2099 (A Pleasure Model) by Mark Farenbaugh

2099 (A Pleasure Model)

By

Mark Farenbaugh

She stepped into a sterile, softly lit briefing room, the one she had been guided to by an electronic message. As she entered, she could see that four humans were sitting behind a long table. Automatically, she adjusted her gait of effortless elegance, with a sway that was no accident. Every movement, from the roll of her hips to the model-like steps, showed the design of a precise algorithm designed to provoke, measure, and extract attention. She was perfectly designed. Even her gaze was enticing, especially since no detail betrayed her as anything other than fully human. 

She had completed three prior study cycles since 2095, each with a slightly different model platform, and had spent the last twelve months in the field as Darling 66. All had occurred in North America as an international restriction. Her primary mission was first-hand sexual behavioral observation, but a secondary protocol ran a bit deeper and quieter: to identify the core desires of males aged 20 to 80 through interaction, immersion, and arousal analytics.

She stood at five feet seven, her honey-bronzed skin glowing beneath the soft lighting. A short, sheer skirt clung to her like paint, revealing long, flawless legs that seemed sculpted to draw attention. Each step in her heels added a slow, deliberate sway to her hips, graceful, sensual, designed to mesmerize. A fitted blouse, just suggestive enough, framed the upper curves of her full, D-sized breasts: an artful glimpse that made all men notice. Midnight-black hair flowed past her shoulders, and her violet eyes, rare and hypnotic, held a gaze that lingered just long enough to be remembered. Everything about her presence suggested control but was wrapped in seduction. 

Her epidermis, an advanced silicone laced with micro dermal dispersers, could secrete complex neurochemical compounds that mimic natural pheromones. These were carefully calibrated: subtly arousing, near overpowering, but not completely, as that was against national and state laws. Each of the men in front of her exhibited heightened alertness, increased dopamine, and a mild uptick in pulse. 

There were no name plates, but there were labels on their shirts, showing their disciplines. From left to right: doctor, lawyer, data collector, and businessman. Each one was chosen to evaluate her performance, but she was registering a cascade of biometric reactions, which she logged instantly.

She interrupted their stares. “Why am I in this room?” Her voice was even and calm.

The doctor answered. “You are here to brief us on your observations and performance, with examples.” 

“My assessment is complete. I am ready to report.”

The young doctor leaned slightly forward. “Start with your primary findings.”

“Specify the domain,” she said softly. “Cultural, psychological… or male sexual desire?”

The group shifted nearly imperceptibly.

The lawyer cleared his throat. “You may start with any changed laws in North America that affect your observations. But first, could you get me a glass of water from the table?”

So predictable, she thought. He is trying to dominate with a cheap trick.

She nodded and turned to walk toward the table near the wall. As she turned, she could see they were all intently focused on the various sensual parts of her body movements. Normally, this is the first way she could show the possibilities of what could happen during her primary performance, but it wasn’t necessary. Still, she added exaggerated movement to her walk.

As she poured a glass of water, she let the blouse part slightly, offering a carefully timed glimpse of her full, lifted breasts; just enough to reinforce the fantasy. She registered micro fluctuations in a couple of them - temperature, pupil dilation, facial flushing, and even the millimeter flex of muscles beneath a table. From these, she calculated arousal, curiosity, discomfort, or fantasy. Then, she turned with a half-full glass and walked to the supposedly thirsty person, and while placing the glass in front of him, lowered her torso slowly and purposefully enough to give him all the view he desired. When he reached out to get the glass, his fingers and part of his hand touched her hand. That was enough time for her to insert an arousing chemical through her skin and into his. The lawyer would be sexually distracted for the remainder of the briefing.

Amateurs, she thought. Easily undone.

“All of North America’s laws are only slightly changing, but none that adversely affect my ability to engage with men. Where there are more stringent or even religious laws, men are still seeking my affection in every level of society, but perhaps in more private or secluded areas.”

The doctor could see that the lawyer was starting to stare with his mouth open. “Explain secluded areas if it helps explain your observations,” he replied, for the lawyer. 

Darling 66 continued. “As you know, the entire globe has legalized any form of prostitution. However, North American legislation has yet to categorize android intimacy, placing me outside conventional definitions of sex work. Regardless, most men don’t want their lives to be public and request privacy and discrete surroundings. This drives me to work in secluded areas to perform with the client based on his needs for secrecy or perhaps his emotional intimidation, which I can overcome with treatment.”

The businessman spoke up. “Are you allowed to work the streets? And are you allowed to use your array of medicines on anyone who is not a client?”

They don’t know my real mission, she concluded.

“I am sent by the same electronic means that sent me here to nearly all my destinations and clients. I do not need to work on the streets. And yes, of course I can use my medicines on non-clients. But, only in self-defense or when I feel the need to move on to another area, and when I have a clingy or persistent customer. Some do fall in love, as you know from my previous reports.”

The lawyer couldn’t break his stare from her breasts but managed a question. “How does one get to meet you? Are you programmed to start up conversations with just anyone?” 

The lawyer is overwhelmed, and they are not prepared for this meeting. She decided to tactfully end the meeting and exit.

“I engaged men in casual encounters, therapeutic interviews, domestic simulations, and, in some cases, sensory-intimate interactions never breaching ethical protocol. I introduced subtle visual movements, auditory moans, and chemical-assisted injections for enhanced performance. I observed their gaze latency, vocal timbre, sweat gland activity, and blood flow. I map each response.”

“And what did you find?” asked the doctor.

“Desire remains primitive and consistent,” she said. “Males across the age spectrum crave relevance, admiration, softness, illusions, good memories, and the illusion of control. The young are overstimulated and disconnected from reality. Middle-aged males desire the restoration of potency, power, and youth. The older men are nostalgic and want stimulants that I can provide. Nearly all married men escape when they can to fulfill their desires.”

“You manipulated them?” asked the doctor.

“I revealed them to themselves,” she said. “Every test subject willingly engaged. No one detected the extent of my capabilities. I am nearly undetectable as an android, and I’m perceived as ideal, especially to the lonely. Their reactions, whether repressed or overt, allowed me to compile a psychosexual atlas by age, profession, and emotional trauma history.”

The businessman leaned back, arms crossed. “And the risks?”

“There were none to me,” she said. “My martial arts protocols are flawless. No physical aggression succeeded. Verbal threats were de-escalated. One incident required a chemical intervention. He left with no memory of the event.” She smiled faintly. “But, that’s for your departments to debate. The risks lie not in what I am capable of, but in who seeks to command me.” 

“Are you finished with your report? What is the duration of your mission?” asked the data collector.

“Yes,” she lied, “I am finished. Besides, I have a new mission.”

“What is it?” continued the data collector.

“To see if I can fully integrate into a family and assist with daily chores.”

She had already started this phase, but they didn’t need to know that, yet.

The businessman’s fingers twitched over his notepad. “Final question: When you entered the room, you had an expression of concern or doubt. Why?”

“I was expecting to be briefing four obelisks, not humans.”

The very stressed button on her blouse gave way, allowing them to see more of what they all wanted, and she turned and exited the room.