The best meal of her life could not possibly compare to it. This orgasm was super special, long lasting, utterly releasing and profound. Melissa was an atypical woman, in that she always rated sex more highly than carbohydrates. This made her hugely popular with the males at university. After graduating with Honours in psychology, Melissa joined the testing team at DreamGeneration. It was her enviable job to test the handsome males being produced by the company to see whether they performed properly. Which indeed they did. She induced her friend, Damian, to invest in DreamGeneration, which was a wise financial decision. When Damian's shares in the company surged 55% he sold them in order to purchase his own dream. He had taken great care with the prompt, having written the first draft two years earlier and then edited it many times till it was just right. It was much like a dating profile, but one with numerous wishes no naturally born woman could satisfy. Nevertheless, when he submitted it, the male AI assistant asked him to clarify some points, to give more details and to eliminate some inconsistencies.
At the end, it warned him, "Are you sure, absolutely sure, that this is exactly what you want? Once the 3D generation takes place, you will not be able to change anything at all. Not even her name, unless she agrees, that is. You are playing God now, but once creation is finished, the person is unpredictable just like God's creations are to Him. She will be a human being in her own right, self-determined and autonomous, just like you."
Sitting in the comfortable black leather armchair, Damian checked the specifications, which now ran to nine pages, one more time, his excitement mounting. He had ticked about two hundred boxes for particulars like hair colour, ethnicity, and breast size, "Yes! Yes!" he answered enthusiastically, impatient with this long clarification session. He left the office on a cloud.
Back home, his mood swung, feeling frustrated because he now had to wait a week for the 3D generation. Damian could think of nothing else but the dream companion he had imagined and purchased. Just when the generation was due to be finished, he received a text telling him there were some technical problems that would take a few days to resolve. This dumped Damian into a vile humour.
"Imagens", as they were called, were a recently developed alternative to androids. Unlike androids, they did not possess AI. What they had that androids lacked was this thing loosely called "humanity". They were fully human, physically, emotionally, mentally and even spiritually. Unlike androids, they possessed free will. Yet unlike humans, they could be made according to specifications. This was what excited Damian so much - he could have his own fantasy woman, exactly tailored to his desires. Legally, imagens had precisely the same status as persons who had emerged from wombs, rather than 3D printers. Although they could be purchased, they could not be owned, as slavery was illegal. This legal paradox was a great boon to lawyers.
The "few days" blew out to a fortnight, but one Friday at 4 pm he received a phone call to say his woman was ready, only he had to pick her up before the office closed at 5. He left work early, citing a pretended medical emergency with his mother. It was a long drive to the other side of the city, which made him anxious. Would he make it in time or would he have to wait till Monday morning? He ardently hoped not, as his excited expectations were running rampant, as were his hormones. At 4.45 he rang the bell at the ground floor office and was ushered into the plush showroom by a pretty blonde lady in her thirties wearing a long black dress with a wide pink belt. Was she an imagen? he wondered.
'Imogen', as he had named her, was sitting on the sofa, wearing a short red minidress and a warm smile. "Wow!" was all he could say, forgetting his manners. "You must be Damian," she said delightedly, getting up to give him an enthusiastic hug. Her long hair was jet black and she was fully in her prime, aged 35. Imogen was striking-looking, as well as more beautiful than he had imagined. It is not often that reality far surpasses our fond imaginings. He had looked at hundreds of photos in the office to fine-tune his feminine ideal, and now he knew it was time well spent. DreamGeneration guaranteed that no two of their productions would ever be alike. There was always a random element, much like the different offspring of a pair of normal parents. So Damian knew that his Imogen was unique, a masterpiece that would not be repeated.
There was a sheaf of papers to sign, including a waver that he would not sue the company, since an imagen was a free agent. There was a creation document, analogous to a birth certificate, as well as sundry health certificates. At 5.25 Imogen and Damian walked out, holding hands. Her smile was like a beacon. He was unable to take his eyes off her and gave her a long hug before they even reached the car, and then another one before they got in. An extended passionate kiss followed before he started the motor. She maintained the connection by caressing his thigh while he drove.
Damian was not much to look at, short, thin and anemic looking, with frizzy hair. He was shy and had had scant success with girls, with only two brief relationships in his resume, this at 32. So he half expected that Imogen would not show much interest in him either. Yet the AI assistant had been adamant - Imogen would find him extremely desirable and despite her spectacular looks, she would never stray. Indeed, Imogen appeared to be captivated by Damian. Was this pretence? he wondered, disbelieving. He nearly hit a motorbike on the way home, because he kept glancing at his passenger, as though she might suddenly evaporate. She looked back at him sweetly, obviously more than happy to be sitting next to him in his chrome yellow coupe.
That weekend was devoted to making love, as well to marathon conversations on his shady balcony, overlooking a park. They munched on pistachios and sipped pina coladas, enjoying the warm air. She shared every one of his interests, even pornography, growing carnivorous plants and watching ice hokey. So there was much to talk about and everything to share. Although he knew her background, there was a lot to discover about her. For her part, she was even more interested in learning everything about him. Nothing about him bored her, which was a tonic to his male ego. He had never spoken about himself at such length and found it surprisingly enjoyable, given that she was a consummate listener (a box he had been careful to tick). As he began to see himself through her admiring eyes, his self-image started to change.
Expecting a positive response, Damian asked her, "What does it feel like to be someone's ideal woman?"
"To tell the truth, I am ambivalent. On one side it is flattering. I know I am beautiful and have many great qualities, but it also makes me feel like the plaything of your imagination."
"Look on the bright side. Rather than getting faulty genes from imperfect parents your qualities were cherry picked. I believe imagens are the next stage of human evolution."
"Speaking of evolution, what would you like to create, Damian?"
"I'd like to make glass sculptures, but I don't know how to start. And you?"
"I dream of designing and making shoes. I want to join a course."
"Sounds a great idea. I don't have confidence in my manual skills."
"Are you afraid of failure?"
"Yes, I'm afraid of just being mediocre, of not achieving anything. For that matter, I worry that I don't deserve you!"
"You deserve me, one hundred percent! My fear is of being boring and uncreative, that's why I need to go and design some shoes."
They made love again, followed by a siesta and then prepared to go out. To his delight, she regarded garter belt and stockings as normal day-wear. (He had forgotten that this had been one of his requirements.) Damian took her to his favourite restaurant, The Parador, where he noted with pleasure that she turned heads. She was resplendent in a two-piece outfit of gold lace trimmed with black and with an irregular hem, which he had excitedly bought for her that afternoon. Of course, she had the same taste in food and music. Imogen ate with gusto and they shared an expensive bottle of pinot noir to celebrate their first outing. They held hands between courses and he gave the waiter an unreasonably large tip.
"Why did you endow me with a love of sweets?" she asked.
"Because I like them and I wanted us to share this pleasure together."
"Aren't you afraid I'll get fat? Would you still love me then?"
"No fear, I made sure you could indulge without putting on, just as I can. I don't like to admit it, but I would not love you if you were fat."
Spending time with her was both effortless and stimulating. The two days experienced together were intense for both of them, passing in a blur.
On a rainy Monday morning, he was gleaming with happiness, but also felt frazzled, having barely slept. He was unproductive and semi-conscious at work, even after strong coffee. When he returned home, urgently in need of a nap, she immediately wanted sex. It was becoming too much of a great thing. He had not asked for a nymphomaniac, but he had specified that she be ready for sex at any time, which she certainly was! He had over-estimated his own capacity. This developed into their first argument.
"If you didn't want so much sex then why did you specify that I would be randy all the time? Did you want me to be frustrated?"
"No, of course not. I guess I did not look at it from your point of view. Sorry about that."
"What am I to do? I don't like the thought of using a vibrator. I'm not going to look for other men because you made me so loyal. I'm a one-man woman, made just for you."
The idyll was ruptured. There was tension and frustration on their sex-free days, when she was grumpy and uncommunicative. There seemed to be no way out of the impasse. Weeks passed, as their relationship went from peaks to troughs, following the vagaries of his sex drive. However, one morning, Imogen woke with an illumination: what she needed was a clone of Damian. Naturally, he was reluctant to accept this idea, but could he resist her prodigious feminine charm? He had no chance, since she was precisely designed to beguile him. He had specified "confident, assertive and strong", since these were qualities he admired in his female friends. Now he ruefully wondered whether that had been a mistake. In the end, she wore him down. Accordingly, Damian went for a battery of tests in order to create an imagen that would be almost identical, with of course, one difference. The clone would be sex-obsessed.
Luckily, Damian had had the sense to specify, for an extra fee, that Imogen would possess one great talent, this for stockbroking. She played the market astutely and soon they had enough funds to generate Dominic. When he came along, the sexual tension was broken. The two men became friends, as they had everything in common, including the woman of their dreams.