That didn’t mean a day didn’t go by that the urge to go back there and find out didn’t nag at his gut. But he was too afraid of what he might find. He knew he couldn’t bear the thought of finding out his friend, after all these years, had gotten greedy and sold a mint-condition Andrea to some passing trader. He really couldn’t blame him. But it would tear his guts out, nonetheless.
Eventually, as with so many things, the popularity of the androids would fade. A few years after their introduction, cyborg units were rolling off the line. Machines covered with real flesh and body parts that still didn’t say no, have headaches, or get PMS. But even their time was to be short-lived. Ironically, the gender that they were supposed to make life more hospitable for would be their undoing. The numbers of women in space gradually increased through the years. In many stations, bases and colonies, newly-arrived ladies often found men already spoiled by a new class of female that fit more closely to man’s ideal concept of what a woman should be. They never aged and their beauty never faded. They never gained weight nor did they find the man unattractive if he did, or if his hair started to turn gray and thin. They never said no, and they never looked for fulfillment elsewhere. What more could a man ask for?
Well, this just could not be! No man deserved this kind of happiness! Human women came to loathe these soulless automatons that catered to a man’s every whim and need. Back on earth, special interest groups lobbied against the “sexist” and “chauvinistic” faux females. The manufacturers, with sales already in decline, had no interest in a protracted battle over the issue, legally or ethically. Besides, they’d already made their profits. In what appeared to be an act of appeasement to the various women’s groups, they announced they would discontinue production. However, there was nothing that they could do about the models that had already been built, as they were protected under the A.I. Rights (AIR) Act. Even today, it’s quite common to see these neon-haired beauties at remote ports of call on Mars or in the Belt.
Tiger tried to reconcile it all. Still, even if they were made to be screwed, these were machines. These people are creating living, breathing, biological beings simply for men’s whims. As much as I may sound like a hypocrite … something about that seems wrong!
Tiger was jarred out of his reminiscing by Jocko’s voice. “Now, here’s something verrry interesting.” Jocko displayed it for him. “Project Yiff.”
“Yiff? Sounds like a lap dog barking.”
“A yiff is like the people who used to go to those comic book conventions back in the day. Their big thing was … wait for it … cartoons and images of humanized animals emphasizing erotic and sexual aspects.”
“Now that does sound promising.” Tiger was fully attentive now.
“Indeed it does!” Jocko was working through the security mechanisms. “They sure didn’t want anyone snooping around in here. It would take a dammed good hacker several minutes to break into this baby.” He smiled wickedly. Suddenly, the file began to open before them. “Good thing I’m the best on the planet!”
“Holy shit!” Tiger exclaimed in awe, as pictures and reports began to materialize before him. “What is this? What the fuck is this?”
“Just what it appears to be,” Jocko answered. “A line of fantasy creatures for the super-rich to use for whatever they desire.”
Tiger couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Picture after picture of anthropomorphic creatures, obviously designed and genetically engineered for one thing: sexual pleasure. There were a few of the male gender, even a few hermaphrodites, but the overwhelming majority were female. Not only were there others like Amber of the vulpine persuasion, but other species had been spliced. The canine and feline races were also represented. Menacing looking leopardesses, sleek cheetahs and regal tigresses. Even cute little bunnies and skunks!
“Granny’s Jesus! There’s some twisted people in this world!” Tiger looked on in disbelief.
“You got that right!” Jocko replied. “Twisted and obscenely wealthy. Look at what they paid for those things!”
He was right. Just one of those creatures carried a price tag of several million points. But as he read the spec sheets, he knew it was money they considered well-spent. The human DNA had been harvested from fashion models, movie stars and beauty queens. It was then carefully manipulated to ensure that each one met the buyer’s specifications. He read the customization reports, where each client was brought in for a one-on-one meeting to personally put the final touches on his purchase. After all, if you’re paying millions for a fantasy, it should be exactly what you wanted. None of the purchasers were identified by name, as each one was assigned a number and the transactions were laundered through offshore banks.
Still, he wondered what kind of person would shell out that kind of dough just to screw some mutated, furry piece of ass? Was a fantasy worth that much? Was it ego, knowing that money was no object? Or was it simply knowing you had something that the rest of the world would never even know about, that you belonged to an exclusive club of the ultra-rich and decadent.
A few things suddenly began to make sense to him now, as he read on. Each one was capable of releasing powerful synthetic pheromones that could bring a human to the highest state of arousal, willing or not. He understood now the strange scent and taste. He never stood a chance, although deep down, he now doubted he could’ve anyway, chemical inducement or not. He felt his groin stir as the memory of the morning’s events rushed back to him.
Another little tidbit he quickly discovered was that her body
