Part 4 – The Exhibition
From my perch in the back of Nick’s shop, the world felt like it was buzzing with possibilities. The custom collar, its matte-black surface cool against my skin, had become a symbol of our shared adventure—a blend of tech and trust that made my heart race. When Nick called me a few days after our hotel escapade, his voice carried that familiar mix of excitement and mischief.
“Em, I’ve got a big one for you,” he said over the phone. “There’s a huge service robot exhibition this weekend—think tech geeks, industry bigwigs, the works. I’ve got a prime spot to show off my sexbots, and I want you front and center. You up for being my display star again?”
My pulse quickened at the thought of being displayed again, this time not just in Nick’s shop window but at a massive public event. My skin tingled at the idea of countless eyes on me, seeing me as just another one of Nick’s perfect creations, it sent a thrill through my core.
“Count me in,” I said, barely hiding my enthusiasm. “Same set up as before, same collar, same rules?”
“Same collar, but upgraded security,” Nick replied. “And… I’ve got a surprise for you. You’ll see when you get here. Wear something comfy—you won’t need it for long.”
I arrived at the shop the next morning, my stomach fluttering with anticipation. Nick greeted me with his usual grin, but there was a glint in his eyes that hinted at something big. He led me to the back room, where the dressing machine hummed quietly, its lights casting a soft glow. But what caught my attention were five sleek, humanoid figures standing in a row, covered by a cloth, with a quick flourish Nick pulled it away and my breath caught.
There were five sexbots, each one an exact replica of my body, their faces eerily familiar, their curves, even the way their short hair fell, it was like staring into a mirror, except these mirrors were currently lifeless. Their blank, serene expressions mirrored mine, their bodies poised in perfect stillness.
“Nick…” I whispered, stepping closer to one of the bots. Its skin was flawless, its short hair styled just like mine. “You made these… from me?”
Nick rubbed the back of his neck, a mix of pride and nervousness in his expression. “Surprise, Em. I used the scans to create a limited run of Emma-model sexbots. They’re top-of-the-line, fully programmable, but don’t worry—no consciousness, just programming
—they’re just shells. You’re the real deal, the heart of the display. I thought it’d be fun to have you blend in with them at the expo. No one will know which one’s human.”
The idea sent a shiver down my spine—a delicious mix of excitement and vulnerability. To be indistinguishable from Nick’s creations, to be one of many, displayed for all to see… it was the ultimate surrender to the fantasy. “I love it,” I said, my voice trembling with eagerness. “Let’s do this.”
Nick’s grin widened. “That’s my star bot. Let’s get you suited up.”
The dressing machine whirred to life, and I stepped inside, the familiar cool touch of its scanners sweeping over me. This time, it crafted a tight latex catsuit, glossy black and form-fitting, hugging every curve like liquid night. The suit was seamless, the material was smooth yet restrictive, amplifying every movement with a subtle creak.
Across my left breast, the machine embossed Nick’s shop logo—a stylized gear with “Nick’s Bots” in bold white letters—and a scannable barcode, identical to the ones on the other Emma-bots. The outfit was completed with sleek, ankle-high boots and a high ponytail, the machine applied subtle makeup, giving me a polished, futuristic look. I stepped out, catching my reflection, and felt a surge of pride. I looked like a high-end pleasure model, indistinguishable from the other bots beside me.
Nick handed me the custom collar, its matte-black surface with silver accents gleaming faintly, its blue LEDs dormant but ready. “Same as before, but I’ve upgraded the encryption, so no more surprise hacks.” he said, his voice soft but firm. “Once it’s on, the system takes over. You’ll move like they do, act like they do. You good with that?”
I nodded, my heart pounding. “Make me your sexbot, Nick.”
He fastened the collar around my neck, its weight familiar and comforting. As he activated it with his tablet, the LEDs pulsed to life, and I felt the neural interface kick in. My body relaxed into a smooth, robotic grace, my movements guided by the system while my mind remained sharp, savoring every moment.
“Unit E-001 operational,” I said, my voice carrying that playful robotic lilt I knew Nick loved.
The other Emma-bots were activated too, their LEDs glowing in sync with mine. We stood in a perfect line, six identical figures in matching latex catsuits, ready for transport. Nick’s team loaded us into a sleek, climate-controlled truck, each of us secured in a padded slot like precious cargo to prevent any damage. The ride to the exhibition was surreal—I was just another bot, nestled among my duplicates, the gentle hum of the truck lulling me into a meditative state. The collar’s feedback loop kept me calm, reinforcing the illusion that I was part of the inventory, a piece of Nick’s world, and the thought sent a delightful shiver throughout my body.
The exhibition hall was a sprawling maze of lights, sounds and people, filled with vendors showcasing everything from cleaning droids to companion robots. Nick’s stand was a centerpiece, a sleek chrome platform with a rotating stage and a holographic sign reading “Nick’s Bots: Pleasure Perfected.”
The crowd was already gathering as we were unloaded and positioned on the stage, each of us secured to a display stand with rings at our ankles, waists, and wrists, just like in Nick’s shop. The bar between my legs pressed against the latex, sending a familiar thrill through me. As the motor started, the stage began its slow rotation, and I felt the eyes of the crowd lock onto us.
The audience was electric—tech enthusiasts, curious onlookers, and potential buyers, all buzzing with excitement. They admired our identical latex-clad forms, the glossy catsuits catching the light, the barcodes and logos marking us as Nick’s creations. Some leaned in close, examining the craftsmanship of the Emma-bots, their fingers brushing the latex or tracing the chains on our outfits.
A man in a suit ran his fingers along the latex of the bot next to me, testing its texture, and I felt a thrill knowing they couldn’t tell I was human. “These are next-level,” he said to his friend. “Look at the craftsmanship.”
“Incredible detail,” another man said, his eyes lingering on me. “Are they all this realistic?”
Nick, standing nearby in a sharp blazer, played the salesman perfectly. “Top-of-the-line,” he said, gesturing to us. “Fully customizable, Responsive neural interfaces, top-tier programming.
responsive to any command. These are the Emma-model prototypes—orders start today.” He shot me a quick wink, and I felt a flush of warmth, knowing I was his secret weapon, hidden in plain sight.
Some attendees were bolder, their hands brushing my catsuit or tugging lightly at the barcode patch.
The crowd’s attention was intoxicating. People snapped photos, some scanning our barcodes with their phones, pulling up Nick’s shop website. Others asked technical questions about our programming or durability, while a few made bold comments about our “capabilities.”
Each remark fed my fantasy, making me feel like a prized object, a perfect sexbot on display. The collar kept my movements minimal, my expression serene, but inside, I was alive with exhilaration, loving the way the crowd saw me as just another bot.
One woman, a tech journalist, her eyes narrowing as she examined my face, she ran her hand along my arm, testing the texture of the latex. “This material’s amazing,” she said to Nick. “They’re so lifelike, and the neural interface? How responsive is it?”
Nick grinned. “Responsive enough to feel human. Want a demo?” He tapped his tablet, and all six of us shifted in unison, striking a new pose—hands on hips, heads tilted slightly, a perfect synchronized display. The crowd gasped, and I felt a rush of pride at being part of the show, my body moving effortlessly under the collar’s control.
As the day wore on, orders poured in. Nick’s tablet pinged with notifications—clients wanting their own Emma-model bots, some requesting custom outfits or programming. I caught snippets of their excitement: “I want one in red latex,” “Can you make it speak French?” Each order made me feel like a star, my image replicated for others to enjoy, while I remained Nick’s original, his personal bot.
The attention was intoxicating. People snapped photos, scanned our barcodes, and whispered about our “features.” Some made crude comments—“Bet she’s fun in private”—and I loved it, the objectification feeding my fantasy. I was Nick’s creation, a sexbot on display, and every stare, every touch, made me feel more alive. Orders rolled in, Nick’s tablet buzzing with requests for Emma-models in different colors or with custom programming. Each one felt like a tribute to me, and I reveled in it.
By evening, the crowd began to thin, and Nick approached the stage. “You’re killing it, Em,” he whispered, his voice low so only I could hear. “Ready to wrap this up and be mine again?”
My lips twitched into a faint smile, the collar limiting my expression. “Beep. Unit E-001 ready for private session,” I murmured, my voice soft but teasing.
Nick chuckled, deactivating the display motor and releasing me from the stand. He guided me to a private corner of the stand, where a curtain shielded us from view. The other Emma-bots remained on display, their LEDs glowing softly as they continued to rotate for the remaining crowd. Nick’s hands brushed against my latex-clad body, sending a jolt through me as he removed the collar’s active mode. The LEDs faded, and I felt my full control return, though the thrill of the day lingered. “You were perfect out there,” Nick said, his eyes warm. “The crowd loved you. And I… I loved watching you shine.”
I grinned, stepping closer, the latex creaking softly. “I loved it too. Being your bot, being seen… It's everything I wanted. But now, I want to be your bot, just for you.”
Nick’s expression softened, and he pulled me into a kiss, his hands tracing the contours of the catsuit. “Deal,” he said against my lips. “Let’s get you back to the shop. I’ve got plans for my star bot tonight.”
As we left the exhibition, the other Emma-bots loaded back into the truck, I felt a surge of anticipation. The day had been a whirlwind of exposure and surrender, but now, it was just me and Nick. I couldn’t wait to slip back into his world, to feel the collar’s pulse and his commands, to be his personal sexbot once more. The latex clung to me like a promise, and as we drove back to the shop, I knew this was only the beginning of our shared adventure.