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You can come by, and there is no pressure to join in.
Watch, touch, play.
We’ve got two new units arriving—one is a refurbished SIN model with sensory upgrades. It could be fun.
Address sent. Private building, complete discretion.
I stared at the message.
The rational part of me wanted to scoff — what kind of man needed a“community” to get off? But another part… the part that had recorded every moan, every synthetic twitch Charlotte gave me, the part that uploaded it for praise and envy — that part was curious.
They weren’t asking for Charlotte.
Not yet.
Just a taste. A sample.
And if their dolls were damaged in the process? That wasn’t my concern.
I ran my hand down my thigh, watching Charlotte from the corner of my eye. She was powered down again, curled in her favourite resting pose. Peaceful. Waiting.
I typed back:
$inner$kin001:Sounds like a plan. I’ll stop by.
Let’s see what those dolls can handle.
? ? ?
I arrived late. Just how I liked it—less attention.
The apartment was high-rise, tucked on the edge of the industrial district. Neutral gray exterior. Dead giveaway for private shit. A single-use access code had been sent to my inbox with a winking message from Masterbaytor71:If you’re not ready to sin, don’t bother entering.
I stepped into the place, and everything inside reeked of sanitized filth—candlelight, leather, and lubricant. Cameras were mounted discreetly in the corners, their little red lights blinking like knowing eyes. Three men were already there, masks on, drinks in hand, and bodies half-lit by the soft red glow of ambient lights. One wore a full metal visor. Socketsurgeon999, no doubt. The other two? Plague doctor and porcelain half-mask. No need to guess who Doll_fucker2008_31 was.
I didn’t greet them. Just nodded.
There were two dolls laid out already. One was strapped down on a cross-shaped table, modified with what looked like joint tensioners and a throat pump. Her chest was flush and red, like she’d been slapped for a while. The other was kneeling between Doll_fucker’s thighs, taking him in like her programming demanded.
“Glad you showed up,” Masterbaytor71 said, raising his glass.“We figured you’d be curious enough to watch, maybe even… test the goods. No pressure.”
I nodded again, keeping my expression unreadable behind my own mask. My breath echoed slightly in the rubber.“I’m just here to observe,” I said flatly.
“Sure,” Socketsurgeon said, stroking the back of the strapped-down doll’s head with mechanical affection.“That’s what they all say.”
The moan that came from her wasn’t real. But it sounded like it.
I took a seat in the corner, letting the scene unfold. The men were careful—too practiced not to be. They adjusted the doll’s internal sensors, cycled through pain-to-pleasure ratios, and even triggered a simulated orgasm through spinal synapse override. I recognized the software lag when her back arched—too fast, too sharp. She wasn’t built for this kind of use, not without reinforcement.
But that’s what they got off on. Pushing limits. Breaking boundaries.
I sipped the drink one of them had handed me. Burned on the way down.
My cock stirred at the display, against my will. The kneeling doll turned her head slightly, tracking me. Her eye contact was dead-on. Her mouth, full. I shifted.
“Ever tried sharing, $inner?” Masterbaytor asked, watching me watch her.
“Not yet,” I murmured.
