I found myself in the unfortunate position of being a single father at 40. After my own had failed me, I had begun to doubt my own ability to perform as one. Sure, I could build hundreds of apparatuses that kept me company throughout my time as a teen, and now I had friends, colleagues, and a social ring to validate every finding and breakthrough I made, but nothing fully convinced me that I was strong enough, smart enough, to break the cycle my parents had so cruelly forced me into.
Still I pursued the feeling of carnal pleasure. There were many women, most only looking for answers to questions that I knew, grasping for some shred of sense in a world gone sideways. I knew they weren't actually into me, but I had what they wanted: a sheet of paper in which they could use to feign pedagogical expansion. They only wanted the homework answers.
And I was willing to give it to them. And they were willing to take it from me.
Until I met Linda. Tall, red-headed, wide-waisted with a pink headband and a yellow vest over a white polo. I still remember her to this day. She didn't want homework answers. She didn't want a faux facade of intelligence hiding the source of her so-called intellect. She wanted me. And I wanted her.
I still remember the taste of her thighs, the feeling of them pressed against each ear. "Alvin and the Chipmunks; The Squeakquel" had been playing at the drive-in, but neither of us had watched that night. It was unlike anything else. Why she had paused in between her euphoric moans and loosened her grip on the back of my head to look me in the eye, I'll never know. Nevertheless, my tongue remained where it was, but my head rose to see her, looking down, her body reflecting the light of the drive-in screen behind us.
Every curve was illuminated, from her soft, pale hips, up to her belly button, along her smooth, beautiful body, right to her thin, vulnerable neck. And then her eyes.
She said, "Heinz. Please don't stop."
And so I didn't. I felt her body tense as I returned to my task. Her legs closed around my head slightly, providing support. I continued to kiss the tender flower of Linda Fletcher until she put a hand over her mouth, ran her fingers through my hair and gripped my head again, and released, trying to keep quiet for the sake of those around us. After that, she pulled my head up and we continued making love into the night, long after "Alvin and the Chipmunks; The Squeakquel" had concluded.
We were 19. She has kids now. And so do I, but regrettably, not with her. Enter Charlene, the other major installment of my long and complicated past with women. I was 21, freshly dumped, cutting my losses with my brother at the Kizmet, a bar in down-town. Roger introduced me to legal liquor that night, and legal liquor introduced me to a woman whom I'd initially assumed was a lesbian.
A long night in a shitty motel room proved me wrong, and nine months, a wedding, a divorce, a custody battle, and another 19 years has left me with nothing but regret and my wonderful daughter, Vanessa.
I hoped I wouldn't fuck up Vanessa the way my folks had fucked me up. The way years of phony connections and repressed feelings had. She deserved a smart father, a father who was there, who didn't fight with her mom - as much as he wanted to sometimes. It was this motivation and drive to grant Vanessa a somewhat normal life that lead me to invent an apparatus that would solve my problems with women and Vanessa's lack of normalcy with one foul swoop.
Pieced together from the scraps of my failed projects, it sat on my balcony, overlooking the stinking cesspool known as the Tri-State area. Here it was: the Anthropomorph-Inator. No woman would ever want to date me, a 40 year old single father who's best friend is a robot named Norm. But there was one living creature who would be there for me through thick and thin; man's best friend.
I had adopted a pug from the shelter a week ago and was preparing the experiment. Of course I didn't expect this test to yield a true companion. I expected to break a few eggs before I made the omelette. I glanced at the dial on the side of the machine. The settings Tiny, Twink, Fit, Muscular, Busty, and Milf described each level of anthropomorphism I would test. I set it to "Twink" and grasped the lever, preparing to pull down hard, when the sound of shattering glass rang out through my lab.
The foot of a platypus connected with my jaw. Like a flash, I fell forward onto the machine, my hand brushing the dial. The source of the blow flew past me, knocking the pug off the platform in which it stood. In my daze, I attempted to lift myself up, but accidentally grabbed the lever. As I put my full weight onto my arm, it shifted down.
ZAP!
My vision went white. Then green. Finally, it faded back into the purple of my lab. Glass shards lay around me, decorating the floor with streaks of reflected light from above. The pug - still in the form I'd last seen it in, ran in circles, chasing the nub of its tail.
Slowly, I shifted my gaze to the platform.
Feet. Dainty, smooth, teal feet. Thin, tender ankles. Pristine, shaven calves, resting against one another. The teal skin kept flowing into a pair of thighs, round and sultry, with a tasteful hint of cellulite. A waist, wide and beautiful, with the shape of an hourglass. The figure before me was naked, but it wasn't embarrassing. Everything about it was graceful, soft, alluring, and sexy.
It was at this point that I turned to the dial to see what I'd accidentally turned it up to. "Milf". Wonderful.
I returned to my previous activity. A teal belly, smooth and almost glowing, highlighted by the presence of gorgeous stretch marks, lining each shape and curve. As my gaze reached the breasts, I held my breathe. The boobs were nice, but the shape of the shoulders and curvature of the biceps made me blush slightly. Finally, I made it to the piece de resistance: the face. Crawling up the neck was not easy, as it, too, was infused with an aura of majesty and beauty, but the chin, the cheeks, the forehead, the eyes. It all made took my breathe away. Where a mouth should have been was a duck-bill, pointing directly at me, inviting me, beckoning me. The creature's long, flowing, blue hair draped over it's shoulders, completing the vision.
"H-Hi."
"Doctor Doofenshmirtz." The the effervescent being raised a hand to their head, depositing a brown fedora. Shit.
