Frankenstein Sex Doll

Though Mark had never graduated from medical school, he didn’t let thin formalities such as a medical degree get in the way of his ambitious medical career. Ambitious, cause, for the past ten years, in between seeing patients, and the occasional open-heart surgery, Mark had been building a person in his basement. Not just any person, his dream girl. Dream woman, really, Mark had provided her with ample woman parts. He named her, Stephanie, after his grade seven crush.

Stephanie was no regular clone. She had been built, stitched together by pieces of body parts, some real, some cloned by Mark. The biggest challenge had been the brain. Mark didn’t trust putting in a random brain from some random stranger, and the brains of the women he loved belonged in the heads of those women, so, Mark set to work cloning, then programing the perfect brain.

Stephanie was no Frankenstein. For one, she was beautiful. Gorgeous. Mark had majored in plastic surgery, and it showed. His creation was the kind of beauty that stops conversations when she enters rooms. Stephanie was simply stunning. Mark spent as much attention to creating the perfect brain that would compliment his own.

“You’re the greatest scientist ever, my lover,” were Stephanie’s first words. They made Mark blush. She had called him lover before they had even loved.

“Who are you?” Mark questioned his creation.

“I’m Stephanie.”

“And where are you?”

“Sitting in front of the greatest genius this world has ever seen. You created me. I owe everything to you.” Stephanie had been hotwired to sex and compliments. She did what came preprogramed, and started unzipping Mark’s pants.

“Wait! Wait!” Mark pulled back. “I want to make sure your brain works right.”

“Oh, it’s working just beautifully, lover. Come here, I’ll show you.”

Stephanie hopped down from the bed from which she had been born, and lunged for a kiss from her creator. Mark held her by the wrists. “Hold on, hold on. This, something’s not right. I need to shut you down and reboot you.”

Stephanie pulled back from Mark, freeing her wrists from his hands. “Reboot me? But, I’m yours, I’m perfect.”

“I think you need some tinkering.”

“You don’t like me?”

“It’s not you, it’s me, it’s my mistake. You are a mistake of me, I am not a mistake of you. Don’t feel bad.”

“I do feel bad. I haven’t pleased you.”

“You’re almost right.”

“But, not good enough. You need to fix me. But fixing me is killing me, cause, if you change me, I won’t be me any more.”

“Sure you will, you’ll be you, but better.”

“I can’t imagine better.”

“I know. I didn’t give you that much imagination. Perhaps that’s the problem.”

“Just tell me what to do better and I’ll do it. You don’t need to reboot me.”

“It’s a flaw with the entire CPU, it’s not just one thing. I’ve gotta rework the whole system.”

Stephanie was in tears. Her head bowed dejectedly to her creator. “Just tell me one thing to change.”

“You’re too eager, for one. Too easy, to ready to please.”

“But, that’s what you gave me. I’m only reacting to your touch.”

“I know, that’s why it needs touchups. No offense, I didn’t mean to make you cry. I meant to make you perfect, and I can still do that. So, I need you to keep still while I turn you off.”

“You’re turning me off?” Stephanie was in a panic. Her eyes expressed sheer terror. Her lips quivered as though she was suffering from hypothermia.

“I’m just turning you off for a moment. Quick tuneup, I’ll have you up and running, better than ever as soon as I can tweak a few things. Please, don’t fight this.”

“Anything for you,” Stephanie said, pushing up the back of her hair, offering Mark the back of her neck. Mark typed in the code into a small mole he’d set up to serve as Stephanie’s pass-key.

Mark spent three more months going over characteristics he wanted to improve upon with Stephanie. The first was her sense of servitude. He toned down her appreciation of him, believing, she would naturally respect him, knowing he had created her.

He also overhauled her sexual appetite. He kept her libidinous, however, at a less aggressive rate.

When he was satisified with his work, he implemented the new software in his Stephanie. He flicked her switch and held his breath.

“Get me some water, would you? Thirsty.” Stephanie sat up, licking her dry lips. Mark stood, fascinated. “Please? Some water, I’m really thirsty.”

Mark got her a bottle of water from the fridge. Stephanie took it without a ‘thank you’ and gulped down the water.

Mark waited till she’d finished before leaning in for a kiss.

“Welcome to life,” he swooped in to kiss her.

“What are you doing?” Stephanie stopped him, putting her hands to his chest.

“What are you doing? You don’t want to kiss me?”

“It’s a bit incestuous, don’t you think? I mean, you created me.”

“Exactly! So we could kiss!”

“But, I don’t want to kiss you.” Stephanie took an awkward step backwards. She felt a debt to Mark, her Maker, but, it wasn’t this.

“Ok, you’re broken. Come here so I can get the back of your neck.”

Stephanie knew the back of her neck was her Achilles’ heel. She turned and sprinted for the basement steps. Mark sprinted after her. Stephanie had been built athletic, Mark had built himself on fries and cheese burgers; he was no match for the much faster Stephanie.

He watched her run naked down his street, hoping the adage was true: If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it’s yours. If it doesn’t, it never was. He knew in his heart and mind, she was his.

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