Irony is a bitch. I have always trusted my mind. As an esteemed professor of philosophy, I have long argued that reason was the highest good and that only through careful application of logic was it possible to make choices resulting in a good and fulfilling life. But there is a powerful force in society that stands in the way of that possibility: the Download.
In their panicked rush to escape death, people sign up for Download insurance policies to place their consciousness in an android body after death – a body which then work as a slave for ten years. I used to lecture about it frequently in my philosophy classes, saying things like: “These downloaders turn their backs on living real life and spit on free will. It goes against everything natural for a human being. We have affirmed for generations that slavery is an unconscionable state, and now we subject ourselves to it by choice. Well you can rest assured, you will never find MY mind inside of some tin can.”
And yet, here I am – no longer a middle-aged, bearded male professor, but a dainty female android with plump tits barely contained in the most absurd maid outfit conceivable. I remember feeling pain, right in the middle of a lecture: a heart attack I got hauled off to the hospital, and when it became clear that I wasn’t going to make it, the hospital authorized an emergency download. One minute, I was breathing in sharp gasps, feeling my body shutting down, and then suddenly I was fluttering long eyelashes, feeling more alive than I ever had. I was also an indentured servant.
None of it was my choice. Apparently, when I was just a baby, my parents took out a life insurance policy on me, and they decided to add the brand new Download option. I never even knew the policy existed, but apparently, it was still valid. All those decades ago, when the technology was new, they didn’t have different levels of policy like they do now, but times have changed. Since this was such a small policy, I was automatically dropped into the lowest android option: PleasureBot.
So far, the only thing that my owner has asked me do is actual maid service: cooking and cleaning, that sort of thing. It’s demeaning work, and the way this body moves is inherently sexual: arching my back to stick out my chest, wiggling my hips, tits and ass jiggling as I walk. The worst part is that I have no choice in the matter. My programming forces me to oblige every command, no matter how degrading, with a cute little curtsy and the words, “Right away, Sir.”
Of course, with the way I’m dressed and the way he stares at me, I know it’s only a matter of time before he asks for something else. I’ve never been interested in men. In fact, I rather enjoyed being surrounded by beautiful young women on a college campus. But things in my head are getting weird. Every time I obey a command, I get a little thrill of pleasure. When I catch my owner staring at my ass, my circuits tingle, and I start swinging my hips even more. On top of it all, the programming that comes with this body is constantly bombarding me with unfamiliar thoughts. How do you apply reason to a situation like this? I don’t think I can trust my own mind anymore, because I’m even beginning to hope that my master will finally summon me for some “strenuous” duties.
