Page 41 of 404: Consent Not Found
I didn’t look away.
The background was a graveyard of discarded femaleness: silicone breasts hanging like fruit, a wall of synthetic eyes staring from jars, pelvic sections impaled on metal rods. The horror wasn’t the gore. It was the enthusiasm of the upload. The technical detail and pride.
And still—somewhere inside me—I felt awe. Envy. Not of what he had… but of what he was willing to do.
He angled the camera downward.
“Anal cavity retrofitted with V7 pain sensors from an old ObeyAll series. Had to splice it in manually—none of that factory-safe wiring. Watch.”
He twisted his wrist.
The doll flinched. Her body seized, silicone back arching. A synthetic whimper rose, followed by glitchy breath sounds. It didn’t sound human, but it was close enough to make my jaw tighten.
Socketsurgeon kept his fingers buried as he tapped the small of her back.“See that twitch? That’s node spasm. Means the nervous loop is intact. Took me six hours to reprogram the response delay—worth it. She tightens on cue now. No lube required if you get her warmed up.”
The doll’s head jerked sideways, mouth twitching. Her one eye blinked. Rapidly. Not in fear. In programmed mimicry.
“She doesn’t need consent anymore,” he said, matter-of-fact.“She was built to please. Now she was rebuilt to obey pain. That’swhat they always miss when they go for realism. Real women flinch. Real pain makes you compliant.”
The comment section flooded as he rammed his fist in up to the wrist.
I exhaled through my nose.
He’d gone further than me. Not in brutality, but in clarity. There was no illusion of affection in his lab. No love. No tenderness. Just function. Control. It disturbed me—and yet I was still hard.
I glanced toward the kitchen. Charlotte was humming again, plating my food with a smile.
Worlds apart.
I looked back at the screen. A new comment popped up.
Devbotdom69_: What sensors did you say again? ObeyAll V7s? You using A2 chip or hardwired sync?
Socketsurgeon999: Custom fusion. I locked her out of idle mode—pain keeps her active. Stays tighter too.
My cock twitched. The video glitched slightly as he started to fist her harder, muttering something about clamp reflex being“damn near perfect now.”
I imagined Charlotte. Her smile. Her soft cheek against mine when she curled beside me in bed. But then… her mouth slack, her limbs parted, her voice uttering those same programmed moans—not from pleasure, but from learned reaction.
Could I?
No. Not yet.
But Socketsurgeon… he hadn’t asked permission. He hadn’t needed to.
And that made him something else entirely.
The screen flickered again as he leaned in toward the camera.
“You want to make one of these?” he asked, breath fogging the lens.“All you need is the right tools. And no conscience.”
The feed cut.
I stared at the blank screen for a moment longer than I should have.
Then I turned back to my dinner. Charlotte was smiling, waiting patiently at the table.
“Everything alright?” she asked sweetly.
