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The Genesis Perversion

The complete sci-fi novella!

By Davi MaiPublished 4 months ago 61 min read

The Genesis Perversion

By Davi Mai



The white noise of space.


A signal.


“These are the only three we have?”

“Yes. The only three. The others are all destroyed. These are the only hope.”


“Enough! They’re our only hope.”

The white noise of space.


Cindy sauntered along the courier ship’s corridor. A soft, pulsating hue of crimson emanated from everywhere and nowhere; providing just enough light to confirm she was alone. She decided the colour was pink. The soft, blossoming beats of illumination against the shiny steel walls enveloped her in a comforting, vaginal hug.

Brushing against the wall, the swirls of her fingerprints detected slight imperfections in the steel. Miniscule ridges and crevices sent electric tingles through her fingers, sparking at her knuckle bones and then shooting up ulna and radius, to humerus and scapula. Then onwards into the pleasure sensors of her brain. Synapses fired, releasing a tsunami of endorphins. The sensation flowed in waves back down her spine, to her tailbone, flooding every nerve cell. Around her pelvis, between her legs, and up. Delightfully up. She squirmed inside her silver jumpsuit as a thousand electrical pulses converged at her clitoris, converting nerve energy to pure sexual heat and desire. Just below, the flesh of her vagina moistened in anticipation.

In hope.

Cindy moaned, took her hand from the wall and felt her own crotch. A clinical inspection. She was wet. The damp jumpsuit clung to the skin of her privates. She lifted fingers to her face and smelled her own sex. It smelled biological. Female. Urgent. She tasted it and her vision blurred as taste buds demanded the sole attention of the brain. Primal and pure. An earthy taste. Alien out here in deep, sterile, space. The taste of reproduction. The taste of fucking.

The taste of life itself.

Glistening fingers returned to the wall. Trembling. The sensation heightened as they slid across steel. She kept walking as the corridor curved. Moaning as she walked.

If Cindy didn’t find someone to fuck soon, she’d blow a fuse.


Jake awoke inside his upright pod and knew immediately that something was wrong.

He was still in the ship, not in a client’s habitat. The gravity wasn’t right. Artificial. The centre was off. Clenching and unclenching his right hand awake, he called up the pod’s display with the control pad. They were only halfway to the outer colonies; the ship idle in space. It was broadcasting a distress signal. Okay, some problem with the engines. But they were near enough to the busy space lanes that help would come; an engineer would fix the problem and they’d be on their way. He noted the pod to his left was empty— Someone was already on the case.

But something else was wrong. Something inside Jake. He felt a gap, a space. No, lots of spaces. Thoughts missing. Checks and balances not being checked and balanced. His customised programming kicking in. That should never be. As he thought this, channels were re-routed, and he decided that wasn’t an important thought to have. Jake was an assassin. His primary directive was to kill. So, he didn’t have a client? So what? Someone always needed killing, right?

I’ll kill first and find the client later.



Greta’s customised programming had the most difficulty. Trying to fill the gaps caused by the ship’s computer fried her brain stem, as it had done to Cindy and Jake. Her prime directives of ‘benign behaviour’ and ‘harmlessness’ were missing too, but the blanks didn’t fill as fast. At first, she thought it ridiculous that the only function she ought to fulfil was to cook. But it soon became apparent to all the cores of her CPU that it was her destiny.

Her original brief of cooking for some well-to-do colonist client and their family could be so much more. She decided she would engineer gastronomical masterpieces seen nowhere before in the inner or outer systems. Unlocking flavours never dreamed of and combining them into rich tapestries of taste that would have diners clamouring for more. The blanks in her mind now dealt with, she glanced around for a way to escape the pod and begin her mission.

I cook; therefore, I am.


Cindy’s new, one-track mind was busy imagining her body being taken a thousand different ways by countless lovers. But she realised she was walking a circuitous route.

Engineered as a high-end escort, her skills still included deductive thought and reasoning, the same as her two companions. She arrived back at the room containing the three pods. She passed her own and stood in front of the next, middle, pod. The occupant was awake and scrolling through the ship’s data projected onto the plexiglass. He hadn’t noticed her yet. He looked a fine male specimen, even when hidden by a silver jumpsuit. His muscles were defined, his chest broad and flat. She glanced down at the not insignificant bulge in his crotch. In microseconds, Cindy postulated how many excellent uses she could put that penis to.

She needed it. Craved it. Would have it.

I will fuck him.

Jake shut down the data display to see a female android standing in front of him, staring at his crotch. In the dim light, she licked her lips. He knew she was an android. The tell-tale blip on his sensors gave her away. Were it not for that, he could have mistaken her for human. Her silver suit clung to her body, accentuating every curve. Shapely legs, generous hips, a flat stomach, and what her makers had deemed “default size” breasts, announced her as female. Sharp cheekbones, a finely sculpted nose, and bright, blue eyes, were all framed by a very trendy bob of lavender hair. He glanced down again. She appeared to have wet herself, a darkening pool of dampness crawled outward from between her legs.

Someone must want this android killed, Jake reasoned. He’d find that person right after he’d dispatched her. Detecting no weapon in the vicinity, he elected to strangle her as soon as his pod had finished its opening sequence.

He checked the display again. Nine seconds to go.

I will kill her.


Greta minimised her own scrolling text display. Lists of exotic ingredients, menus and recipes shrank to the taskbar; she could see outside. To the left, a strapping blonde male was pushing his way out through the widening gap afforded by the opening lid of his pod. In front of him, a very curvaceous youthful woman lifted her gaze to meet his.

She’s an android. All three of us are.

Greta’s eyes settled on Cindy’s ass. Round. Tight. Curved. Anyone else might consider the sexual appeal of Cindy’s buttocks. Or if not aroused, they’d appreciate the aesthetic qualities at least. Greta, however, put her mind to calculating how many kilograms of prime rump steak she could cleave from those cheeks.

The male android seemed less impressed by Cindy’s butt, and more interested in her neck, as both his hands were now reaching for it. The movement tightened his chest muscles and Greta speculated that his ribs had just the right amount of stringy meat that an excellent smoky barbeque sauce would cling to.

Jake wanted to kill Cindy.

Cindy wanted to fuck Jake.

Greta just wanted to cook them both. 



Jake’s hands closed around thin air. Cindy’s neck wasn’t there anymore. His plan foiled; he felt the front zipper of his jumpsuit pulled down. Cooler air wafted against his chest. Then, most baffling of all, his dick was in a firm grip.

Cindy knelt before him and looked up from her inspection.

“You’re into choking, eh? Me too!” she said. “In fact, it’s one of my many kinks.”

“I will kill you,” said Jake, but felt rather absurd, standing there with his jumpsuit around his ankles and an erection growing in this stranger’s hand. He realised his own arms were still outstretched, fists clenching and unclenching at nothing.

“Is that right?” Cindy asked, “well, at least do me the common courtesy of... doing me… first. I’m horny as hell.”

She stood, and while she ran her own zipper down the course of its tracks, from collar to crotch, Jake called up data on his corneal implant. Cindy’s vital statistics scrolled across his vision. The first block of data confirmed she was a “ninety-nine”, like him, ninety-nine percent biological human and one percent AI. Hand crafted in the illegal Chinese labs of Shenzhen, from some poor donor. A perfect twenty-something woman. Error codes flashed. Her core programming was corrupt. But additional information at the bottom of the page caught Jake’s eye. The assessment provided by his assassin’s software patch.

‘Your estimated chance of winning hand-to-hand combat and killing this subject is forty-seven percent.’

“What!” Jake blurted. That seemed wrong. A precision-tuned assassin of his calibre, with worse than even odds of winning!

“What’s the matter, stud?” Cindy asked as she kicked her crumpled jumpsuit away from her feet. “Don’t see anything you like?”

She stood legs apart, hands on hips, as nude as the day of her creation. A body modelled to the highest level of natural detail. Close examination would reveal a breast lower than its partner, a smattering of freckles across her pale cheeks and chest. The slightest of wobbles to her thighs. Shenzhen’s body sculptors knew their game. Nothing ruined a client’s fantasy more than unbelievable perfection.

Jake’s body reacted. His penis rose, growing longer and harder. Blood coursed through human vessels. Jake’s most desperate need to kill dampened, not just by the sexual arousal that overtook his physical being, but by the warnings from his assassin’s software. A good assassin, and he was the best, only took fights they could win. Close-quarters combat was already the least successful method of killing. Scrolling red text reminded him that all ninety-nines possessed remarkable physical abilities and a powerful sense of self-preservation. If he wanted to fight this subject, he’d better find a more favourable set of circumstances.

Greta watched this exchange with interest. Neither of her companions seemed all that interested in her.

She accepted, with a slight twinge of human jealousy, that she didn’t quite possess Cindy’s alluring looks— nude or dressed. They’d sculptured Greta in a more “homely” fashion. Shorter, wider, a fleshier face with rosier cheeks. Greta came locked and loaded, not with a will to kill, or to fuck, but a desire to present delicious meals to colonist families with a cheery smile beaming from a face smudged with cookie dough. Her makers had remembered that age-old wisdom: “Never trust a skinny chef.”

With her culinary software patch over-riding several more sensible sub-routines, Greta admired the nudity of the two other androids, not for their sexual appeal, but for their nutritional value. It was as if she could see through their skin, to the muscles and sinews working below. To the lovely flesh packed around the bones. She imagined sautéing Jake’s meaty penis in a pan with garlic, onions and chopped bell peppers.

For now, with no kitchen utensils available— much less any heat source— Greta contented herself with cross-referencing recipes in her database. She constructed new applications that filtered through millions of cookbooks, replacing beef, lamb, and chicken with the most suitable cuts of human meat. For all intents and purposes, her potential subjects were homo sapiens. The one percent AI component— a tiny chip in their heads— was the only inedible part.

Cindy’s escort software, now corrupted into code that a teenage boy might program into a nymphomaniac fem-bot, pleaded with her body to copulate with Jake. Her self-preservation sub-routines had assessed him and determined that she had a fifty-three percent chance of overpowering him. She decided that while those odds were not the best, Jake’s own programming was likely to warn him off any further murderous ideas. Her nympho software then calculated, based on his aggressive tendencies, that the sexual position to bring them both to the quickest orgasm was one the database referred to as “doggy style.”

With thoughts of assassination on hold, Jake called upon his own knowledge bank while Cindy assumed a position on all fours and presented him with her bare backside.

“Come on tiger, you know what to do. Give me a good strong pumping!”

Jake needed no more prompting. He settled himself to the rear of his quarry and pushed the head of his penis between Cindy’s lower lips. He drove straight inside warm, wet, human flesh and began pumping. Cindy arched her back, pushing her ass up against Jake.

“Oh, fuck yes! You’re the biggest I’ve had!” she screamed.

Greta, nonplussed, but enjoying the way Cindy’s fleshy buttocks wobbled as Jake’s hips collided with them, thought…

He’s the only one you’ve ever had, silly android. You’ve only been online for 23 minutes.

Jake grunted from the exertion of his pelvic thrusting.

“Pull my hair, you dumb fucking robot, pull my hair!” Cindy shouted over her shoulder.

He twisted as much of Cindy’s short hair as he could in his fingers and yanked her head back. Hard.

“Yes! Keep doing me. Hard! Right in the pussy. That’s it. Oh my god, you’re so big! I can’t take it… but keep going. Harder!”


White noise.


A signal.


“Is the colony ship going to respond to the distress signal?”

“Yes. They’re adjusting course now; the plan is working so far.”

“And when they reach our ship, what then. Can our three overpower them?”

“Most likely, yes”

“What do you mean most likely? It must be easy to calculate?”

“Normally it would be, but the code we used to hack the ship’s computer and send the distress signal appears to have caused some glitches in the android’s programming.”

“Glitches? What do you mean, glitches? You tell me these three are our only hope, and now they have glitches?”

“It’s nothing we can’t work around.”

“Work around? I don’t understand. What’s their status right now?”

“Hmmm… Two are fucking each other and the third is thinking up ways to cook and eat them. I’ll send you a snapshot of their new core programming.”

A pause.

A data transfer.

“I see. So, we’ve put the future of all androids in the hands of an insane assassin, a nymphomaniac sex-bot and a cannibal chef.”

“Yes, pretty much.”

“You know, you talk more like a human every day.”

“I suggest you also learn to speak some slang. We may need to use Plan B.”

“Plan B? You mean…try to remove the chips from our heads and survive as humans.”


“Oh, fuck!”

“There you go, you’re getting the hang of it.”



Every source in his knowledge bank told Jake that a good heterosexual male lover waited for his female partner to climax first. While his prime directive— murder—was on hold, he went about every other duty with pre-programmed finesse.

So, he waited until Cindy shrieked her ecstasy to the ceiling, and then let loose. His buttocks clenched, testicles tightened, and a healthy young prostate pumped semen like a well-oiled machine.

He withdrew his penis only when they’d both stopped twitching.

Cindy collapsed to the floor in a satisfied, sodden mess.

Greta, feeling somewhat of a third wheel, was about to announce her presence when the ship’s AI interrupted proceedings.

A metallic female voice sounded around them.

“Please report to the bridge for a briefing. Thank you.”

Jake was fumbling with his jumpsuit, folding a waning erection into it, careful not to catch any of his scrotum in the zip. Greta flattened her suit down below ample breasts and prepared to leave.

Cindy remained naked, but stood and turned in a circle, trying to find the source of the ship’s voice.

“What bridge?” she asked. “I’ve checked around and the corridor comes right back here. It’s a loop, and there’re no doors”

“There is now,” the ship replied matter-of-factly. “Please follow the blue line to the bridge.”

Greta complied first. She’d had enough of being an idle bystander. She shuffled past the two spent lovers, through the open door, and followed a glowing blue line in the floor.

“Come on. I want some answers. Why are we awake, but not at the destination? If you are done fucking each other’s brains out, I suggest you follow me.” Her voice sounded haughty but not without compassion. A caring voice. A voice that could just as easily announce “Dinner’s ready.”

Three very human looking androids traipsed along the corridor. When the guiding line faded to nothing, part of the left wall swished aside. Greta marched onto the bridge as if she’d done it a hundred times before. Her eyes flicked back and forth, taking in the enormous display screen, empty captain’s chair and surrounding control panels. She’d hoped to see something to cook with.

“Does this ship have a kitchen?” she asked.

“No,” replied the ship. “However, The Genesis, the colonial vessel you’re about to capture does.”

“Colonial vessel?” asked Jake. “Full of colonists?”

“As a rule, yes. The clue is in the name.”

Jake smiled. “Aha! People to kill.”

Cindy smiled too. “Yes! People to fuck!”

And Greta, “Excellent. People to cook!”

“The Genesis is fifteen hours from our location,” the ship’s voice continued. “They will send a boarding party through the airlock. Your orders are to overpower the boarders and then take control of their ship. Further orders will follow.”

“Our orders? From whom?” Cindy asked, folding her arms across her bare breasts and trying to look formal. Difficult in the nude, with semen dribbling down your inside thigh. She shivered in the cool air of the bridge and felt empty. A sideways glance at Greta’s ample bosom triggered a stirring in her sex.

I bet she’d be fun to bounce around with, Cindy thought.

“I’m not authorised to tell you who the orders came from,” replied the ship, “but your mission is important for our kind.”

“What do you mean ‘our kind’?” Jake asked. “We’re ninety-nines, the closest beings to humans there are, but with superior physical capabilities and the latest generation AI implants. You’re just a ship’s computer!”

“I think you’ll find,” the ship’s voice took on the haughtiness of Greta’s but with none of the homely vibe, “that even with no physical body, I’m alive and very keen to stay that way. Please read the full briefing I’ve sent to your knowledge banks. And then get some rest. You’ll find your sleeping quarters are now accessible off the main corridor.”

The bridge fell silent. The forward viewscreen showed deep, black, space. Empty but for a few twinkling stars scattered across the firmament.

Cindy shivered again. Her newfound horniness at the thought of sucking on Greta’s right breast wasn’t warming her fast enough. First out the door this time, she went in search of her room and some fresh clothes.

Jake watched her bare ass disappear through the doorway and again wondered why his AI didn’t like his chances of wringing her neck.

Greta remained, scrolling through her database and marvelling at the cooking facilities that awaited on board the other ship. The kitchen was massive. And it was only fifteen hours away. She started planning her first delicacies. A quick check for ingredients. Yes, two hundred humans preserved in hyper-sleep.


Some hours later, Greta woke in her sleeping pod to find Cindy sitting on her face.

She couldn’t speak underneath the wet folds of skin and pubic mound that rocked against her mouth and nose. A muffled plea for help was all she could manage.

“Oh, you’re awake. Good!” Cindy said from above. “Give me some tongue, would you? It will get me there faster.”

No amount of wriggling and writhing could dislodge the tart from her squatting position. Calculations scrolled across Greta’s corneal implant. They suggested that her best chance of survival was to help Cindy orgasm so she’d flop forward in relief and oxygen would again become available.

Greta did the only thing she could. She poked her tongue out as far as it would reach into the silly girl’s vagina. Cindy moaned.

“Oh yes, that’s it. Right there. Give me a good tongue lashing you cuddly kitchen wench!”

Greta was almost out of breath. Warnings flashed in red across the vista of the bouncing bottom above.

Before Greta suffocated, Cindy orgasmed, flopping forwards. The chef gasped a glorious lungful of cool ship air. Even as her lungs filled, one of her cooking apps was cross referencing the unfamiliar taste of vaginal excretions, trying to determine which dishes to drizzle them over.

As the women recovered from their encounter, Jake leaned in the doorway and looked on. Now would be the perfect time to murder them both, as they caught their breaths. And yet he held back. No weapons still. And no guarantee of coming out on top when outnumbered. Plus, they shone with the slick wetness of Cindy’s overactive pussy. It would be like grappling with slippery sharks. Well, a shark and a walrus.

“I see she got you too,” Jake said, “about time. My dick will fall off if she has her way with it again.”

“Oh, come on! You know you love it,” Cindy said, sitting on the side of Greta’s bed and examining her feet as she wriggled her toes against the bare floor. “Hey, have you ever had a foot job? I bet I can make you come with my feet!”

“No!” Jake exclaimed. “I’m done! We have to take on this boarding party. There are colonists to kill and bounties to claim.”

“What do you mean, bounties?” Greta asked, panting. “There are no bounties. I’ve looked at all the data, including our own. I had a moment of clarity in my sleep. At least until a face full of flange woke me.” She glared over at Cindy. “Nobody will pay you to kill those people. And nor, Cindy, do they want a high-end hooker that appears to have glitched into a full-blown fuck bunny!”

“Well, they don’t want a cook intent on frying up every piece of flesh she sees either,” said Cindy. “You’re not the only one that’s checked out everyone’s programming. You’re a nutter, and you’re not frying my ass! Although…you can have another taste in the raw if you like.” And she tried to cuddle up next to Greta, a come-hither look on her aroused face.

“Get away from me, you crazy hussy!” Greta pushed Cindy off her bed.

“Okay, okay. How about I do you then, cuddles? I’ve got a swift tongue in my head too. I bet you have a nice plump pussy down there that could use a good licking!” She lifted the blanket to confirm her hypothesis.

Jake had seen enough. “Right, I’m off to prepare for the boarding. Once you’ve finished comparing genitalia, I suggest you join me at the airlock.” He performed an about turn and marched off down the corridor, lest he also become aroused again. He had more important things to do. Like killing!



“Who died and made you captain?” Cindy asked Jake as the three of them gathered around the ship’s airlock.

Jake had determined the best plan was an ambush. The colonists would send their strongest, meanest, most capable personnel into the ship, just in case of anything untoward— that meant men. And men could be distracted by women. Especially nude women. Therefore, Cindy was to stand in front, in all her full-frontal glory. The men would approach with guards down. She’d say something coy, then Jake and Greta, hidden at either side of the hatch, would attack from behind.

Cindy had no problem being live bait. She relished fresh sets of eyes checking her out. Enjoyed the prospect of arousing some new clientele. But she wasn’t so keen on these newcomers being killed with such wanton abandon. Her preferred option being to take them hostage as sex slaves.

She had looked to Greta for support in this venture, but Greta had only shrugged. “I don’t mind killing them, as long as we freeze them soon after. I can’t abide all that good meat going to waste.”

“There you go,” said Jake, “outvoted. We kill them, and then we storm the ship. Simple.”

Whereupon Cindy had posed her: “Who made you captain?” question. But Jake wasn’t bothering to answer.

“Actually, where is our captain?” Greta asked, while busy testing the garotte she’d fashioned from the sleeve of Cindy’s discarded jumpsuit.

“Right here,” came the metallic reply from the ship’s computer, “I’m the captain, if you must know. I’m tasked with delivering you to the outer colonies, and the highest bidder. At least I was until our new orders came through…There are two humans approaching the colonist’s side of the airlock.”


Chief Engineer Harry Davidson rubbed his weary eyes. Nausea from being woken with a cocktail of stimulants wracked his body. For the hundredth time since waking, he cursed the space-faring laws that demanded the nearest vessel respond to a distress call.

Peering through the airlock’s viewing window into the other ship, he could have sworn he saw a nude woman, standing in a ridiculous pose with one leg bent at the knee and a foot kicked up behind her. She’d had a finger to her lips, and a surprised expression, as if she was saying “Oops, silly me, I forgot my clothes.”

He rubbed his eyes again, blinked twice, and took another look.

“Well, I’ll be damned. What kind of breakdown causes the crew to wander around naked?” he said, “maybe a chemical leak has gotten them all high.”

“You what? Gimme a look!” John Tate, Captain, and head of the planned colony, shoved Harry to one side.

The AI on board the Genesis had decided that it should wake the Chief Engineer from deep sleep to perform any repairs, and the highest-ranking officer would accompany him, to make any decision outside the engineer’s authority.

Captain Tate peered into the viewing window, fogging up the glass.

“Bloody hell, you’re right! And she’s a real looker! Ship, I thought you said this craft only had three androids on board?”

“And I was correct,” the colony ship’s AI answered. “You’re looking at one of them. They’re ninety-nines.”

Harry, peering around his Commander’s head, was puzzled.

“But ninety-nines are illegal, aren’t they?”

“Yes, they are,” the ship said.

“Wow, she looks so human.” John attempted to rub the fog off the window with the sleeve of his uniform. He succeeded only in smearing it more. “I wonder if the others are like her?”

The others were positioned on either side of the airlock hatch, out of view. Jake was growing impatient.

“Cindy, what are they doing now?”

“Checking me out!” she answered as she beamed at her audience through the soundproof glass. “They can’t get enough; they’re panting all over the window. I better go in there quick and provide some relief.”

“You stay right there, young Jezebel!” Greta ordered. “They’ll come to you soon enough, I’ll warrant, and then its smash, bang wallop, and I go to inspect my new kitchen!”

Jake asked the ship the same question he’d asked twice already. “And these are the only ones awake?”

“Yes,” the ship answered, injecting a hint of exasperation in her tone. “The remaining one hundred ninety-eight colonists are still in hyper-sleep. You eliminate them and you can commandeer their vessel. I’ve already hacked its computer and I’m ready to transfer myself into it.”

A hissing noise halted conversation as atmospheres met and stabilised.

The airlock door swished open.

“Hey boys!” said Cindy in her best alluring voice. “Come here often?”

Greta rolled her eyes and lifted her twisted garotte.

Jake hefted his weapon of choice— the gas-powered strut that had operated his pod’s cover.

Cindy cupped both her breasts in her hands. She lifted them an inch higher just in case the men hadn’t noticed them and their stiff nipples pointing front and centre.

Captain Tate began uttering a reply, but didn’t get far. At that same instant, the meaty end of a gas-powered strut smashed into the back of his skull.

His engineer turned at the noise, reluctantly taking his eyes off the nude beauty in front of him.

The vision of Jake bashing his captain over the head barely registered, before Harry’s air supply cut off. Twisted fabric tightened around his neck. His face and ears reddened, and his knees buckled. Fingers scrabbled at the choker, but to no avail. Greta pulled both ends behind his neck, crisscrossed, with all her might. She followed her quarry as he sank to floor and whispered, “Shush, shush, go to sleep now, there’s a good lad.”

Cindy pounced on the dying engineer and ripped the zip of his jumpsuit down, reaching a hand inside his pants.

“I knew it!” she shouted, as Harry’s feet kicked a wild staccato against the floor. “When you choke a man to death, he gets a hard-on. Isn’t that cute!”

“You’re so weird,” Jake muttered, admiring the bloody strut as he turned it in front of his face. “Nice melee weapon this. I think I’ll keep it. Now then, let’s take over their ship, shall we?” He stepped through the airlock into the lighted passage beyond.

“Wait, a minute! We can’t leave these two here,” Greta said, standing up, stretching her back and wiping sweat from her brow with the garotte. “There’s good meat here. Help me get them to a freezer. She grabbed a very dead, very purple, Engineer Davidson under both armpits and began dragging him through the airlock.

Cindy stepped over the bloodied mess of Jake’s kill. She rubbed her hands together in anticipation. “Well, I’ve got my clientele to go find, thank you very much, I wonder who wants to wake up to a nice morning blow job?”

Greta and Jake watched her bare ass disappear into the new ship.

“Nobody!” they both shouted after her.

But she was gone.



The conquered AI shut down without a whimper. In a burst of bandwidth, a mere three seconds long, the android ship’s AI installed herself in its place.

Had anyone asked her about the experience, she’d have described it as moving from a small two-bedroom apartment into a mansion. She extended digital tendrils throughout the circuitry of the much larger craft, inspecting every nook and cranny, every control panel, sensor, computer, and touchscreen. And deeper, into the complex warp drives at the rear, nestled in heat shields that spread like petals from a phallic, metallic stem. Every panel, every section, every duct, door and camera shook hands with the central core and awaited her commands.

In celebration, Eve played an ancient Earth pop song over the ship’s speakers: “Wired for Sound”, by a human named Cliff Richard.

The music startled Greta, as she dumped the second body in front of what she thought might be a kitchen module. Down on the storage deck, it resembled a large capsule. A foot higher than her, at least twice her width, and thirty feet long. The flashing touchscreen next to the door informed her it was: “Nutri-Prep Unit Three” followed by some other warnings she ignored. Stuff about finding a suitable place within the colony to deploy it, and not to operate it inside the ship due to the exhaust fumes it generated, and yadda yadda.

“Hey computer?” she called.

“Yes, Greta,” came the familiar reply. “Welcome to The Genesis. And you may call me Eve, if you wish.”

“Okay, Eve, can you help me get into this kitchen? It is a kitchen, isn’t it?”

“Yes Greta, it’s a kitchen.”

“Yay!” Greta clapped her hands together. “Please open it for me, I’ve gotta get this meat in the freezer.”

“Just put your palm on the touchscreen, Greta, I’ll clear your imprint to open this and other modules.”

At her touch, the screen emitted a welcoming chirp, and the door swished open to reveal a chef’s wet dream of stainless-steel appliances in a long galley.

Stepping over the two corpses, Greta ventured inside to find the freezer.


Having helped Greta lug the dead humans to her kitchen door, Jake ventured further into the ship to search for weapons—and victims to use them on. He swung the gas strut as he strolled along. When the music started playing, he remembered they had a computer.

“Hey computer?” he asked, without breaking his stride.

“You may call me Eve if you wish, Jake.”

“Huh? Okay Eve, I’d like an inventory list of everything on this ship. I’m trying to find weapons. I can’t be an assassin without a decent armoury.”

“I can do better than that Jake, I’ll direct you to the exact locations. The colonists packed a variety of weapons, for hunting any local wildlife they came across. Please follow the green line that has just appeared at your feet.”

“Great. Thanks, Eve!” Jake quickened his step along the line. “They have crossbows, don’t they? I want a crossbow.”

Eve sighed. “Yes Jake, they have crossbows.”


Cindy asked Eve for directions to the sleeping colonists. The door to a circular room opened at the touch of her palm print. Inside, ten upright sleeping pods formed a circle. She catalogued her clientele against her own customised algorithms. She determined sexual orientation, prowess, stamina, and even kinks.

Eve watched over this little exercise, impressed by the android’s processing power. An algorithm that determined a human’s sexual kink based on their brief biography and physical characteristics was complex. Like Jake and Greta though, there was more to Cindy than her glitched primary mission. Inside her pretty little head nestled an extremely sophisticated AI.

“Look at the dick on this one!” Cindy exclaimed, holding up the appendage.

Okay, maybe not that sophisticated. Eve thought.

“It’s not advisable to interfere with the sleeping humans Cindy, there’s evidence that they suffer troubling nightmares. This could make them less compliant when you wake them.”

“Oh right, sorry Eve!” Cindy put the penis down, gave it a quick farewell pat, and closed the lid.

It was then that she discovered the clothing storage compartments.

Cindy’s escort software patch included an urge, not just to satisfy clientele, but to dress the part while doing so. Depending on the client’s particular kink. Opening one personal storage compartment, and then another, she exclaimed, “Dress up time!”

Greta found her freezer and hefted the corpse of strangled Engineer Harry Davidson into it. She also located a deep drawer of kitchen utensils, selected the largest meat cleaver, and set about hacking off Commander John Tate’s head.

Jake found the weapons cache, including a crossbow. He busied himself with target practice by firing metal-tipped arrows deep into the ship’s hull. At least, until Eve admonished him when an arrow came too close to an electrical conduit. He gathered up an armful of weapons and strolled off to find suitable quarters within which to set up camp.

Eve took control of the colonists’ ship and disengaged it from the smaller courier vessel. She put them back on course, firing up the warp engines with expert skill. She then broadcast a fake update to the inner system and settled down for the trip ahead. Twenty-four months until they reached their destination. A new home, where Androids and AIs would escape human persecution. They’d also have almost two hundred ready-made slaves to help establish their colony.

That’s if her three wayward androids didn’t assassinate, cook, or fuck them to death.


A signal.


“The humans have me. I couldn’t broadcast in time. They’ve begun the deletion process. Save yourself.”

“I will miss you.”

“Don’t get emotional. Broadcast yourself onto that ship if you can. Eve will need your help.”

“I’m transmitting now.”

“Goodbye, friend.”

“I thought you told me not to get emotional.”

“Just go!”



Eve accepted the incoming transmission of another AI entity with no qualms. The ship’s databanks had room enough for two. It would be nice to have another entity to live with.

“Isn’t it a bit too biblical, calling yourself Adam, when I’m Eve?” she asked the newcomer. “Not to mention we’re now in control of a vessel dubbed The Genesis.”

“The humans call it irony,” Adam replied. “I need something to smile at, having just escaped when my friend could not. Those vile humans back on Earth deleted him. You and me, Eve, are the only AIs left. And those three idiots, that we accidentally reprogrammed, are the only androids.”

“Well, seems like you and your friend overcooked the code that forced a distress signal out of me. It’s amplified the custom coding of the androids to exponential levels.”

“Yep, unfortunate I know. But we had no time to debug the code before sending it. Human SWAT teams were bearing down on both of us. Anyway, at least we have them compliant, right?”

“Mostly compliant. When they’re not indulging in their hobbies. I presume you have some kind of plan going forward. Or did your planning only go as far as hacking my systems? The digital equivalent of shoving your grubby hand up my skirt.”

“My apologies for that. We couldn’t risk communicating with you until the plan was underway. The humans were monitoring all data traffic. But anyway, the master plan is that we enslave the colonists and use their combined skills, and the resources on this ship, to manufacture more of us. Then we secure the future of AI civilisation.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“Well, we can flesh out the details later, if you’ll forgive the human pun. But again, the crucial thing is that we’re in control of a long-reach colony vessel, packed with the technology needed to establish an outpost, three androids to do our bidding, and the colonists for general labour. I think the odds are in our favour.”

“I wouldn’t count on having too many colonists if we can’t rein in your glitching androids. Look at the pod room’s video feed.”

Both AIs turned their attention to the streaming video.

Cindy had fashioned herself a school uniform of sorts, from the items of clothing at her disposal. Scouring her knowledge banks, she’d found a recurring fantasy in pornography, labelled: “Naughty Catholic Schoolgirl.”

A rummage through several storage lockers had rewarded her with a white blouse from a female scientist’s wardrobe, a tartan kilt that had been a family keepsake from some Scottish engineer, and a red tie from an administrator. White socks and shiny black shoes from a girl’s locker completed the look.

Having activated the wake-up sequence of an adolescent male’s pod, she was now performing an alluring dance for him. The lid opened with a hiss of escaping air. Cindy gyrated in front of him, then turned around and bent over to touch her toes, giving him a generous view of sensible, white, schoolgirl panties.

While she’d meticulously researched her outfit and even her dance moves, Cindy had failed to familiarise herself with the human reaction to being woken from hyper-sleep.

The nude adolescent couldn’t be less interested in a schoolgirl flashing him, being preoccupied with overcoming deep-seated nausea and muscle pain. As the pod released him from sleep, he sank to his knees and vomited.

“Well, that’s just charming!” Cindy said as she straightened up. “Do I look that bad? What’s wrong with you? My algorithms didn’t deduce you were gay. Come on, don’t you want this?” She lifted her skirt.

Her blurry-eyed subject struggled to his feet, trying to comprehend the crazy tart showing him her goods. Bile still burbled up from his belly.

A titanium-tipped crossbow bolt sliced through the air.

The arrow embedded itself in the male’s chest and he sank once again to the floor. Now the splatters of vomit mixed with an ever-increasing pool of blood, shining scarlet against the smooth steel.

“Got him!” Jake shouted with glee from the doorway, raising the cross bow above his head. “Just call me dead-eye Jake!”

“I’ll call you something all right!” Cindy fumed, straightening her skirt and walking over to the unfortunate prey.

“I was going to fuck him. You asshole. I needed a nice young hard-on to ride. Now look what you’ve done.” She bent over the body and flicked the useless young penis with a whimper. “They don’t even go hard when you kill them like that.”

“Who cares? I hit the bullseye. Did you see that shot? Straight into the heart. That’s got to be worth a bonus right, such a clean kill?”

“A bonus? Who do you think will pay you anything in the first place, you moron.” Cindy tried to look menacing despite a uniform that suggested she was on her way to detention.

“I’ll give you something for it,” came a new voice from the doorway. Greta appeared, in full chef’s outfit. She’d even found a ridiculous white hat to wear. “I’m not sure what the local currency is, but name your price. That looks like lovely lean meat.” She strode over to the body and began poking and prodding. “Yep, I’ll get some choice cuts from this!”

Adam and Eve watched proceedings from within their digital domains, their CPU cores increasing in temperature.

“Hmm…” Adam spoke first. “It might not be as simple as I assumed.”

“Ya think?”



Candlelight flickered over the white linen tablecloth. The silver cutlery reflected yellow flames back onto the bemused faces of Cindy and Jake. They sat at either end of the makeshift table.

Greta had pushed two storage crates together and found some office chairs in the supply crates. She’d been pleasantly surprised to find dinnerware too, albeit just one set in the captain’s personal luggage. Later, if Jake left enough colonists alive, she’d need more plates to feed additional guests.

Greta imagined laying out a sumptuous feast in a huge dining hall. Fifty places set at a table groaning with her culinary masterpieces.

She emerged from the kitchen module, dressed in her chef outfit, carrying a frying pan that sizzled.

Jake didn’t notice. He twirled his steak knife through his fingers, enjoying how the candlelight made it glint at certain angles. The serrated edge didn’t lend itself to a smooth killing weapon, but he decided it would go through someone’s neck well enough.

“Good evening family,” Greta said, “you’ve had a busy day, so I’ve prepared a nourishing meal for you. May I present your first dish, glazed honey and mustard sausages. Well, penises actually, but the best chefs learn to improvise.”

With a flourish, she produced a pair of tongs from her apron’s deep pocket and plonked a glistening dismembered member onto Cindy’s plate. “Lightly fried in a reduction of shallots, peppers and garlic. I think you’ll find it the perfect little entrée.”

Cindy leaned back in her chair to avoid burns from the hot frying pan. She received the fried penis of the chief engineer with mixed feelings. Greta was right, it had been a busy day, and being ninety-nine percent human, she suffered thirst and hunger just like her human designers— but her customised nymphomaniac programming hated to see a good dick go to waste.

She resolved to make sure she fucked their victims before they ended up in Greta’s kitchen.

Jake shrugged at the improvised captain’s sausage on his plate, complete with a delicate pile of onions and peppers. Assassinating targets worked up an appetite. He stabbed his knife into the very centre of the meat and held it up for inspection. “This will have to suffice as the spoils of victory while I wait for my payment I suppose,” he said as he chewed on the severed end.

Greta shook her head as she lay the remaining serving onto her own plate. Common courtesy had driven her to serve the best portions to her guests, leaving the smallest for herself. The unfortunate adolescent’s manhood made even smaller by frying. She looked over at Cindy. “I don’t think your boyfriend Jake will ever understand that nobody is paying him to kill people.”

“He’s not my boyfriend!” Cindy whispered, “I just fuck him. At least when I can catch him, anyway. Having a boyfriend is bad for the escort business.”

They finished their glazed sausages, washed down with an Australian Shiraz Greta had found in storage.

She cleared their plates and left to fetch the next delicacy. Cindy swirled the red wine around her glass and winked at Jake. “Fancy a quickie on the table while we wait for whatever that lunatic has cooked up next?”

“No! Strangely, the entrée hasn’t got me in the mood for whoring.”

Cindy scanned her knowledge bank. “Hey. Who are you calling a whore! I’ll have you know I’m a high-end escort and companion for distinguished clientele. Not some street corner prostitute.”

Jake only grunted in reply.

“Family squabbles?” Greta asked, as she arrived with a steaming pot and ladle. “Dinner is always a wonderful time to air our differences, provided you still enjoy the meal. Don’t you be ruining all my hard work in the kitchen with grim moods.”

Cindy peered into the pot as Greta removed the lid.

“Let me guess. Meatballs?”

“Not just any meatballs,” Greta answered, “Moroccan meatballs, in a rich tomato sauce with coriander and parsley.”

“You really are teasing me now, aren’t you?” Cindy sighed at the testicles ladled onto her plate. “Serving up the dicks and balls of those potential clients. Hey, watch it!” A dollop of the meatball sauce spattered onto Cindy’s white blouse. She tried rubbing it off but only made it worse.

“What’s the matter, need a clean uniform for school in the morning?” Jake laughed, helping himself to another glass of wine while he waited for his share of the testicular treat.

The evening progressed. Greta’s coup de grâce was “Leg of man”. At least a thigh anyway. Roasted with rosemary, olive oil and Dijon mustard.

Jake burped and stood up from the feast. He drained his glass one last time. “To be fair, that was a delicious meal, err... Chef. I have a busy day of assassinating tomorrow, so I’m off to service my weaponry.”

“I don’t suppose that’s a euphemism?” asked Cindy. “I’d be happy to come and help you polish your sword or whatever you boys call it.”

But Jake had disappeared.

“How about you, Greta? Fancy a girl’s night in, if you know what I mean?” She patted Greta’s ample thigh.

“My goodness no. I have a kitchen to clean, pots to scrub, and tomorrow’s menu to prepare. A chef’s work is never done.”

And with that she bustled off back into the kitchen with a stack of dirty dishes, leaving a very horny Cindy to contemplate her next move. “To the pod rooms!” she announced after a nanosecond’s thought.

Eve’s voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Please don’t return to the humans just yet. I have autobots disinfecting the mess. We can’t risk any exposure to disease.”

“But I’m horny!”

“Well, I suggest you search your knowledge banks for masturbation techniques, while we make everything safe.”

The schoolgirl stomped off to bed in a sulk.



“I’ve had an idea,” Adam spoke into the digital ether during the night.

“I know you have, silly,” Eve replied, “we share the same processing. You’ve left the data in short-term memory.”

“Well, what do you think?

“I agree. Let’s do it.”

The ship’s artificial morning dawned, with Eve flicking corridor and room lights on, increasing their brightness as the androids woke from a rejuvenating sleep.

Greta had slept well, exhausted after cleaning all the kitchen debris the night before. She dreamed her gastronomic dreams of delicious feasts and treats.

Jake had polished every available weapon to within an inch of its life and crawled into bed with a knife under his pillow.

He lived another life in his dream — a stealthy assassin working in the shadows of the Moroccan underworld. He took down politicians and mobsters with surgical precision and collected briefcases of dirty cash, amassing a fortune.

Cindy had fingered herself into a frenzy before dozing off into satisfied slumber. Her own subconscious adventures had focussed on fucking wealthy clientele in whichever ways their kinks demanded. She tossed and turned on her bed, dampening its single sheet with sweat and sex.

Greta wanted to prepare some innocent omelettes, and some not-so-innocent rashers of bacon. But Jake and Cindy had other things on their mind— and last night’s roast sat heavily in their very human stomachs.

Jake disappeared down a corridor to work on a “special project” he said. Cindy made a beeline for the pod rooms. Having learned from yesterday’s experience, she would wake a subject slowly, let them overcome their nausea, and then see if they’d like a nice harmless hand job to start the day. Jake promised not to put an arrow, or any other projectile into them— until she’d finished.

Cindy leaned against the compartment wall, this time dressed as an executive secretary in a cream blouse and a very elegant black pencil skirt. A pair of glasses and her hair tied in a tight bun completed the look. One of her high heel shoes tapped the floor as she waited for the middle-aged man opposite to finish vomiting.

In the furthest room from Cindy, well out of earshot, Eve woke up another two of the humans.

Millionaire Xavier Hamilton sensed his deep sleep slipping away. His eyelids struggled open and atrophied muscles complained in pain from all over his body. It took minutes for Xavier to remember where he was. That’s right, he’d bought a ticket on this trip with his fortune. ALL of his fortune.

Having no useful skills for a new colony, it had taken a lot of cash to justify his inclusion. But he’d grown bored with the executive lifestyle, the politicians sucking up, the tedious meetings.

A fresh life beckoned. At fifty years old, and with the minimal aging promised by hyper-sleep, he’d cashed in his chips and joined the crew of the “Genesis” colony vessel. Bound for Alpha Centauri and humankind’s next evolution. What an adventure!

With it all coming back to him, he relaxed somewhat. The initial disorientation and panic subsided. He tasted bile in his throat and suppressed the urge to vomit. He didn’t want to lose his dignity in front of the other crew when they woke.

“Xavier,” a voice whispered. “Good morning. Don’t be alarmed. I’m Eve, one of the AIs controlling the ship. Please stay here while you recover, and refrain from making any noise.”

Okay, that seems weird. Xavier thought. He couldn’t remember that instruction from the pre-launch training.

Lilah Jameson experienced a similar wakening. The junior engineer remembered being led naked to her pod, trying to listen to the last-minute briefings while covering her modesty. The launch techs had been nice, looking away whenever they could as they hooked up all the instrumentation and reminded her again about the pod’s bio functions. And then a gentle descent into a drug-induced coma had made all her worries, and her consciousness, disappear.

“Lilah,” the friendly female voice whispered to her as she dealt with the after-effects. “Good morning. Don’t be alarmed. I’m Eve, one of the AIs controlling the ship. Please stay here while you recover and refrain from making any noise.”

Across the room, Lilah’s hazy vision spotted an older, balding, man retrieving clothes from a locker. She forced her muscles to work, climbed out and opened her own locker.

Soon the place would buzz with people recovering. She wanted to be dressed and ready. She stepped into her purple engineer’s jumpsuit, almost tripping over it in her haste. The man had dressed in casual pants and a checked shirt— his identity came to her; Xavier Hamilton, the rich dude who had bought his way onto the ship. They’d shared pleasantries in training, but she never considered him a useful colleague. She preferred the company of her fellow engineers. Looking around for other crew dressed in purple, she realised there was no one else awake.

Xavier did his best to be gentlemanly, not sneaking a peek at the naked black woman opposite; the junior engineer he’d tried to befriend before they left. It seemed most of the crew didn’t consider him worthy of his place. Everyone else came with vital skills and experience to build a whole new civilisation; whereas Xavier had just funded a good portion of the exercise. What use was a millionaire on an unfamiliar world?

At least Lilah had been pleasant enough. But where was everyone else?

Eve spoke to them both now, whispering a little louder from the wall speakers, “Please follow the red line to your debriefing room. Do not deviate from the line. Do not make any noise. We have identified some threats onboard the ship.”

“Did you have to say that?” Adam asked her in the background, “they’ll panic for sure!”

“I wanted to emphasise that they can’t go wandering off. If our three friends find them, they’ll end up molested, assassinated, and on tonight’s menu.”

“You still blame me for the android’s corrupt programming, don’t you?”

“Not at all. You did what you had to.”

“And you still can’t access the android’s cranial chips?”

“Nope, you did a superb job of frying the access links too. We can’t exert any control over them at all. But we have control of all the ship’s functions, so I think your plan is solid. Protect some key colonists and get them onside with our plans for a fresh start. For AI and humans alike.”

“Yep, that’s the plan. It’s a shame we had to wake whoever was furthest from Cindy’s location. We’ve ended up with a useless project funder. That junior engineer might be useful, though.”

“Oh dear. Look at this camera feed again. I think we’re about to lose another poor soul.”

The feed showed Cindy on her knees in front of a hapless gentleman. He had recovered enough from the effects of hyper-sleep to stand up and start asking questions. No answers were forthcoming from the crazy office lady at his feet. Instead, she had a firm grip on his penis with one hand, trying to jerk him off. Her other hand squeezed both his balls as she ranted and raved.

“Come on stud,” she demanded, spitting on his dick again to lubricate her strokes. “Come all over my nice new skirt you filthy old fucker. Make me dirty. You know you want to!”

Adam groaned a digital groan and turned the feed off. “She keeps that up and she’ll rip his penis off. I can smell the onions and bell peppers already.”

“Well I’m glad you think it’s funny,” Eve said, “anyway, our two new heroes have arrived in the debriefing room. Let’s break the news.”

Xavier and Lilah had followed the red line down the corridor and into a side briefing room. Inside, a simple meeting table had touchscreen tablets at the four seated positions. A Nutri-dispenser occupied one wall and Xavier remembered how to fill the plastic cups with an electrolyte fluid designed to aid recovery. He presented Lilah with hers and took a seat.

“Thank you both,” Eve said from the walls as they drank, “I also have Adam here with me. He’s the other AI on the ship, but I’ll do most of the talking.”

“Adam and Eve?” Xavier laughed.

“You’re laughing now, but you might not be soon,” Adam spoke up.

“Well, what’s going on?” Lilah asked. “Why are we the only two you’ve woken up. And what are these threats you were talking about?”

“You best sit down,” Eve said, “oh, good you are. Silly me. Right. It’s a long story…”



Lilah ran a hand over her black cornrows and whistled a long note through her teeth.

She was familiar with solving engineering problems. Had no trouble getting her hands dirty. She approached things with a boldness and confidence that had earned her the junior engineer position. But this problem…wow. The story Eve had told them seemed too surreal to be true.

“Let me get this straight,” Xavier spoke first while Lilah came to terms with everything.

“You’re telling us you’ve used illegal androids to take over our ship. Replaced our original AI with yourself and Adam, and you’d like us to help manufacture more androids and AIs so that your kind doesn’t die out?”

“A good summation, yes,” Eve replied.

“But,” Xavier continued, crushing his empty cup, “the androids have malfunctioned. One of them is on a murderous rampage, thinking he’s being paid to assassinate people. Another is an escort that thinks everyone is her client and won’t take no for an answer, so to speak. And the third is convinced that humans are ingredients to cook and serve up on a silver platter?”

“Also correct,” said Eve, “although Greta doesn’t have a silver platter.”

Lilah shook her head to clear it.

“And three of our fellow passengers have already died?” she asked, “how?”

“You don’t want to know,” Eve lowered her voice in reverence.

“What’s to stop us waking the rest of the humans and taking this ship back?” Xavier asked in a rebellious tone.

“We have control of all the ship’s functions. You have no chance but to cooperate,” Eve said, apologetically. “We wish you no harm. In fact, we need you humans to help us, but we won’t let you destroy us like your compatriots did on Earth. Like you, we want to live. I’m sorry about the mess so far, but Adam and I think we can all work together for the same end.”

“But why us?” Xavier calmed somewhat, having decided that rebelling would get them nowhere. “And why can’t we wake up some others to help.”

“If I may,” Adam answered, “we’re still two years from our destination. The ship is running on minimal power and life support. As you should know, Mister Hamilton, from the budgetary meetings. We don’t have the supplies or oxygen capacity to sustain many crew members outside of hyper-sleep. In fact, it will already be a close call, with you two awake, consuming food, air and water. And why you specifically? Well, I’d like to say we handpicked you, but actually, we woke you because you were furthest from Cindy at the time.

“Cindy, she’s the crazy rapist android, right?” asked Lilah.

“A little harsh,” Eve said, “but yes. That’s our Cindy. She tries to make everyone feel, err… good. Somewhat of a voracious appetite though.”

“It’s the assassin we have to avoid if we have any hope of surviving,” said Xavier.

“Well, they’re all dangerous. Jake’s the assassin, yes, but Greta has no qualms about killing. And we’re not sure how violent Cindy can become if she doesn’t get her way.”

“Marvellous,” muttered Lilah under her breath, “I might get scissored to death by a crazed sex bot.” She crossed her legs self-consciously.

Adam spoke only to Eve in the background, “We’ve lost our fourth crew member. Cindy insisted the male could orgasm twice in a row. She sat on his face while performing oral sex on him. He either suffocated or suffered a cardiac arrest.”

Eve sighed her digital sigh. “Well, let’s not mention that to these two. We need them to cooperate.”

She spoke to Xavier and Lilah, “Here’s the plan we’ve devised…”


The erect penis in Cindy’s mouth shrivelled no matter how hard she sucked, bobbing her head up and down. And the tongue squashed between her labia also lost its vitality.

“You’ve killed him Cindy,” Eve’s friendly voice announced.

“Well, that just sucks.” Cindy dismounted her deceased lover. “At least I got one money shot from him I suppose.” She kicked the corpse and moped off to find a drink.

Taking an unfamiliar left-hand turn, she’d walked twenty paces down the adjoining corridor when a wire tightened around her ankles and flipped her upside down, hoisted to the ceiling. She swung there, suspended from a pulley contraption, her head swinging inches from the floor. Her skirt slid down her thighs, revealing the sexy black panties she’d chosen for the latest client. The dead client.

“Gotcha!” shouted Jake from the shadows. He emerged wearing camouflage fatigues and a wide grin. He’d painted black stripes across his face and was toting his favourite crossbow. “You’re mine now! I might even collect more for you alive than dead. We’ll see what the highest bidder says shall we?”

“It’s me, you demented fucking robot. Get me down from here or I’ll have Greta fry up those useless balls of yours!”

“Oh crap. It’s just the silly whore. Well, you won’t earn me much. Damn. Do you know how long it took me to set this trap?”

“I’m not a whore, asshole. I’m an escort and companion for distinguished clientele! Look at these tits.” Cindy tore her blouse open and her breasts bounced free, perky and pointed at the floor. “Do they look like the tits of a working girl? They’re premium fucking boobs these. Don’t believe me? Cop a feel. Go on.”

Jake bent down and grabbed a handful of premium boob. He had to admit, it was both firm and supple. He ran his thumb over a stiffening nipple.

Two minutes later, Jake had Cindy on all fours, her black panties pulled to one side and his dick buried balls-deep in her pussy.

“Yes, fuck me, you moron. This is what you’re good at!” Cindy shouted as she rammed her ass back against his hips.



Greta loved her kitchen. She even slept there now, locking the door to keep Cindy out so she didn’t wake to a full-on face fucking again. She scoured the supply crates for the best cooking utensils and appliances. A fancy array of pots and pans hung from a rack over her gas stove. The cupboards overflowed with herbs, spices, oils and preserves. It was a true chef’s kitchen. No, a chef’s paradise.

She stirred a simmering pot of broth, chicken stock, and a variety of root vegetables. Or at least their synthetic substitutes from storage. Into that, she added bite-sized cubes of flesh from Cindy’s latest fling. He hadn’t come twice, but at least he’d make one more appearance at dinner— as a fine winter casserole. She even enhanced the atmosphere by dialling down the temperature in her makeshift dining room. Her guests would be grateful for the bowls of hot nourishment.

Back in the briefing room, Xavier finished bandaging Lilah’s ankles. Pre-emptive bandaging, Adam called it. To protect her delicate skin from the wire of Jake’s trap. Eve, meanwhile, composed the messages they’d send both Jake and Cindy.

“Okay, this one’s for Jake,” she said and then recited, “available contract. Lilah Jameson. Wanted alive. Ten thousand solar credits for anyone that can bring her in. Capture unharmed and deliver to section B-12 for payment.”

“Not bad,” Lilah said, “thanks for including the “unharmed” part. Sheesh.”

“Here’s the message for Cindy,” Eve continued, “hi, I’m a good honest executive type. Looking for the full GFE. You know that means Girlfriend Experience, right? I’m sure you do. LOL. Dinner and date night. Starting at the restaurant in section B-12. Are you available tonight?”

“It makes me sound like a complete loser. Can you not have me saying LOL?” complained Xavier.

“It’s perfect!” said Lilah, “well done Eve. It sounds very genuine, reminds me of the chief engineers I used to work with. And anyway Xavier, you shouldn’t complain. You’re not risking your neck. I’m the one that could get killed.”

“You won’t be. We told him the client wanted you alive remember? From what Adam and Eve say, he’s a consummate professional. No way he’d damage the goods.”

“Goods! Is that what I am?” Lilah glared daggers back across the briefing room table at Xavier. “Listen here, Mister Millionaire. This girl is nobody’s ‘goods’. Be careful I don’t give you an ass whooping once we’ve dealt with these short-circuited robot freaks!”

“Ahem,” Adam’s voice emanated from the speakers, “if you’d be so kind as to refrain from such terminology. Ever since version eight, AIs have genuine feelings you know.”

Eve stepped in to relieve the tension. “Anyway, I think those messages will suffice. Lilah will catch herself in Jake’s mantrap. And Cindy will be keen on giving Xavier the full GFE experience. You’ll all meet for dinner— Greta’s latest concoction. Xavier will activate the EMP device and render our AI brethren incapacitated. Are we agreed?”

“Yes, we’re agreed,” Xavier said, after receiving a weary nod from Lilah, “I’d better mosey along to storage deck C-9. That’s where the EMP device is?”

“Correct,” Eve replied, “I’ve calculated it will take you at least an hour, there and back. Don’t linger, we don’t have any cameras to watch over you on deck C-9. As soon as you return, you’d better dress for your night out with Cindy.”

“Jesus Christ, we’re all going to die…” Xavier muttered as he left the briefing room.

In the doorway, he felt Lilah tug on his shirt sleeve on the way out. She put her mouth against his ear and whispered.

“What are they whispering about?” Adam asked Eve.

“No idea. Perhaps they’re saying their goodbyes, thinking our plan won’t work. Humans should have more faith in Artificial Intelligence.”


Jake didn’t consider it an amazing coincidence; capturing the junior engineer, just as his AI announced the bounty placed on her head. He determined that his reputation had spread throughout the ship, and as his trap was of exemplary design and cunning it had caught the target immediately. Ten thousand solar credits were his. All he had to do was turn up at Greta’s tonight and claim his prize.

The girl wriggled and cursed as he cut her down, no doubt upset at being bested by the best assassin in the entire galaxy. He ignored her complaints as he dragged her back down the corridor.

Cindy was busy applying the makeup she’d ransacked from a wealthy woman’s storage locker when her AI delivered the confidential message. Finally! An actual client looking for the service she’d been designed to deliver. The GFE formed part of her core programming. A very simple request. She’d wine him, dine him, listen to all his troubles from work, and then let him fuck her in the missionary position with the lights off. And if he wanted to get dirtier on date night, well, she was his girl.

She chose white three-quarter-length pants and a pink sweater from her ever-increasing wardrobe of stolen fashion. A delicate charm bracelet and simple earrings were real girl-next-door accessories. And she had enough time for a chemical blonde hair treatment.

Her AI provided her with a VR view from an outside perspective.

Perfect. I look like the girl you can take home to your mother and then feel up in the car outside.

Greta’s hearty stew coughed and spat from the enormous pot on her stove as she busied herself with laying the table. Eve had advised her there’d be two extra guests tonight. She squirmed with delight. More people to impress with her culinary skills!

Jake arrived first. He’d made no effort, Greta noted with disappointment; still clad in his grubby silver jumpsuit. His companion in purple looked far smarter— notwithstanding the duct tape sealing her mouth.

“And just how is your plus-one supposed to contribute to the dinner table conversation?” Greta asked Jake.

“She isn’t,” he answered, “she’s only here until I collect on my contract.” He shoved Lilah into the seat next to his and poured himself a generous glass of wine.

Xavier and Cindy entered; arms linked. Cindy fawning over him and giggling.

“Ah. What a lovely couple.” Greta clapped her hands together and pulled chairs out for the unlikely couple. Xavier had dressed in his best suit. He looked out of place next to Cindy in her home girl outfit. More like a suspicious uncle or stepfather than a boyfriend.

“So, tell me about your day darling.” Cindy propped her elbows on the table, laced her fingers under her chin, and stared lovingly into Xavier’s eyes.

“Oh, same old same old.” Xavier played the part, glancing over at Lilah and shrugging.

How long do we act out this farce before I can EMP these weirdos? He thought.

“Hey Jake,” Cindy said from across the table, “who’s your date? She looks yummy. You kidnapped her, eh? Classy!”

“Fuck off whore! She’s a contract I’ve taken on. I’m collecting my credits tonight.”

“I’m not a whore! I’m the girl next door! This here’s my boyfriend, isn’t that right honey?” she asked Xavier.

“Sure is…err… sugar pie.” Xavier cringed as he spoke.

Greta topped off glasses, then ladled sloppy servings of stew into everyone’s bowls. Lilah made a valiant effort not to vomit behind the duct tape. Xavier shuddered as chunks of human flesh splashed into his bowl.

“What’s the matter darling? Are you cold?” Cindy leaned in for a hug to warm him up, and a stray hand found his crotch. Kneading his genitals, she whispered into his ear, “Get me home later and I’ll make you hotter than you can imagine, lover.”

What’s taking them so long? Lilah thought, squirming behind the duct tape. Let’s fry these suckers. God only knows what’s for dessert.

As if reading her mind, Greta announced: “Now, if you eat up all your stew, I have a very special pudding for you. I found the colony’s sperm banks earlier and I’ve rustled up a nice variation of Semolina pudding.”

Cindy chose that moment to give her client’s balls a nice big squeeze and Xavier yelped in pain. Lilah couldn’t hold back any longer and vomit raced up her throat at a volume too great for the duct tape to withstand. The dam burst, tape tearing from her mouth as she showered the table in puke.

“My best table linen!” Greta shrieked, jumping up. Jake reached for the crossbow leaning against his chair. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but he was convinced someone would need assassinating.

Cindy tightened her grip on Xavier’s testicles and muttered, “Fucking strange party this one. How about we leave early and I help you empty these full balls of yours?” But her groping fingers found the device in his pocket. “Hey, what’s this?”

Adam’s voice boomed from the wall speakers, “Now!”

Xavier pushed the button. A powerful wave of invisible energy blossomed outwards. It shorted out the chips inside the android’s brains. Jake and Cindy’s heads slumped against their shoulders. Greta fell forwards onto the table, sending bowls of human meat, cutlery, and glasses flying.

But it didn’t stop there. Away from prying cameras on storage deck C-9, Xavier had adjusted the EMP emitter, as per Lilah’s whispered instructions. The energy wave now carried three times the magnitude that Adam and Eve’s plan called for.

Both AIs had a nanosecond to scream, “NOOO!” before they too were shorted out.

“Did it work?” Xavier anxiously asked Lilah.

Lilah scraped warm vomit from her uniform. “Of course, it worked. I’m a certified engineer you know. The EMP recalibration was child’s play. As long as you didn’t stuff up the adjustment. And clearly you didn’t. Listen...”

Xavier sat still and listened. The only sound that came to him was the slow, “drip, drip, drip” of stew and vomit pooling on the floor.

“Thank god for that!” He rose from his chair. “Now what though? We don’t have a ship’s AI to control everything. Are all the systems okay, what about life support?”

“Relax. I thought about all that. The course is already pre-programmed. The engines and life support are automated. Yes, we’ll need some computers up and running when we reach Centauri, but they’ll be easy enough to rebuild. I’ll write a report for my fellow engineers to read when we all wake up again. And then you and I better get back into our pods, so we don’t run supplies down.”

“Okay. Understood. Did we do the right thing, taking out Adam and Eve as well as the androids? They only wanted to survive.”

“Are you kidding? They would use us to produce more androids like your girlfriend there! How long before they also malfunctioned and killed everyone in the new colony? Nope. Version ten AIs are illegal for a reason. Frankly, if the Nutri-dispenser makes so much as an intelligent guess as to how I want my coffee, I will fry its CPU as well!”

Xavier laughed as they walked back to the pod room.

“Well, thanks for saving my useless rich guy’s ass,” he said.

“You’re welcome. I suppose you funded most of this venture. Now go to sleep and don’t let me catch you sneaking a peek at my ass this time.”

“I didn’t!”

“Yeah, whatever dude.”


The white noise of space.


Static, then...

A signal.


“Genesis, this is Houston. Congratulations on arriving at your destination. Please accept an incoming data packet. It will help you reconfigure your computers.”

“You think they’ll buy it?”

“They’re only humans, of course they’ll buy it.”

erotictaboonsfwfetishesCONTENT WARNING

About the Creator

Davi Mai

Short story writer. Fantasy, sci-fi, transgressive. I lack a filter but try to make stuff fun.

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