My friend PH called me a few weeks ago to tell me about robot babies coming out of robot vaginas. “Yeah, that shit’s crazy,” he said. “Real robot babies coming out of real fucking robot vaginas!” I couldn’t even count the ways this intrigued me. First of all, robots are fucking cool. I’m not a techno-geek or anything like that; I just like the idea of robots doing shit for me. I used to dream of robots getting me beers while I was watching the World Cup and shit like that.
And then there was the robot vagina. Jesus Christ, the possibilities were endless. Before I go on, I must tell you that I’m not one of those dudes who fucks machines or fake vaginas or anything like that. I kick it old school. Just give me a bottle of Jergins and a good internet connection, and I’m ready to go. Anyway, I had to know more.
“Dude, where did you hear about this? I need details.”
“Well, Laura…” Laura is his wife and she delivers babies for a living—mid-wife, I think you call it. “She was at work and she was getting prepped for some students who were coming in the next week when they wheeled in this robot vagina.”
“No shit. It’s not just a vagina either. It’s got legs and a belly and all that. It might even have tits. I didn’t want to ask about that though.”
“And robot babies come out of there?” I said.
“Oh yeah. It’s some new training tool. She said they video it, making sure the hand movements are correct and all that.”
“That sounds like a very realistic robot pussy.”
“Oh yeah. That’s exactly what I was thinking,” he said.
We talked a little more about it, and then we talked about his kids and work and shit like that. When we got off the phone, I tried to look this up on the internet. I searched “robot vaginas,” “robot babies,” and everything else I could think of. I found a bunch of sex toys, some tiny robots, but no real robot pussy. My attention span is pretty short when I’m doing research, so I kind of gave up after twenty minutes. I smoked some cigarettes, watched a Hilary Duff movie, and went to sleep. That night I dreamed about robot poon tang.
I usually take dreams as some sort of sign. Usually it’s a sign for me to call up some ex-girlfriend and see if she wants to have sex. (That almost never works, by the way.) Anyway, I knew I had to find one of these robot pussies and try to fuck it. I knew exactly where to go.
I could have gone to Baylor, where Laura works, but I didn’t want her to know what I was up to. She might get pissed off at PH for telling me about it. Presbyterian Dallas was the place. I pretty much lived at that fucker for four months last year, due to a horrible drinking accident which ended with my pancreas exploding. Anyway, I knew where everything was and secret ways to get there. I took a shower and hopped in my car.
Driving up to the hospital kind of scared me, like a flashback or something. I pushed that out of my mind and thought of robot pussy. I imagined again how realistic that shit must be. I mean, if your hand movements have to be correct, then the robot pussy must have robot pussy muscles, right? I kind of got a boner driving into the parking lot. I got out of my car and smoked in the no-smoking zone to piss off this one security bitch. (She kept trying to get me kicked out of the hospital—even while I had tubes and IVs and shit everywhere.)
I said Hi to the gift-shop chicks and this nurse I knew who was sitting in the lobby. I rode up the elevator with fifty people, and they all looked sick. I used a shitload of hand sanitizer the second I got off the elevator. I was wondering what I should say when I got to the nurse’s station when I got the baby floor, but I was like, fuck it. I walked up and waited for someone to notice me. It took a while, which didn’t surprise me. “Hi, I’m Trey, and I was wondering where the robot babies and vaginas are.”
“The what?” she said. She wasn’t quite as friendly as I’d hoped.
“Well, I’m about to start mid-wife school, and I want to see the robot vaginas.” I was sure that would get me right in.
“Are you from Building Three?” Building Three was where they kept the crazies, the drug addicts, and the retards.
“No. I just wanted to see what I’m getting into, and I figured y’all wouldn’t let me see any actual vaginas.”
“You’re right about that,” she said. “But we don’t have any robot babies or robot vaginas here. Can you hold on a sec?” She picked up the phone and dialed the security extension. I’d seen that shit enough to know. I knew she was lying about the robot pussies too; I could just about smell them.
“Thanks,” I said and walked as quickly as I could to the elevators. I took the elevator up to the sixth floor to hide out and say hi to some of my nurses. Unfortunately, none of the hot ones were there, but neither was the super-mean Asian one. Shay was there, and she hugged me hard and told me I looked great. I loved her; I never had to ask her for my pain shot, and she never talked about me getting addicted or how I shouldn’t be smoking cigarettes. Big black ladies make badass nurses. (That wasn’t a racist statement when I wrote this.) We chatted for a few minutes, and then I walked to the stairwell in the back by the ice machine.
As you might know, hospitals are fucking mazes. It can be a bitch to just find the right room. But behind the scenes, it’s crazy. It’s like that shit in The Shining, except that it smells like shit, piss, and chemicals. Luckily, after you’ve lived in a hospital you know the back ways. I knew I couldn’t go right back to the baby floor because the security people might still be looking for me. I walked down the stairs and through the emergency room to smoke out back. I smoked three cigarettes to pass the time before I couldn’t wait any longer.
I walked back to the second floor and grabbed a plastic gown and some gloves. (For some reason, the second floor is totally empty.) I walked up the back stairs to the third floor and poked my head out the door. I didn’t see that bitch nurse or any cops, so I let my gut guide me to the robot pussy. I walked passed the back elevators and through a door marked “Do Not Enter.” Those signs don’t mean shit, especially if you act like you know where you’re going. The ones they don’t want you to enter are locked.
I went through a series of rooms with all sorts of medical equipment. All these back rooms have at least two doors—if not four—so I knew I could make a quick escape if I needed to. Three or four rooms in, I ran into a doctor. I could tell he was an intern, so I wasn’t nervous. He said, “Sir, can I help you?”
“Yeah, man. I’m just looking for my wife. I’m totally lost.”
He seemed to be used to freaked-out and lost husbands, and he gave me directions to the nurses’ station. I back-tracked and went around the room he was in. Three rooms later, I saw her. Holy fucking grail.
She was lying on one of those things with the stirrups, and the robot vag was staring me in the face. She was wearing a gown, but they didn’t have the decency to cover up her business. (This is very fucking common. I swear to god, my jacked-up dick was hanging out for three weeks while I was in a coma.) She wasn’t quite as sexy as I’d hoped; she looked like a mannequin/crash-test dummy. There were plastic panels all over her. The look on her face was awful. It was like she was right in the middle of shooting a robot baby out of her robot snatch. I had no idea where to start.
I walked closer and saw a control panel. There were various scenarios on the screen, but “Fuck” wasn’t an option. None of the options looked sexy, so I didn’t start any of them. I looked around and stuck my finger in her pussy. It was dry and rubbery, and something stopped my finger and three inches in. There was no way my pecker was going in there. I decided to open up her belly panel and see what was going on. This was a bad idea.
The cavity was filled with blood and shit and the fucking robot baby. That little fucker had some sort of a piston up its butt. It was that damn robot baby who was blocking my finger. I thought about trying to unscrew him or whatever, but I didn’t want to touch all that shit in there. I realized that if I was going to fuck this robot chick, I was going to have to help her give birth. I went back to the control panel and pushed the “Birth” button.
The second I hit the button, she started screaming and scared the fuck out of me. I looked for the volume knob but couldn’t find it. I put my hand over her mouth, hoping she would quickly shut the fuck up. Right as I did that, she ripped a monster fart and some doo-doo type substance came out of her butt. Jesus Christ, this is realistic, I thought. I figured that the robot baby would shoot right out of her snatch in no time, but five minutes later, there was nothing but the moaning and bowel sounds. No more poop yet, so that was good. I was really going to have to do some work now.
“Push,” I said. She groaned. “Come on girl, push.” Bowel noise and a little more poo. “You’re dilated to fifty centimeters.” She didn’t say shit. Goddammit. I started breathing like a maniac like they do in the movies, but that didn’t do anything.
I decided to massage the robot pussy, hoping that would help things along, but the second I touched it, some bloody, robot pussy juice squirted me in the face. I almost puked. She screamed again, and I felt like I’d sort of violated her. “Sorry,” I said. I was going to need some professional help to get this baby out. I had to call Laura. (One time Laura and I got super drunk and passed out on the bathroom floor together, so we were pretty tight.)
“Hey, Laura. I need some help.”
“What can I do for you?” she asked.
“Um, well, you know that robot vagina you told PH about?”
“Yeah.” She was starting to sound wary.
“I’ve sort of run into one, and I need to help it give birth.”
“Are you fucking serious?” she said. Then, “Of course, you’re fucking serious. What’s wrong with you?”
“I don’t have time for this. You need to get out of there before you get arrested.” She hung up on me. I guess our drunken bonding moment meant nothing to her.
I looked at the control panel again noticed a button that said, “Next.” I pushed it and walked back around to the business end. When I got there, a robo-turd flew out and hit me in the face. I wiped it off and told her to push. (Any idea of fucking this thing had gone out the window, but I would be damned if I was going to leave her to give birth alone.) Then I noticed that her pussy had opened up a bit, and I could see the head. “That’s right, girl. Keep pushing.” I did the breathing thing again, and more blood and shit squirted out. But once again, things seemed to stop.
I went back to the control panel and pushed the “Next” button again. Man, that’s when shit went wild. That pussy opened up and the baby robot shoulders started to come out. Hell yeah, I thought. I started yanking on that little fucker’s head, saying “push,” and breathing like crazy. No matter how hard I yanked on him though, he wasn’t going anywhere. I pushed the “Next” button again.
She screamed, bloody pussy juice flew out around the baby, and he popped all the way out. Unfortunately, he was still attached to the piston thing, so I unscrewed him and wrapped him in my gown. Of course, I slapped his little butt first, but he didn’t start crying. Goddamn, I was relieved. I had successfully delivered my first baby. I positioned her arms and put him there. “Good job,” I said. “You have a baby boy.”
“Ugh,” she said.
I was so proud, I thought about going to a bar with my buddies and buying some cigars. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. That’s when there was a knock on the door.
Like most hospital fuckers, they didn’t wait til I said “come in” before they busted in the door. It was that bitch nurse. I flicked some of the bloody juice in her face and ran out the other door. I could hear her screaming for security and telling me to stop, but I was hauling ass—already missing my robot baby. I ran down three flights of stairs and straight out the back door. I got to my car and flew past the parking attendant without paying. Finally, I was on Central Expressway, feeling home free. Son of a bitch, that was close.
When my breathing finally slowed and I knew I wasn’t going to get caught, I thought about my baby. I knew I was never going to see him again, and I couldn’t stop crying. I almost stopped to get a bottle of bourbon, but realized that I would probably end up back at the hospital. If I lived this time, I would be going straight to jail, so fuck that.
I think about my robot baby all the time, and I wonder how he’s doing. When I go to sleep at night, I imagine a nice robot house with his robot mom and a nice robot dad. I picture his first steps and camping trips and soccer games. The first day of school. Graduation. Him going off to college. Sometimes I cry, and sometimes I go to sleep smiling.
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