Why is all the genius being pipelined to Mars? Can we first address the unchanging diet of organic dick right here on our own planet?
The evolution of cock during the past three million years can perhaps be summarized in three words: slightly less hairy. I think we can do better. It is time for the Indongstrial Revolution. Bring forth the army of Robots Who Fuck.
What should the Fuck of the Future look like? Let us probe the robodating catalog and weigh the options. Wikipedia (I truly believe that the second coming of Jesus will be in the form of a free, user-defined online encyclopedia) writes that robophilia is a close relative of “statuephilia or agalmatophilia, which involves attraction to mannequins or statues,” but let me tell you, my fetish does not fall so far down the family tree. If it doesn’t have chrome buns (clear bubble domes/unidome is/are also acceptable), I’m not biting.
Wall-E
Wall-E does not yet seem of ripened age.
Something about him makes me fear that, much like Doogie Howser, M.D., his prolonged pubescence will be terminated by a confession of alternate sexuality, causing him to leap directly from the lilypad of 'child you cannot fuck' to that of 'man who will not fuck you.' At least I’ve got your picture on my Trapper Keeper.
Oh, but I will keep hope alive—mature, Wall-E, mature! In the meantime I will be waiting for you in my room, rubbing the fuzzy crotch of my footy pajamas with a purity ring and listening to the Jonas Brothers. One may ask, Can you possibly masturbate to something so cute? That is a well-guarded secret, filed in my brain beneath the heading: How To Get A Clit Boner From The Panda Bear Logo On Your World Wildlife Fund Calendar.
Gort from The Day the Earth Stood Still
For Gort, it’s definitely briefs. This would be very disappointing for me as a partner because novelty boxers are one of my favorite gift purchases, and I do not wish my holiday shopping routine to be thrown all akimbo. I guess I could buy him a watch.
Fans of Star Trek: The Next Generation will be drawn to his Geordi-like visor band, and I am a fan. Not only was Geordi Geordi, he was also LeVar from Reading Rainbow. What else is Gort? Tender? Certainly not sweaty. He doesn’t appear to have full rotational-cuff power of his arms, rendering him pitless.
Gort's downside: no mouth.
Lacking joints, when Gort cuts loose, how does one know? Ours would be a life sans lively jigs, cannonballs into the pool, bent arms while “The Funky Chicken” plays.
But being the life of the party isn’t everything. I feel like Gort would really shine were we ever trapped inside an overturned car.
Gort might be ideal for fans of missionary. What he lacks in flexibility he makes up for with posture: a perfect candidate for Fucking While Standing Flat Against A Wall.
Johnny Five from Short Circuit
No more going barefoot in the house.
A high level of trust would have to be established before I engaged in foreplay where pinch-claw fingers are involved. How would he get into bed? A ramp?
His eyes are perhaps the most endearing aspect of his physical appearance, being doll-like with the faintest hint of puppy. I also like how his neck seems to have a robo-Adam’s apple at its bottom. It is easy to imagine him becoming a pirate for the night, circular eye covered up with circular patch.
Is that a metallic dildo bent scorpion-style upon his back? Just place a yellow construction hat on his head and press the “jackhammer” command on his included remote control. If filling in potholes is a civic duty, then Johnny Five is an Eagle Scout. Let us help him earn his badge for stamina.
Conky 2000 from Pee Wee’s Playhouse
So he’s definitely not a purebred. I doubt jealousy would be much of an issue in our relationship–if any women really wanted to steal him away, I could easily supply them with a list of household parts by which they could make their own.
The downward slant of his headlamp eyes may indicate a possible substance abuse problem.
I feel like Conky would be ideal for a worry-free summer fling, but maybe not so good at tax time. Did you keep your receipts, Conky? Did you? He seems sort of like the guy at the frat house who will do or drink anything, provided at least four people are yelling his name.
I don’t mind putting bread (electricity?) on the table, but I also don’t like freeloaders. What are Conky’s marketable job skills? I feel like there’s probably something he could do around a miniature golf course, but that’s just instinct without research.
On the plus side, Conky seems like one of the only robots who could actually barf, therefore meaning he is one of the only robots who could actually party. I’m sure our life together would lead to many drinking games, and a well-used patio area in general.
I bet it is an effective feeling, when the limbs of your partner fall off during rigorous sex. Very "My, what strong kegels you have!" a la Little Red Riding Hood.
Box from Logan’s Run
The more pointy of the geometrical edges are a concern to me. As a couple, one of the larger challenges we’ll have to overcome is the soft tissue/opaline quartz divide.
His face is quite a throwback to already dead skulls. Combined with the reflective properties of his skin, this might do me some philosophical good. Mid-fuck, seeing my own eyes reflected back within the hollow chrome of his empty sockets, I would frequently contemplate my own mortality. Nothing like a little Nietzschean sex to spice up a case of the Mondays.
I wonder how flexible he is in regards to his name? Although I guess I like the manpussy connotations. It indicates space, whether constant or potential. The question then becomes: What’s inside Box? Does his monolithic triangle exterior hide a giant heart? A giant calculator? Stirrups?
Would the funhouse mirror effect of my multiplied and distorted image, thrown back at me while looking at him, start to get annoying? Does the angle and shape of his surfaces make me look thinner or fatter?
Tik-Tok, from the Land of Oz books by L. Frank Baum
The thing about Tik-Tok’s stove-like appearance that scares me is my suspicion that, were our date to go awry, his midsection might unhinge, abduct my pet, and upon closing become some kind of incinerator. On a more positive note, the interior storage space would come in very handy for sneaking a twelve-pack, even perhaps a pony-keg, into family reunions.
Tik-Tok is one of the more human looking robots, namely due to his facial features. He’s also one of the only robots to have hair. The Sam Elliot 70s coke/biker moustache, combined with the metallic safari hat, seems to indicate a sense of adventure. Something to tickle, something to tip.
Though the pipeish legs and arms feel like they have the ability to fully retract, I would still have to be on top. Yet I’m not that sure what “top” is in this scenario. The center of his orb is his bellybutton. Is this his erogenous zone? What type of umbilical tentacle-sex would I be in store for?
The wind-up key on the side could be a curse or a blessing. Pro, it’s a T-model crank alternative to Viagra, each turn guaranteeing performance. But for how long? How disappointing if I had to get off, mid-ride, and recrank! If stopping to rip open a condom kills the mood, what kind of a buzzkill is having to dismount and physically reanimate your lover?
R2-D2 from Star Wars
What exactly are the phallic symbols decorating his upper chest? R2-D2 definitely has mystery going for him, and maybe that would provide a sense of excitement. Imagine wondering not just How good will this be? but also, How will this even happen?
And is it just me, or are comparisons to Danny DeVito somewhat natural? I’m imagining a remake of Twins where the Terminator plays the taller brother.
I think, as a lover, R2-D2 would take me the farthest out of my comfort zone. Part kegerator, part ATM (sounds good in theory), I feel like he needs to be anthropomorphized with some creature comforts before I could really go with the flow of things. Monocle?
I’m not altogether dismissing him as an option. There are things one can do to increase the powers of attraction. What if he played music? If his upper dome could become a chocolate fountain? (Actually, I hate to seem easy, but a cape would probably seal the deal.)
Yet I should want him for him: pure and naked. Due to his tripod design, he’s more or less sturdy–if he tipped over the first few times I tried to fuck him, I would not give up. The answer is to practice frottage with a gumball machine, come back and repeat.
The fact that his “eye” or lens or whatever looks suspiciously like a camera might sort of freak me out/turn me on were he to interrupt me in the bathroom or shower, his cyclops vision zooming slowly in on my soapy parts.
Meatworms, relax. Human dick could never fully be replaced by robotic dick (at least not until robots are able to go hot tubbing). I'm not looking to give up skin; I just want to be sure to get all of my vitamins and minerals. What's wrong with a little more iron in my diet?
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