The FembotIn the not-distant future, women are nothing more than a commodity to be traded and programmed for a single purpose.

Andrea is special. She’s all-natural. But before Mr. Raynor purchased her, she was also brilliant, stubborn, and kind. The medical procedure took care of all that, and now she has one thing on her mind — pleasing.

In the world of the ultra-wealthy, she’s a cute toy, a one-of-the-kind experience. But one man wants her. Not as she was, not as she could be, but as she is.

A Dark Dystopian Romance!

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Chapter 1

The dark vehicle drove up to the estate’s manor quite circumspectly in the morning, prior to the any of the festivity setup. The men in the car got out and escorted the shrouded individual up the stairs, their identity completely hidden.

Together, they guided the trio into the back of the manor where a middle-aged man with stark, black, backswept hair met them in an antique-looking study. The walls were lined with mahogany bookshelves, and leather-bound books of the paper variety, which were out of fashion for the modern era.

“It’s all ready, then?” asked the well-dressed man.

He poured some amber liquor into a glass and taking a sip as he eyed the figure in the shroud, unable to make out any of his or her features.

“She’s all good to go, Sir,” responded the shorter, more portly of the two men.

He pulled back the black mask and cloak that hid the woman beneath.

“A miracle of modern science,” he declared.

She was scandalously dressed, wearing nothing more than high heels, black stockings, a thong and a bra.

Mr. Raynor stepped around her, sizing her up very slowly. She had changed considerably since he’d seen her last. Not a total revision of her appearance, but many accentuations… corrections.

“And she’s had no plastic surgery?”

The dapper, cold man studied her round backside, her sumptuous cheeks devouring the thread of the thong wholesale. He let his steely gaze slip to her front, where the bra was barely able to contain the enhanced endowments of her breasts.

“It seems hard to believe,” he remarked, drinking yet more of the liquor.

“I assure you, it’s all done with hormone treatments, exercise and behavioural therapy,” the portly man responded with a certain amount of pride. “The young lass was treated to a regimen of specific hormones tailored for her physique — and your specifications, Sir — ” he added with a nod and a smile to his employer. “Then we put her through the behavioural programs.”

The other man stepped forward and pointed towards the motionless woman, standing with half-lidded eyes, a hazy smile on her face as she, soaked up the attention with but a subtle shift of her weight from one long, shapely leg to the other.

“Our psychologists created the program from countless historical and contemporary studies on the malleability of the human mind. Through it, she was moulded into a more perfect woman, Sir,” he said. “Nothing remains of the woman she once was. Nothing.”

The portly fellow reached over and gave her supple ass cheek a pinch, but the woman didn’t respond.

“She is unrestrained. The hormones coursing through her and the psychological treatment do it all. She shall be a loyal, ah… servant… until the end of her days.”

“Why does she look so… glazed over?”

Mr. Raynor paced around the statuesque woman, scrutinizing the young lady’s every asset, her every feature. He was unable to find a single flaw to complain about.

“She’s just waiting for your activation,” the two declared at once before the portly one glared at the other and finished explaining. “Once you’re ready to start her new life, just prick her with this,” he said, offering a small cylinder. “It’ll just adjust her hormone levels for active service, and then you can command her as you will for your pleasure.”

Mr. Raynor took the cool, metal cylinder and studied it before placing it upon his desk.

“She’s not for me,” he explained, taking another hard look at the busty, glazed-over bimbo. “A gift for my son. He’s graduating from university, and it’s his celebratory party tonight.” He sat back down at his desk, hitting a few buttons on the touchscreen before him. “And he always did have a thing for the lady here, though she refused his advances.”

The two men shifted on their feet, then nodded.

“Lucky boy,” stated the large one.

“Poor girl’s family fell on hard times. Bad luck for her, but good luck for my son,” he remarked with a smile. “The money is transferred, Gentlemen. A pleasure doing business with you.”

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