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Fuck Emotive Corp
Buy a SIN cydoll
I wanted to see my goals day and night because I was fucking tired of barely surviving. For the sake of my sanity, the daily grind of selling myself to a corporation like a bitch had to stop.
It was dark, and the green glow of my projected goals looked perfect against the ceiling. When I reached out to switch it off, I remembered the broken pussy pocket in my drawer.
“Lights.”
The room lit up. I powered off the projector and pulled the drawer open. Everything had a fucking lifespan. It was in the mega-conglomerate corporations’best interest not to make products that lasted. Why would they? Not when they could keep bleeding people like me dry with constant updates and upgrades.
But what about the poor fucks who couldn’t afford to keep up?
I pulled out the lifelike mould, inspecting it. Pressed my thumbs into the entrance to spread it open. Cracks had started to show around both holes.
I sat back down at my computer and searched for silicone repair agents. I rephrased every possible keyword I could think of. There was no permanent solution—just overpriced patches and short-term fixes.
I sat there, staring at the screen.
No permanent solution. Just overpriced patches and temporary glue. A replacement sleeve cost more than my week’s groceries. The forums were full of the same complaints—cracking, tearing, stretching, degrading over time.
The issue wasn’t just with toys. It was everywhere. Dolls. Silicone sleeves. Prototypes. Sex tech. Even high-end models had a shelf life. No one had cracked long-term silicone repair.
I stared at the worn-out mould still sitting on my desk.
What if I could?
The thought hit slow. Subtle. Not lightning. More like a tickle behind the eye.
Something flexible. Durable. Easy to apply. Something that could bond like a second skin, maybe even restore elasticity over time.
I started typing. My fingers moved fast now.
Nanogel-based materials.
Medical journals. Patents. University white papers. I didn’t have access to the deep archives, but I had enough.
Flexible polymers.
Smart adhesives.
Self-healing biosynthetic gels.
Conductive nano-strands.
Most of it was overengineered. Or locked behind proprietary systems. But the foundation was sound. I could simplify the tech, take what already existed and make it accessible—commercially viable. Specifically for the sex tech and hobbyist community that the big corps didn’t give a shit about.
People didn’t want to throw their dolls away. They wanted to repair them. Maintain them. Extend their use.
If I created a two-part kit—an advanced nanogel formula with a tool system to inject, smooth, and seal it—it could work. Maybe even become essential.
