Recruitment is a task for corporations and pimps

“Miss Kelly?” you call out from the door. Which takes you by surprise since you didn’t know you were going to say anything. And also because though there are only two women visible in the reception of Illumination Laboratories you don’t know the names of either.

The young woman sitting and reading the magazine in one of the lobby’s plush pale blue chairs stands and walks over to you.

You’d estimate she’s a year or two younger than you. She’s a tall blonde with pale skin in a plain grey business jacket, button-up white blouse, matching grey pencil skirt, and white stockings. You came here for a paid and undefined science experiment, but this woman looks like she’s dressed for a job interview. Her blonde hair is short but coiffed in a style that makes you think of a 1950s starlet. Her figure would be boyish if her very narrow waist (is she maybe wearing a corset?!) didn’t give her curves despite her flat-chest and slim hips. The grey of her jacket is relieved by a rainbow flag pin badge worn above her heart.

"Hello, Miss Kelly," you address the woman, shaking her hand. "I am John, Dr. Weishaupt's assistant."

Another surprise. Nobody told you your days of unemployment were over, but it looks like you now work for Illumination Laboratories and a man you _may _have seen briefly on a screen (before getting fucked by a robot). Score one for the woman with the Masters in Gender Studies. Today keeps getting better and better!

"Hello, I’m Miss Kelly." She confirms as she smiles back at you politely. Her lips are naturally pouting, but her smile is easy on her face with its high cheekbones. The beauty-spot on her left cheek just increases the impression of some time-traveller from the glamorous past. Her smile suddenly grows warmer and more genuine. “But you can call me Chrys!”

Chrys Kelly. Not the forename on her birth certificate. She chose the name Chrys because it was androgenous. You know a surprising amount about this stranger. The basics of her biography and the details of her sex life.

How much detail? Her most recent orgasm was achieved last night at 11:12 with her bisexual college soccer player girlfriend. It followed eleven minutes of slow gentle foreplay and six minutes of furious sweaty tribbing. This is her second long-term relationship with a woman. She’s never has sex with (or even romantically kissed) a man, and apart from her two longer-term relationships Chrys has had three other brief casual sexual relationships with women. She and her girlfriend have only been able to achieve orgasm through tribadism in the last two months. Coincidentally the same length of time Chrys has unknowingly been off her birth control, which she mostly used to regulate her periods.

She’s never been fucked by a robot, relentlessly mechanically penetrated while she writhes with orgasms until she collapses. Poor bitch. She’s basically a virgin.

"Please, follow me," you say, outwardly betraying none of your excessive knowledge or pity.

You lead your charge through a series of winding corridors. You've never been down them before, but you know with unerring confidence where you must go. You and Chrys chat as you walk. Or, in truth, Chrys does most of the talking and you answer noncommittally. The woman has charm and enough enthusiasm for three women as she talks. Naive as well as basically a virgin, but you can imagine a world in which she becomes a congress woman or some such.

It turns out Chrys has been on at least one of the same Slut Walks as you, but her main passion is the environment. You’re beginning to believe that her desire to change the world is a lot more genuine than your feminism when you reach your destination. You stop outside of an unassuming room and turn to the tall but petite blonde with a smile. Your smile is genuine; you’ve only known her a short time but already you’re fond of Chrys. You like the pretty young thing, and so you really hope her cunt gets as thoroughly and mechanically fucked as yours.

"The doctor will meet with you shortly. As part of our interview process, you will need to complete a short survey first. It will be pulled up on the computer inside this room. We will need you to be perfectly honest with us. Don't try to tell us what you think we want to hear."

You've heard almost the same words before and now you're saying them. And you still don't know whether Chrys has been told this is a science experiment or the prelude to a job interview.

Chrys nods her understanding, and says "Okay". You open the door for her and she enters. You close the door and lock it. Then the ordinary looking door turns transparent and you can see Chrys looking at you with an anxious expression. She must have heard the lock turn. She shakes her head, swallows, and turns away. You realize that she can’t see you. The door isn’t really transparent, it’s yet another screen.

The room Chrys is in is identical to the one you took your own survey in. It’s illuminated only by the glowing screen of the computer on the desk. Chrys regains her composure and walks confidently to it, taking a seat before the digital questionnaire.

As soon as she sits the screen-slash-door you’re looking at her through brings up a picture-in-picture. You can Chrys’s face from the perspective of the computer screen in front of her. There must be a concealed camera. Then about two-dozen other much smaller picture-in-pictures appear from every angle, including two upskirts, and three in what must be infra-red. Unlike you Chrys is wearing panties: raunchy black lace. Medical data appears too, showing Chrys’s heart rate, blood pressure, skin conductivity and pupil dilation among dozens of other readings you don’t understand.

You make the obvious connection to your own survey in an identical room. You’re not stupid. There exists a recording from more than twenty different angles of you being brought to screaming orgasms by a machine fucking you from behind. You need to get hold of that recording. That is grade A+ secret porn stash material.

As Chrys settles and begins to read the first survey question a soft chime sounds on your side of the door-that’s-actually-a-screen. To one side of you a concealed hatch opens and reveals a chrome object. You’ve just realised it’s a very shiny double-dildo, when suddenly it’s illuminated by a dozen internal lights. Status lights? Fuck, this thing is a robot, a robot that can fuck! One hand is already under your skirt, preparing your pussy, while the other is reaching for the sexy machine. You need to get fucked by it, because nothing gives you pleasure like a machine, and much more importantly somehow you know that's what it wants.

You have one foot planted high on the wall, as moaning with lust you thrust your superior metal lover into your cunt, when you turn back to watch Chrys answer her survey questions.