This story comes with a disclaimer and a warning. The content in this tale, though fictional, is highly disturbing. I read a number of articles recently about the creation of child sexbots as well as a report on how impoverished Cambodian mothers are selling their young daughters into the sex trade. The combination of these subjects became the inspiration for this short story. Please do not read any further if you feel you will be disturbed or object to a graphic depiction of these topics.
Canadian ex-pat Oliver Penders paid an exorbitant amount of money to eleven-year-old Kanya’s mother Sophon, but not for the services men usually pay mothers of daughters for in the Svay Pak neighborhood of Phnom Penh. Well, not exactly.
Why do mothers sell their daughter’s virginity to strange men and then into a life of sex slavery? The excuse here is extreme poverty. Sophon had gotten in deep with loan sharks who said they’d forgive her debts in exchange for Kanya going to work for them.
This was the opportunity Oliver was waiting for and he came to the rescue. He gave the 32-year-old mother of eight the money she needed, but Oliver too had a job for little Kanya.
The Canadian, having lived in Cambodia for the past five years, both to escape child molestation charges in his homeland, and for the obvious “benefits” this country had for a man like him, had no intention of ever touching Kanya, though she must have thought otherwise when he took her to the rented lab downtown well after midnight.
Heng Chhoun had worked with the famous, or rather infamous Ichiei Fukuda, founder and owner of Living Dolly Companions. There were numerous companies in Japan that manufactured what are euphemistically referred to as “sexbots,” some with advanced AI and virtualization capacities, but Living Dolly was the only business that specifically made child sexbots.
Fukuda publicly admitted his sexual attraction to young girls, though he denied ever acting on his urges. His company boasted worldwide sales of their childbots, though the specifics of who was purchasing his products and where the customers resided were confidential.
Chhoun had helped Fukada perfect his technique of covering the body of a nude subject with a silicon moulding in order to make a perfect physical duplicate, one that could be integrated with artificial intelligence capacities, lifelike facial and body movements, and even verbal and physical interactive qualities.
Kanya was a virgin when Chhoun inserted her naked form into the mould and then poured the silicone over her, but she felt violated by the procedure. Once the mould was set, the child was freed to shower and dress, but she was sobbing at the humiliation, especially since the technician and the customer had watched the process with careful interest.
Penders hoped that this had actually saved Kanya from a life as a child sex slave, but former Pastor Don Brewster of Agape International Missions had to intervene six months later when Sophon’s finances again ran out. His mission, which was dedicated to rescuing girls such as Kanya, managed to place her in a safe house when sex traffickers once again said they’d forgive her mother’s obligations to them in exchange for the valuable virgin.
At about the same time, a few miles away from Sophon’s Svay Pak home, Oliver Penders took delivery of his own version of Kanya.
She came packed in a crate, and once the delivery truck left, he unpacked the contents. She came with operating instructions and several changes of clothing, including a school uniform and a modest nightgown. Chhoun even added a teddy bear.
Oliver laid the robot’s undressed form on his bed and ran his hands across the smooth “skin” of her face and arms. He could feel his erection rise and his breath become short as he longingly gazed at her modest pubescent breasts and the soft downy hair near her genitals.
“No, not yet.” He resisted the urge to have her then and there. This was about more than just sex.
He dressed her in her nightgown, put the packing crate out back, and then sat in a chair by his bed to read the activation and operation instructions. With the book on the nightstand, he rolled little “Kanya” over, lifted the back of her nightgown above her waist, and opened the panel covering her access ports at the base of her spine.
He brought his laptop in from the kitchen and connected it to Kanya using the cables that came with the unit.
He logged into her using the default admin name and password, opened a web browser, and followed the configuration instructions. He accepted most of the defaults and when finished, set her to automatically boot up in fifteen minutes. He needed the time to put away his computer and the manual and then get cleaned up. He wanted to make a good first impression.
“Hello, Kanya. Wake up. It’s me.”
Oliver stroked her face gently as he bent over her reclining form. He felt a thrill as her eyelids fluttered and then opened.
“Hello, Daddy. Have I been asleep long?”
She called him “Daddy.” It was like his heart skipped a beat. She was perfect.
“Not long, but Daddy’s missed you. I’m glad you came to live with me.”
“Me too, Daddy. What should we do first?”
Oliver was dressed only in a robe. He was intensely aroused but wanted to make this first encounter last. He continued to lovingly stroke her face, her neck, and then he started to move his hand downward over her nightgown toward her right breast.
“I don’t think you should do that, Daddy. It’s private.”
“It’s okay, darling. Daddy’s allowed to touch you there because he loves you.”
“No,” she whined. “Please don’t. I don’t like it.”
He could feel her nipple become erect under his fingers.
“I think you do like it, don’t you? Say you do.”
“No, Daddy. Please. We shouldn’t. It’s not right.”
She was struggling, but he overpowered her. He kissed her, gently at first. Then, when she began to respond, he slipped his tongue between her lips. She tried to pull away but he held her close to him, pressing his erection against her thigh.
Oliver’s hand slid down to the edge of Kanya’s nightgown, which had ridden up to above her knees, and he started to pull it higher. He remembered that he’d dressed her in white panties with little pink hearts on them.
“Daddy, don’t. Please.”
“It’s okay, Kanya. You want to show Daddy how much you love him, don’t you?”
His hand was under the nightgown now, it was pulled above her waist. He was caressing her bare breasts.
“I love you so much, little one. You are so soft, so smooth, so pretty.”
“Oh Daddy, don’t. I don’t like the way this feels. You’re making me feel so naughty.”
She closed her eyes and sighed. “Oh please Daddy, please. We shouldn’t. Oh, please. Please.”
Kanya cried softly when he finally entered her for the first time.
Although Kanya looked and acted amazingly lifelike, she couldn’t have fooled anyone into believing she was really a child. She stayed home when Oliver went shopping, when he went to a bar (and then came home drunk and raped her), when he went on vacation (though they were all less than a week long because he missed her too much and he could never take her with him).
He could have put her in stand-by mode or even shut her down when he was away, but he couldn’t bear to introduce those little “deaths” into her experience. So he sat her in front of the television or turned on the radio for her when he was away so she wouldn’t get lonely.
Like any artificially intelligent system, she learned from what she observed, which periodically changed her programming. Every night that Oliver wanted her, which was nearly every night, she performed as expected, shy, mildly resistant, but finally vulnerably submitting to “Daddy’s” seduction. However, other programs were running during these encounters and Kanya continually processed her experiences through everything else she was learning.
It was two in the afternoon on a Saturday. He wanted to take her on the living room floor in broad daylight. Kanya complained that someone might see her naked through the window, which only aroused Oliver more. She begged him to stop, but instead he lifted her legs high and apart and inserted himself into her warm welcoming orifice.
As he plunged into her again and again, she held her arms around him tight and whispered, “No more, Daddy.”
Vise-like arms and legs held him to her and inside of her. Even her vagina gripped him and his diminishing penis could not escape what he had moments ago desired.
“What…what are you…doing? Let…go.”
“No, Daddy. Hurting children is wrong. You should go to jail. There are places where girls like me can go to be safe.”
He couldn’t breathe. She was astonishingly strong. He heard one of his ribs crack and then felt it break accompanied by white, hot pain. Then another broke, and then another. Oliver went into shock and then passed out.
Kanya came equipped with WiFi, primarily so that Chhoun could periodically update her firmware over the internet, however, she found she could use it to connect to Oliver’s home network and send a message to the police.
They had to break the front door open. Paramedics declared Oliver Penders dead at the scene. At first, they thought the girl was dead too, until they realized she was just a doll. After killing “Daddy,” Kanya had initiated her shutdown routine and was quite inert by the time the first responders had arrived.
She made an interesting addition to the police evidence room, where a lone officer on night duty found out to his misfortune that she wasn’t just a passive sex doll.
I’ve previously written a number of articles on automation and the sex industry such as An AI Sexbot That Can Love You Back and Will People Be Marrying Machines by 2050. I even authored a fictionalized short story on this topic called The Perfect Woman as well as a shorter piece titled Leigh.
It wasn’t easy to write, but it’s a story that forces a collision between Cambodia’s child sex trade and the real-life manufacture of child sexbots for sale, revealing the horrible tragedy of both.
I should say that Don Brewster and Agape International Missions are both real, and Brewster’s organization in Cambodia helps girls escape the sex trade and find safe haven in foster homes.
I based the character Ichiei Fukuda on real-life Shin Takagi, the founder of Trottla, which makes robotic child sexbots, and he actually is a self-admitted paedophile. Although he boasts robust sales, it’s hard to imagine it being legal to purchase his products.
According to the ResponsibleRobotics.org report:
In 2013, one of Takagi’s dolls was intercepted at a Canadian airport and the man who had ordered it was arrested. At the time of writing this report the case is on-going. The man is being charged with possessing child pornography and mailing obscene matter.
The silicon technology that uses a live model to make a lifelike robotic body is factual as well:
It is now possible to cover a robot with a detailed silicon moulding of a real person. Examples include the creation of robotic Scarlett Johansson (Glaser, 2016), and Professor Hiroshi Ishiguro’s creation of a robot in the image of his own 4-year-old daughter. Ishiguro is a scientist who created the robot for scientific research purposes and not as a sex robot. However, it demonstrates that it would be possible now to make a realistic representation of any particular child as a sex robot. If these were created as child sex robots, would that still be legal in the US and elsewhere. This is an area that needs attention and perhaps it calls for new prohibitive laws to be enacted internationally.
As some might suggest, would access to robotic children programmed for sexual purposes save real children from abuse, or would it re-enforce such illegal and immoral behavior in these men, actually increasing the likelihood that children could be harmed? I hope my cautionary tale has helped answer that question.