district of Amsterdam,

11:30

Chiamaka stared with tears in her eyes at the bronze statue of a woman in a doorway. The inscription said: "Respect sex workers all over the world." All her life she had been ridiculed and despised, forced to endure the revulsion of others because of her profession and yet here was a statue erected in her honour. This was a city far ahead of any other in the world. At last she could see a place she could call home, a place where she would find others like her, a place where she would be loved and adored.

What was so wrong with prostitution? All she did was sell her own body, she had never hurt anybody and if she hurt herself in the process it was her choice. What made what she did for a living so terrible? Every woman engaged in prostitution, the currency and technique only differed. At least she was honest enough to call herself a sex worker. She was proud of her job. Women sold their souls and bodies everyday for money, diamonds, clothes, shoes, favours and even affection. They just didn't stand on the corner to do it. What made them any holier than she was? At least she didn't pretend to be anything else.

What annoyed her the most was that some of the men who required her services despised her too. They had no qualms about carrying out their sick, perverted fantasies with her but they would all put on the cloak of respectability once it was over. They didn't care for her feelings and called her names like she wasn't even human. Then they would all go home to their wives and act like the perfect husbands. It was amusing anytime she ran into one of them in the cinema complex or at the mall with his better half in toe. She would see the sudden panic in his eyes and he would quickly avert his gaze hoping she wouldn't acknowledge him. But why should she? She was a whore who was only interested in his money. That was the beauty of girls like her. You could fuck her all you want and not worry about her falling in love and ratting you out to your wife. She was a professional.

De Wallen or De Walletjes is the largest and best known red-light district in Amsterdam and a major tourist attraction.

The bronze statue called Belle was made by Els Rijerse and unveiled on the Oudekerksplein in front of the Oude Kerk at the open day in March 2007. Chiamaka had found where she belonged.

Then she noticed her.

Chiamaka thought she was the only one standing there in the pouring rain staring up at the statue but now she could see she was no longer alone. Another lady stood nearby about ten feet from where she was and was staring right at her. At first Chiamaka thought she was just a tourist but then she noticed her provocative clothing and decided she must be a hooker like her. Why was she staring at her? Was she just looking at another fallen woman like her? She had strong African features and was well built like her but her face was far prettier. In fact her face looked perfect. Her huge pretty eyes continued to watch her unblinkingly and Chiamaka felt spooked. There was no expression on the lady's face yet she felt something emanating from her, a certain aura of malevolence like that of a poised cobra. Suddenly Chiamaka recognized who she was.

What it was.

A sex robot was staring right at her. She shuddered and felt goose bumps break out over her dark skin. She hated sex robots. They were the rage now and were stealing business from human prostitutes like her. Johns preferred them because they could take all sorts of punishment, didn't give them diseases and never got tired. Also men had the impression that they were not cheating on their wives when they had sex with these sex robots. They said it was no different than masturbation while playing with dolls. They weren't common back in Africa where they were regarded as taboo but in other parts of the world their popularity was growing. It wouldn't be long until they completely phased out human prostitutes from the streets.

Chiamaka wondered why the sex robot was staring at her. She wasn't alive so why was she looking at her with such interest? It creeped her out that a soulless machine was watching her for no apparent reason. Chiamaka glared at her and turned to leave. After walking for a while she turned back to look at her.

She was gone.

The Bird Of Prey Bar,

De Wallen

18:42

The first point of call was to meet a pimp named Ganja. He was so named because of his wild, erratic behaviour and his addiction to the wide selection of choice weed to be found in the cafes of Amsterdam. A Nigerian immigrant he had escaped his country during the second civil war which split the country along religious lines. Now he was the go to contact for most African girls looking to make a career in prostitution in Amsterdam.

Chiamaka called his contact number and a gruff but jovial voice directed her to a seedy bar in the Red Light District. The bar was frequented by pimps and human prostitutes well past their sell by date. When she walked nervously through the door she noticed the place was filled with cigarette smoke. She also perceived the lingering odour of despair and desperation. This was where women like her, seduced by the fantasy of a better life, came to sell their souls. She redialled the number and saw a short fellow perched on a bar stool pick up his phone which was lying on the counter.

"Hello?" His voice was a lazy drawl with a hint of menace in it. Chiamaka shivered.

"Ganja, it's me, Chiamaka," she said. "I just entered the bar."

He glanced over his shoulder and saw her. She watched as he quickly appraised her with small, dark eyes then he waved her over. She walked quickly over to him and took the bar stool offered to her. She was very aware of eyes following her every movement and she knew her bulbous bottom spilling over the stool must have been quite a view. Ganja offered to buy her a drink and she settled for a beer. He was having a bottle of Guinness and judging from the empty bottles next to him he had had quite a few. Chiamaka selected a picture on her mobile and clicked 3D Display. The image of her sister Adanna standing on a beach in a tiny bikini began to rotate in different angles, even showing her back view. She handed over the mobile to Ganja who appreciatively watched the display.

"I think I've seen her before but it must have been many years ago before the sex robot craze really took off. I think she was one of the hottest human hookers around and boy, did she know how to fuck! Johns were lining round the corner for a taste of her snatch. You would think her pussy was lined with gold or something."

Chiamaka suppressed her displeasure at the way this stranger was talking about her sister like she was just a piece of fuck meat. Who was she kidding anyway? Her sister WAS just a piece of fuckmeat in this town and so was she.

"When last did you hear from her?" he asked, still leering at the pic.

"Five years ago."

Ganja turned to look at her with surprise.

"And you just decided to look for her now?"

Chiamaka immediately felt ashamed.

"The truth is I always felt jealous of her and it is not uncommon for family members to lose interest in their folks back home. I thought she had started to forget about me and I was angry for a long time. I later decided that I at least had to confront her and ask her why she didn't communicate with me for so long."

"Huh. Five years is a long time."

"I know."

"Well, I think you will have to go to Club Afrika and make your enquiries there. That club handles pretty much all the African girls that come into town. The owner Mr. Jide is like the ultimate pimp but you wouldn't know it. He's got a photographic memory and if your sister has passed through his club he would remember her. Also they've got camera's and shit so he would have records. Then of course if she happened to have been seen by any of the sex robots working in the club, she would easily be remembered. Her image would be stored in the whore's C.P.U."

"Then I need to get over there," she said excitedly.

"Easy girl," he drawled. "There's no rush. Do you have a place to sleep?"

"Er... not yet."

"Good. Then you can bunk with me and tomorrow I can take you personally to the club."

Chiamaka didn't like that idea at all. She knew for certain that Ganja would spend most of the night fucking her brains out. However she was desperate and she needed him to help her out. She could easily handle one guy even two.

"Okay," she said. "But we have to go tomorrow."

He shrugged. "Sure thing." He reached out a hand and cupped a large breast.

"Drink up and let's go," he said with a nasty grin. "There are so many things I want to do to you."

Aurora Hotel,

De Wallen

20:22

They both walked into the lobby and Ganja signalled one of the men behind the counter. He nodded and walked away. Ganja took her wrist and dragged her towards where there were some seats. That part of the lobby was submerged in darkness.

"My pad is undergoing some renovation," he said breezily. "I'll take you my favourite hotel room instead. Someone is just checking to make sure it's spick and span."

Chiamaka didn't believe his pad, if he had one, was undergoing any renovation and she was sure that this room was probably where he got to take advantage of girls like her. She wasn't complaining. She had been used all her life and she was now apathetic to it.

Ganja sat down on a chair and pulled her unto his lap. She was a bit surprised at his boldness but she got a real shock when he stuck his hand under her dress which was hiked up almost to her waist. He used his elbow to nudge her knees apart and she felt his fingers draw the fabric of her panties to one side. Soon they wear prodding and stroking her pussy.

She gasped and tried to close her legs but he was already deep within her folds and tweaking her clitoris. She let out an excited moan and felt her privates begin to flood. She held on to the wrist of the invading hand but didn't make any move to pull it out from under her dress. Soon the wet sounds of finger fucking filled the quiet lounge. Chiamaka was sure that the porters could hear the wet noises and the guttural moans that were being forced from her mouth. Anyone could just walk in and see them. It might be dark but they weren't inconspicuous.

"Mmmmm, you really do have an excellent pussy, don't you?" he asked.

She moaned helplessly in reply.

"It's clamping on my fingers!" he exclaimed then laughed. "Really hot and wet. I can't wait to fill it up with my dick. Do you take it up the ass!"

"Ugh!"

"I'll take that as a yes. So you better be prepared, Babe. Because by the time I'm through with you, your ass is gonna be redder than Rudolph's nose!"

The porter came back and handed Ganja the key. He seemed unfazed that a heavily stacked slut was being molested in front of him.

"Thank you, Brian," said Ganja as the man excepted his tip and walked away. He pulled out his fingers from Chiamaka's pussy and raised them to her face.

"Lick it," he ordered gruffly. Chiamaka obeyed and hungrily sucked off her juices from his fingers. "Now we go upstairs."

Ganja wasn't a subtle man. He groped her huge ass all the way upstairs anddown the corridor to his room and he showed no interest in helping her carry her bags. As soon as they got in he went straight into the bathroom.

"I'm just gonna take a piss," he called out. "When I come out I want to see you stark naked."

Chiamaka sighed to herself and began to strip. She took off her clothes and hung them in the closet. By the time she had unclasped her lacy bra and was wriggling out of her panties Ganja had come out of the bathroom to watch her. He grinned appreciatively at her pendulous boobs capped with thick, dark nipples. She saw him grope the front of his jeans and was taken aback by the huge bulge that strained against the tight fabric.

"Mmmm, nice," he purred. "Now turn around and bend over, girl. I wanna see your asshole and those thick pussy lips."

Chiamaka turned around and held her knees. She felt her ass crack open wide and she heard a moan of appreciation. Two hands grabbed her huge, black butt cheeks and spread them further apart. Ganja took his time appraising her privates.

"Okay," he said at last. "Time for you to suck my dick. Make sure you do a good job and get rid of that long face. You should be happy that I am helping you out. I expect you to have a smile on your face even with my cock stuck up your poop chute."

"Okay," she mumbled and made an effort to zone out. She put on her professional smile even though her eyes looked dead. Right now she was just a piece of fuck meat to be used and abused. She had no claims to her dignity. That had been ransomed long ago along with her soul. Right now she was just a cum vessel, a sex doll.

My God, she thought.

She was just like a sex robot. Nothing differentiated her from those cybernetic monsters. She was just a toy like they were. A toy for men to use and throw away.

Ganja sat on the bed and unbuckled his belt. He pulled down his zipper and opened his fly. Chiamaka looked on in trepidation as he reached into his underpants and pulled out his penis. She stared at it, her mouth literally hung open in disbelief. It was HUGE! The thing looked be about ten inches easy and it wasn't even fully erect. It looked as thick as a coke can. That thing would tear her in two!

He heard her gasp and he looked up, pleased to see the shock on her face.

"Massive, isn't it," he drawled. "It's put many a cunt like you in hospital. I really hope you can take it because I tend to get carried away when I am overly excited."

Chiamaka gulped, her eyes transfixed on the cockhead. She seemed rooted to the spot.

"On your knees, bitch... NOW!"

Chiamaka shook herself out of her reverie and tentatively walked over to wear he sat. She dropped to her knees and reached out to touch the beast which was wide awake and snarling at her. She barely got her fingers around it and it felt scalding hot. The cock jumped suddenly when their skin came into contact, the veins that snaked round the shaft throbbing angrily. She leaned forward slowly till her thick African lips pressed against the huge dome of his dickhead. She felt the heat on her face and the stale smell of dried urine assailed her nostrils. Stoically she parted her lips and tried to wrap them round the bulbous head. It was an arduous task despite having a naturally big mouth. Slowly she took more and more of the cock in her mouth despite her lips being stretched till they were like as thin as a Caucasian's. Her eyes were nearly squeezed shut and tears ran freely down her cheeks. And she had barely gotten the head in her mouth.

Ganja became impatient and grabbed the back of her head with two hands and began to force it in. Terrified she leaned forward and relaxed her throat, aligning her neck so that the invading cock could have an easier passage. Still she began to gag and made deep, guttural noises. At first it looked like the bastard had every intention of suffocating her but he let her pull her head off before she choked. He watched in disdain as she retched on the floor.

"You filthy whore," he said in disgust and slapped her hard across the face, "You're gonna clean that up later. That's why I prefer sex robots. They don't have any gag reflex and can take my arm going down their throats. I hope you are not this wimpy when it's time to fuck you in the ass. Get on with it!"

Chiamaka regained her composure and went down on him again. This time it was easier for her. First time around she was trying to get a feel of his cock but now she knew how to tilt her head to take it all in. The dick pushed all the way down her throat but she managed not to gag and started to bob her head up and down. She could barely move her tongue. Her mouth was that stuffed and her jaw was already aching.

Ganja grunted and groaned as she sucked his cock. It seemed to get hotter and larger with each thrust and Chiamaka was afraid her head would split open. Soon saliva was dripping out of her mouth and dripping on her fat, swinging breasts. She pulled out to lick his shaft and huge balls, getting a welcome respite from the torture. He seemed to enjoy this a lot and he writhed and moaned as she teased the head and the slit. She also expertly stroked his dick with her hands and he seemed very close. It was a skill she perfected. She had had a lot of experience masturbating her uncle and his friends when she was little so she knew exactly where to touch and how much pressure was required to get them off.

Her plan worked. Soon Ganja gave a strangled gasp and his cock erupted in her face. She was amazed at the amount of spunk that flew at her. It went into her eyes, nose and mouth, filling it till it poured down her chin and splattered on her boobs. Then he aimed it at her neck and chest and coated them as well. By the time he had finished jerking she looked like a glazed chocolate doughnut.

He flopped back on the bed, panting like he had just ran a three minute mile.

"Man, that was awesome," he croaked. "I nearly snapped my spinal cord when I came. I gotta catch my breath then I'm gonna fuck you silly."

She got up to go to the bathroom.

"Where you going, bitch?" he snarled. "Let it dry on you. I like the way you look anyway. Now get on the bed and present your ass to me. I want you on all fours like the dog you are."

Chiamaka did as she was told and climbed the bed next to where he lay. She leaned forward and resting her head on her folded arms, her massive bottom sticking in the air. She waited nervously for him to violate her.