Real Woman Robot

I watch her move as she combs her hair in front of the mirror of our bathroom. If I live with her for the rest of my life, I will never get tired of watching her move. She’s the first fully human, non bionic real woman I’ve ever been around and she chose me! I still can’t believe that she is with me now and wants to stay.

I am upper middle class with a good job and enough money to be comfortable. Most guys in my situation have no problem acquiring the higher end female robots called XYBots. The tagline on advertisements for them is So Real even a doctor wouldn’t know without an exam. These bots breathe, sweat and have all the other signs of being human. The only difference is they have a battery that must be charged once a month. They can even eat, but then there is a clean up process that is not necessarily a positive experience, so it isn’t recommended.

I’ve had a bot before. I enjoyed having her for a long time. We went out, had fun, moved in together, had lots of great sex and I found myself forgetting that she wasn’t human. That is until I found her somewhere, motionless, and had to charge her batteries. It’s a real boner killer. Because I couldn’t stop being creeped out by her occasional need to be plugged in, I decided to end the relationship and return her to the factory. They tried to get me to consider buying their newest model, the XYSunBot. This model was solar powered, so she never had a moment when she didn’t seem real. I politely declined and went home to fill out an application for a real woman.

Real Women are For the Rich and Handsome

Real women are difficult to acquire by guys like me. There aren’t that many left and even fewer who are willing to enter into a traditional relationship. Most of those that are willing have their pick of desperate men and choose the very rich or men with other favorable attributes. Any man can apply to get one, but they choose very few from the middle class. I submitted my application and waited. Three weeks later, I got a reply. A real woman wanted me! I couldn’t believe my luck. The email told me that she would be at Grand Central Station in a few days and how to find her.

Things Moved Fast

I went to pick her up in my best clothes. On the way, I worried that she wouldn’t like what I could provide or she would think I didn’t look good enough. Natural women could have anyone they wanted these days. But there she was, waiting for me. I knew her by the picture that I received with the email. “Hi, I’m .., ” I said and gave her my name as I hugged her. She smiled at me and it was radiant. She was almost hot to my touch. Naturals were so warm!

She had long blonde hair, blue eyes and wore a yellow summer dress. Tall and thin, she looked as though she had held a tennis racket for much of her life. I was in love with her before we got to my car. This was good, because things between us moved fast after that. She was sharing my bed that night. I loved the feel of her. I made a point of touching her neck to feel her pulse and noticed how her heart rate changed when I kissed her and worshiped her body. We settled into great sex and getting to know each other.

Hi My Name Is …

That’s how we got here, now, six months later, standing in the bathroom together. I feel like I’ve loved her forever. She is my perfect mate. She is smiling at me in the mirror as I am telling her about meeting a client at work. It’s a long story and I’m very animated as I  describe my search for the restaurant and then for him among the tables.

I finally find the guy, I said, looking back at her in the mirror, and I walk up to him and hold out my hand and say “Hi, my name is … ” As I said my name to her, her face changes. It literally goes blank. I watch, in horror, a process I’ve seen many times. She’s rebooting. I realize that I’ve just said the exact same phrase I said to her the first time I talked to her. That must trigger her to start over. Finally, she smiles at me and introduces herself. I walk up behind her and quietly part her hair. There, on her scalp, are the tiny solar panels.

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