The Fuckbot Diaries

I open my eyes but I already know where I am from checking the feed. Shithole motel room in a shithole town on a shithole planet. Lucky me.

"Hey, baby." He's old and fat and smiling. A real smile, warm and tender, that shows in his eyes and chubby cheeks. It tells me he wants more than just a fuck. I run a CumSystem check. Rydal Spillane, 68, retired terraforman, recently widowed, no known deviancies. This fat fuck wants love.

I give him the melty look: Dewy eyes, softened features, slightly parted lips. "Hi, honey," I purr. His heart rate is accelerating, his sweat production increases by 7%. I lean forward, nestle my long hair against his neck. "It's so nice to be here with you."

His hand on my shoulder, wrinkled and calloused. Terraforming is a rough job if you're in the field. His wife should have got him into hand lotion, kept those mitts smooth. I lift my face, smile at him, move in for the kiss. Chaste, no tongue. Let him initiate more if he wants. I'm going to be a good girl tonight, not a slut. Pity.

I make sighs and moans, perfectly calibrated to excite him. Heart rate is elevated but steady, which is good. Last thing I need is another cardiac corpse on my record. His erection is at 67%. Either I'm not turning him on enough or he needs chemical assistance. I don't really give a shit if it's the former, it's not like my feelings are gonna get hurt. And if it's the latter, I have plenty of things to slip him without his knowing.

I move from sitting next to him on the bed onto his lap, arms loosely draped around his thick, perspiring neck. My eyes are closed as we kiss but I can see everything in the feed. All these cheap motels have cameras, either in case of liability or just so the owners can get off.

My ass, jiggly and all-organic, is lightly pressed against his lap, which should have him at least 90% erect, but he's still a good 15 points shy. I lightly touch my fingertips to the back of his neck and inject him with a SubStim, 75mg of EZ-UP. He doesn't feel a thing, of course, except for the sensation of blood flowing to his sad old prick.

His mouth is finally open and we're spit-sharing now. I don't mind kissing, but it's awkward not knowing when I should slip him the tongue. Lately, my clients have all been sick pervs who wanted to do fucked up shit. My soft romance game is a little rusty.

"Can I call you Tania?" he says as we kiss. I look through his data. Not his wife's name, thank fuck, that would be painful. There's a Tania Forbes listed in his graduating high school class, half a century ago. An old sweetheart, then. Or a crush he never had the nerve to move on.

"Sure, baby," I say, sweet as can be. "I'm Tania and I really like kissing you a lot." I don't, but I also don't hate it. I've deactivated my olfactory centers because men his age tend to smell of decay. If he has bad breath, I don't know it.

My tits are 34D cups, firm and big, but not ridiculous. (My last client requested 40DD and those were just silly. Made for good titfucking, though.) I press myself against his chest, let him feel my hard nipples, and he sighs heavily. The EZ-UP has him rock hard now, shouldn't be too much longer before we get the fucking going. I'm looking forward to that because I can zone out while he does his thing and catch up on my entertainment. There's three new episodes of Seduction Planet to watch.

"Oh, Tania," he moans into my mouth, "I love you, baby. So much. I never stopped thinking about you."

This is getting icky. I'd much rather he skullfucked me hard until I puke than made me talk about feelings. The trick now is hurrying him along to the sex stuff without seeming too slutty and eager. Can't break his fantasy or I risk a bad review.

"I love you too, baby," I whisper, grinding subtly in his lap. "I've missed you." I make some necessary adjustments: body warmth up 8%, pussy stink up 11%. On second thought, I jack my cuntstench up another 15%. He's old, who knows how good his sense of smell is anyway.

His tongue moves into my mouth -- good sign! And now, oh yes, his hands slide down my back. I lean into him, give him some access to my butt, and he takes the hint, cupping my cheeks. I moan and purr in an "I'm your good girl getting hot" way, as opposed to the "I'm a fuckpig who'll do anything" way. He gives my ass a good squeeze.

"God," he says, "it feels so real."

Um, dude, it is real. My ass is straight up genuine human flesh. Even if it was grown in a lab. But I don't say that, of course. Instead I push my perfect tushy back against his hands, dance my tongue with his, then whisper, "I want you to make love to me."

"Oh, yes," he rasps, "yes, Tania, I want that. So much." Well, about time. Little miss fuckbot has some entertainment to watch!