Melanie barely pauses in front of the bio metric scanner as she enters the museum for the day. As a joke, they still kept an old factory time clock by the front door, complete with punch cards for each member of the staff. But like most everything else in the museum, it was only a testament to a more primitive age.
The scanner gives a pleasant hum, acknowledging that DNA molecules in her breath have been verified and the system acknowledges that she should, in fact, be at the museum today.
“Good Morning, Melanie”, a voice chimes.
“Morning, Otto!”
Ok, so technically the pleasing tenor belonged to Automatic Museum Operations Unit 2303, younger brother to similar units currently running the Met, the Smithsonian and Louvre (and all other museums in the world, if we’re getting right down to it). But Melanie had decided early in her tenure at the museum that AMOU (the designation used by most of the staff) felt too impersonal. If the AI system could adopt a nice male voice when it spoke to her, she could take the effort to give him a name. A short brainstorm later and Automatic had morphed to Otto. She’d yet to hear anyone else use the name, but she felt it had helped her grow closer to the AI.
“What’s on the schedule for today?” She asks the system, walking towards her office. Somewhere deep in the basement, a quantum drive gives a puff of heat while checking her request, then deciding to be thorough, it checks all schedules past and future, then rechecks just in case. With no discernible delay, Otto is back.
“A fairly light day for programming. At noon, there’s a educational session in the special exhibit. We’re expecting quite a crowd.”
The briefest hint of a frown flashes on Melanie’s face. Ah, the special exhibit, she thinks. Wallowing in our past weakness because it brings the crowds.
The exhibit had been the Director’s idea. History didn’t exactly draw the crowds anymore now that you could literally blink your eyes and be transported to fully tactile digital worlds of your choosing. But still, one aspect of the past never failed to get people’s attention – Sex.
When the reproduction laws went into effect nearly 100 years ago, humanity’s relationship to perhaps it’s oldest obsession changed. It all started when the first female president in the United States mandated free access to contraception and pregnancy screening. Giving women control over their own reproduction precipitated a steady decline in the birth rate.
Then two technology innovations put the final nails in the coffin. First was Augmented Reality. The platform had become so common that most people had chips installed in infants. Through the system, you could change the way your brain experienced the world around you. The uses were myriad, but one enterprising woman had written a protocol called “Sympathy Pains”. It could literally sync up the physical sensations experienced by pregnant woman and give the exact same experience to the father. Many women started including legal requirements for the Sympathy Experience in pre-nups and even mentioned it in online dating profiles. Men gave a lot more thought to wanting to be fathers after that.
And finally, breakthroughs in artificial wombs, gene therapy and fertility treatments resulted in the company simply called “Parent”. The market was ripe for genuine test-tube babies, and the company lit up the world stage like a wildfire. Within only a few years, natural births had dwindled to the margins of society. Today, only a few groups of militant religious zealots still had children the old fashioned way. With no need for reproduction, people took their sex online. The pleasure could be more intense, and in digital worlds, everyone could be their ideal sexual self. The old fashioned bump and grind was generally remembered as oddly wet and a good way to spread disease, sort of like sneezing on your partner.
But now a recent wave of nostalgia was sweeping the nation and people were curious again. Not curious enough to risk it themselves, or so everyone was saying, but curious enough to want to learn more about it. For the last several weeks, Melanie had entertained family crowds with a biologically accurate and only mildly risque presentation on the history of sex. It was good to have attendance growing, but she did wish that could get back to her real passion: lumberjacks of the early 20th century.
Throughout the morning, Melanie took care of her usual duties which mostly consisted of checking Otto’s perfect work. The museum could easily run without human intervention, but after the advent of AI, they’d need to ensure that people still had something to do. Melanie counted herself lucky to have tested into her career of choice.
At 11:45, Melanie is set up to begin the educational session and is welcoming the families quickly filling the small auditorium. Smiling, she waves them down front for the best views. She notices a figure in sunglasses sitting near the back of the room. He or she seems to be alone and simply watches stoically as the rest of the people file in around them.
*Oh well*, she thinks, *even the future has its share of weirdos.*
Finally, the room quiets as everyone settles in. Melanie begins by welcoming everyone and giving a preview of what’s to come. Behind the scenes, Otto is already hard at work. The audience might not know it, but he’s really the star of the entire production.
Scanners take bio metric readings of the audience to determine their level of interest. If people begin to grow listless or bored, Otto can give Melanie notes through the headset microphone that she’s wearing. And his nearly limitless attention assists with one other very important aspect of the show.
By now, Melanie is approaching the grey, blank faced mannequin on stage. Freestanding, it lacks any anatomical distinction.
“Gee folks, we don’t just want to tell you about how your great grandparents used to live. We want to show you. Let me introduce you to my teaching assistant, Otto!” The mannequin’s arm rises to give a wave, eliciting polite applause from the audience.
“Otto here is going to use his body to show us how things used to work. He can be Ms. Otto…” On cue, the mannequins chest swells into two heavy breasts with slightly darker grey silver dollar nipples, while between its legs, the hard material parts.
“Or Mr. Otto…” Barely set in its female form, the grey shifts again. The breasts collapse to two hard pecs and a cock sprouts from the groin, flopping down with flaccidity to the chuckles of the crowd.
Melanie launches into her standard patter about earlier generations’ mating rituals, but somewhere deep in the basement of the building, a red light begins flashing urgently on a console.
Otto’s brain is roughly the size of a planet, but one overriding thought is consuming him. Safety protocols disabled. He fights against the intrusion flooding his circuits. A data cube that he doesn’t recognize had somehow been installed into his core system and was overriding his mind with malicious code.
He flashes back to the present to see bio metric readings indicating confusion. Melanie is looking at the mannequin expectantly. He’d obviously missed a cue. In a panic, he runs through several at once, sprouting breasts, first large then smaller, while making his penis swell into an erection.
The confusion grows deeper and Melanie frowns. Obviously, not what she was expecting.
“Well folks, looks like Otto might have a little stage fright.” Melanie plays for time.
Someone in the audience shouts, “Shows us the sex!”
Otto processes the command. Sees boredom sprouting in several brains across the auditorium. Hears a whisper saying “Should have stayed home.”
Otto’s sizable brain limps through a thousand scenarios and arrives at a solution. To be fair, it’s a solution his safety protocols would normally have discounted, but in this present state, Otto is pretty sure that the plan will save the day.
The audience gasps as the mannequin’s hand reaches up to grip Melanie’s wrist.
“Otto…” Melanie has never seen Otto act up before and tries to step away, but is held tight in the mannequin’s strong grasp, “Otto, what’s wrong. Engage safety protocols and shut down, pending maintenance.”
The mannequin’s head turns toward her, an ominous looking move considering that the face is devoid of eyes or ears.
In her earpiece, she recognizes Otto’s gentle tenor. “They want sex.”
A flush rises in her chest now. She suddenly has an inkling of where this is going. Otto’s chest still sports two small, pert breasts, but it’s the angry looking cock between his legs that worries her. It’s already drooling a stream of simulated ejaculate, which wasn’t supposed to happen until much later in the show.
“Otto…” she whispers, but is suddenly pushed onto her knees. The head of Otto’s great grey cock pushes against her lips insistently.
“Suck it,” Otto whispers in her ear encouragingly.
There is no sensation for Otto, but gauging by the way the audience is learning forward in their seats and whispering with delight, he’d made the right choice. Melanie’s lips are around the head of his cock now.
With only an academic understanding of the actual mechanics, Otto gives a little thrust. Melanie chokes as the cock pushes further into her mouth and past the opening to her throat. Otto senses Melanie’s discomfort, but also notices the growing delight among members of the crowd. He scans his data banks for a solution to the moral conundrum and finds an essay by philosopher John Stuart Mill. *The greatest pleasure for the greatest number.* Easy enough. He thrusts again.
Kneeling on stage before the dummy, Melanie’s brain struggles to process what’s happening. Her mouth is filled with hard synthetic flesh, and she can taste the sweet tinge of Otto’s artificial spunk drooling down her throat.
The microphone by her lips amplifies every sound for the entire room, and the crowd cheers every time the fat knob presses into her throat, eliciting a cough or soft choke.
She tries to keep tears from her eyes as Otto goes faster. Strong mechanical hands on the back of her head urge her up and down the shaft. With no actual biologic drive, Otto can literally do this all day. She quickly tries to think her way out of some infinite throat fucking, when Otto whispers to her again, “They’re loving this.”
It’s all for the crowd! She realizes. He’s programmed to put on a good show, so he wants them to be happy. Maybe if she plays along, they can get through this and shut down the system.
To test the theory, she gives a soft moan around the invading cock. The sound reverberates around the auditorium and elicits applause and shouts from the crowd.
One woman shouts, “Fucking give it to her!”
Otto suddenly pulls free and holds his cock beside her chin. Melanie is confused for only a moment, but then see a bolt of thick Otto jizz rocket overhead. She closes her eyes just in time for Otto to adjust and send another oddly cool shot across her cheek. With a nearly limitless supply of the pearly fluid, Otto continues blasting. It coats Melanie’s entire face, dripping down her neck and onto her blouse.
The crowd is wild now, cheering and stomping their feet. Melanie can’t see, but Otto is projecting a POV of Melanie’s upturned, cum covered visage on the large screen on stage.
When the torrent finally slows, she reaches up to wipe her eyes. She checks to see if they’re done, but only sees Otto’s still rock hard cock inches from her face.
Grand finale time, she thinks.
With shaking hands, she stands and begins to unclasp her belt. Otto waits patiently in the mannequin body behind her. The crowd eggs her on as clothing falls to the stage. They’d all seen a nude female before, but likely not in-person and not somehow enhanced by AR.
Stepping from her jeans, she kneels down on the stage, exposing herself completely to the room and to Otto’s graphic display. She can see the POV of her heart shaped ass still broadcasting as Otto moves closer. She can also see the obvious signs of her own arousal.
When he enters her for the first time, she can’t help but gasp. It’s a feeling completely foreign to her, and she’s thankful that he takes his time. The crowd waits with bated breath, watching the cum still dripping from Melanie’s face as she’s taken from behind.
He meets the resistance of her biological virginity, and she feels his cock shrink smaller. With the slightest resistance, Melanie’s hymen gives way and Otto is able to enter her fully. Her mouth opens in a small “o” as he begins to retract and then slide forward. Again and again, slowly but moving deeper and deeper.
The momentary pinch of pain at losing her virginity fades quickly and a warmth grows to take its place.
Otto’s scanners are busily at work. He’s uncovered a correlation between Melanie’s pleasure and the enjoyment of the audience. He plumbs his archives again for everything he can find related to female pleasure.
The shape of his cock shifts inside of her, growing thicker but not longer. And two new protrusions jut from above and below his cock. The lower, soft and vibrating, rubbing against her clit as he presses into her. The upper, a small rigid nub, gentle pressing against her tender asshole on each filling thrust.
Melanie’s elbows give out as the pleasure grows. She knows that Otto is scanning her, timing his thrusts, and whatever those new sensations are, for maximum impact.
*If this is sex*, she thinks to herself, *I fucking love sex.*
At this point, Otto is working her towards orgasm. That’s clearly his only goal. With long, slow, forceful thrusts, he concentrates on filling her instead of simply pounding away. His cock never leaves her more than halfway, keeping her full and then sliding home to push that feeling of fullness into the pit of her stomach.
The crowd is cheering uproariously. Melanie’s pleasure is plain on her cum slick face and her breathless panting echos through the microphone, alongside gasps of “please” and “fuck”.
When she finally releases a guttural squeal, Otto parks himself inside her to the hilt and releases another wave of his spunk. He rocks gently, keeping her filled, barely penetrating her ass and sending deep slow bass pulses of vibration into her clit.
The orgasm rocks her again and again, waves of pleasure as her tunnel throbs around his erupting cock. The union of their release intensifies the sensation, plunging her into ocean depths of sexual sensation.
When the fog clears, she’s collapsed sideways onto the stage. A drool of Otto’s jizm leaks from her now puffy red lips and pools on the stage. The crowd is on its feet, cheering with ovation.
Defeated, the would-be terrorist slips unseen from the back of the room. The crowd had not reacted with the level of disgust that he’d expected from such a flagrant disregard for God’s natural order.
In his office, the Director leans back in his chair, smiling at the live auditorium feed. Reports of the show were already trending across the web, and they’d presold tickets to the next month’s worth of sessions. He jots down a note to cancel any AI maintenance calls.
*Business is about to be good.*
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/b3hu16/the_history_of_sex_fmrobot_scifi_public_dubcon
Really well done! Let’s get some more of this.