A perfect fuck doll.

The human form you see on the monitor lies motionless on some sort of bench with a white padded surface, stretched out with arms by its sides. The eyes are wide open, unblinking as they stare up. It is impossible to judge the ethnicity of the figure, the skin colour and face shape could easily be Latina, Asian, light-skinned African or even Mediterranean in origin, or a mixture of all of these. There is no uncertainty about the gender though, the body is the most feminine form you could imagine.

You want to screw your eyes shut, to block out the image of what the old man has told you is your new body, to process the information without being **** to constantly observe it, but of course, you cannot. You cannot really judge the height of the body with nothing in the monitor to compare it against, but the slimness of the limbs and delicate features of the face suggest a petite stature. The facial features are young, childlike and almost impossibly angelic, the beautiful face framed by fine straight hair as black as pitch in a straight fringed long bobbed style. The curves of the body though are far from childlike, with full breasts, a tiny waist and flaring hips to give an **** hourglass figure.

The unmoving female form is nude, a disturbing fact given that the old man is close by, but out of shot. The honey-coloured skin is unblemished, only deepening to a dark caramel on the lips, arolea and nipples and on the pubic mound and labia. Those lips are full and sensuous, the nipples large and erect and the hairless mons is prominent with the crease of the outer labial lips appearing as a tightly clenched fold.

"What the fuck?" Your voice carries none of the emotional venom and shock of your thoughts and you notice that those perfect lips do not move. "Why the fuck would you make a body looking like that? It looks like a fuck doll."

"Of course it does, that is its function," The old man replies without any apology as if that was completely reasonable. "Of course, it would have been preferable to have a female mind to animate the synthetic, but beggars cannot be choosers and you were the first subject that became available that could be easily acquired with the right criteria."

"What? What criteria?" You ask the question should have sounded **** and alarmed, but it comes out as an emotionless and neutral enquiry. "What fucking criteria could I possibly fit to be given that body?"

"Well, nothing of your making actually." The man explains patiently, if a little distracted. "Just a question of circumstance, no close family or friends to object to you being declared brain dead and removed from life support and the fact that it was a police officer's bullet that put you there means the authorities will not question it either. Sad to say that your presumed passing will be a simple footnote that the criminal wounded during a recent robbery attempt died of his wounds. A sealed coffin straight to the crematorium and all evidence of my medical excision neatly incinerated."

"So you see how perfectly circumstance worked out, at least from my point of view." The old man's callous attitude infuriates you. "As far as the rest of the world is concerned you are dead and gone up in smoke. Case closed and some folder or computer file moved to archives."

"But enough of this idle chatter." The monitor is pushed back out of your view and the man looms over you once more. "I have tests to run on mind and body integration."