This is Valeria with your hotly anticipated update on Toronto Servos! It took a while but will be worth your wait. Last article we discussed their more, non-consensual dealings involving a gold digger being sent off to work for the man she was leeching off of, with the implication that as I type this, she or ‘it’ now is probably being gang banged on some yacht off the coast of southern France. Today, I bring you the heartwarming tale of when Ms. Ruby Eve did something special for someone in need.

LL: You said you wanted to tell this story, so by all means, take it from the top.

Eve: So, a couple years ago I noticed this 'guy' (I'll use that until the- you’ll know, put the male pronouns in quotes) tended to slow walk past our open garage doors. Taking nervous peaks inside, never creepy, and certainly not interested in the hardware. I noticed on the security cameras that ‘he’' would often look at the Dolls we were shipping out, trying to get a peek before we boxed them up. ‘He’ had been doing that for a while, so I knew their face. Didn’t pay it much mind, except something inside kept telling me what turned out to be true. I actually planned a smoke break outside just so I could look ‘em in the eye, acting friendly I gave ‘him’ a smile, but that look confirmed it. It’s the eyes, it’s always the eyes; we all have that look in ours, but it’s something no one would ever notice unless you’ve experienced what we’ve all experienced.

They were of a slightly taller stature than most men, a little thin and could use some help there, dirty blonde hair that wasn’t kept well, but nice cheekbones and I couldn’t help myself from thinking, “Yeah, that’s material we could work with.” Even if that feeling in my head kept telling me whatever was going to happen wasn’t going to be typical.

Finally, one day they walk in all timid, nervous. I think ‘he’ waited until I was at the front desk, I think ‘he’ knew about me. The poor thing was wearing clothing that didn’t fit, that hid ‘his’ body, and it felt like every step they took towards me was an act of will. Now, you know me by now, I’m a sadistic cunt who has transformed material that arrived bound and weeping into something beautiful for quite a few clients. I do that with a smile, it’s cash in hand for the squad, and a chance for me to indulge in the sweet moment when a person becomes a Doll. That and the blood, I fucking love the blood. Please ask for total conversions, not just because we make a wicked profit from them, but it means I get to help Tess with our little chainsaw.

I didn’t do anything of that sort that day, because I knew. That day, seeing ‘him’ walk in like that after so many months, my maternal instinct kicked in hard. I was going to take good care of this one, and I say that without the usual malice I say that sentence with.

I smile at ‘him’ and walk around the counter to meet them. ‘He’ was trying to spit out the words but- we're alike. I knew what 'he' wanted to ask and had already grabbed the paperwork when 'he' blurted out about wanting to be a girl. ‘He’ wanted us to convert him into a girl. I asked why they hadn’t gone to the medical clinic, but I think ‘he’ not only trusted us more but wanted to be a Doll, a girl Doll. Believe it or not, despite being a common fantasy in some circles, we do not get that request very often. Once in a decade, maybe. It’s a decision which changes your entire life, or even takes it away, and most people shy away from asking for it. This is fetish fuel and nothing but, typically.

We stood there quietly, fortunately there were no other customers in the building, something I think they were waiting for. I confirmed to them that I understood. Cards on the table, “I used to be a man too. I’m old and took hormones and eventually found a surgeon, and they fixed me, made me whole. You’ll experience an accelerated version of that, are you sure it’s the path you want to take?” ‘He’ nodded. I asked for identification, and he produced a valid NATO Citizen ID, and was twenty years old, which alleviated my worry they were under 18. Then ‘he’ said he didn’t have any money and was about to beg before I stopped them, explaining that for a situation such as theirs, I’d be willing to make an arrangement. I remember those days; I wasn’t about to add any more to theirs.

I take ‘him’ to the lounge and go over all of our conversion options, from your basic sex change to full on augmented or artificial body up to custom specs. When I pulled up vagina options on a pad, 'he' requested to keep ‘his’ cock, but ‘he’ wanted to be a girl. Not a problem. “Womanhood isn’t defined by your genitals, it’s a state of being in this world.” ‘He’ was nearly crying, so I wrapped my arm around ‘him’ and held them close. I told ‘him’, “Me and the squad, we’re going to fix what nature got wrong… I assume you want it to be painless?” ‘He’ nodded emphatically, so I assured him we’d go full on anesthetic before anything would happen.

‘He’ asked about the payment arrangement I mentioned, the special one. I explained that in certain, exceptional circumstances, I would foot the bill for the conversion. The catch was that when ‘he’ became a ‘she’ and more importantly a Doll, that they would work off that tab at our office. However we saw fit. ‘He’ asked if he’d get to have a life outside of Toronto Servos, knowing that tab was going to be huge. We negotiated and ended up with a schedule. A block of days as a Doll under our control, and then a block of days where they could live as a person.

That was important to them. They didn’t want to become some mindless Doll running a program, even if they could be put in that state by someone with the ‘keys’. I told them we could do that, and funnily enough, not one atom of my being felt like going back on that promise once it they went under. In the lounge ‘he’ signs all the paperwork, and that took a good long fucking while. But it’s always the lack of records that brings you down if the cops come knocking. Digital and print signatures were applied, and I stand, reaching out my hand. “Come along, dear. It’s time.”

I take 'him' to Bay 1 and get on the intercom informing the squad to meet me outside it. I talk to ‘him’ one on one for a little bit longer, “Is this truly what you want? Life as a Doll, even one with some free will is going to be radically different, nevermind you don’t know what it’s like to be a woman out there.” And yeah, I knew they understood. ‘He’ had signed those papers and provided the prints with certainty. I still had to ask, because I did my transition slowly, the old way, and that was hard. Slamming into the wall that is society as a new woman without any chance to figure out the nuances? I don’t know how the youth do it. The old methods were imperfect and slow, but you learned as your body changed, until one day every person you interacted with called you ‘miss’ or ‘ma’am’ and you realized you’d crossed an invisible threshold from man to woman, from an outside perspective at least. I remember that day, down to the date.

I laid 'him' down on the table, even put a pillow under their head, and handed ‘him’ a device. “You must click it three times, but there's a ten-minute cooldown between clicks. On the third click, a little needle's going into your neck and there’s no going back. Got it?" 'He' then asked me about personality mods. Poor thing had the heart of a hardcore punk rock girl in that flat chest of 'his'. ‘He’ wanted to wake up, still in control, but with inhibitions diminished, tolerance for obscenely loud music way up, the ability to drink and smoke like the nukes were coming pre-K36, and fuck all night in the alleyways. I liked ‘him’. “You got it. The specs are laid out, I’m going to brief my squad, meanwhile you have a decision to make.” I handed 'him' the clicker, and then left. I couldn't be present as to not influence the decision.

Three clicks came ASAP, as I knew they would. The squad was ready, the anesthetic took hold, I flipped the sign on our door to ‘Closed’, then took charge.

Total body feminization starting with the face, then C34's with extra pleasure sensors, hair that was indistinguishable from a human’s Doll’s in that side shaved style, with long platinum blonde waves falling down the other side. We did some permanent make-up around the eyes, gave the lips the premium colour changing ability, installed on-demand voice re-modulation. Most organs were removed, but we replaced them with the necessary components to keep a Doll running, and even put in synthetic lungs so she could smoke like a person, and a stomach and bladder so she could drink like one too (and piss, in a toilet or on people who either wanted it or not). I even threw in some freebies, like nails that could grow or retract at will and told Clockwork to program in electric guitar and motorcycle proficiency. Plus, this body could take a bruising, and keep on going. I made sure to keep those little freebies off Mikea’s tab, as she’d later wish to be called.

Then we got to the cock. Now, Mikea had said she wanted us to leave the cock alone but was open to enhancements. Oddly enough, she added, “If you can.” to the end of that request. We start work on the lower body, stripping off the last of her horrible clothes, and then we see it. Tess, covered in blood as usual (even sometimes when she’s not working, which is her thing no judgement) just sprints out of the bay. Harry was outside checking on the electrical feed, and while Bay 1 is soundproof, I think I heard Tess yell, “TRIPOD”. I’m sure that was it, because she runs back in and pointed to a dick which stunned us and repeated, “We got an all natural, fucking tripod here! And this is what it’s like flaccid!!”

So, the decision for a trans woman to keep her cock is a big one. I got rid of mine as soon as I could, but Mikea made absolutely sure we kept hers. Now, any trans gal choosing their genitalia based on sexual performance is making a mistake, there’s something in our heads that tells us whether it’s supposed to be there or not, and you listen to that. I knew Mikea was self-aware enough to know her brain and cock were in sync. I know she didn’t choose to keep her cock because it was one that men would kill their families to have. The whole squad stood around it in awe, and we’ve seen some real shit over the years. I finally said, “That thing’s nicer than what we install on high-end Dolls, and…” Tess finished my sentence, “I’m going to make it even better!”

Tess snapped her fingers, “Clockwork, do we have a pair of GC-950X’s in stock?” Clockwork, who is amazing at inventory management, said we had two pairs. “Great.” She looked at me, “You said spare no expense, right?” I nodded, and Tess got to work. “So, the gonads can be replaced with those, and I’m also going to need some compatible fittings and will work up through the sack and through the shaft to make sure the internals all function, but we’re leaving the exterior as is. If I fuck up this gift from God, he’ll strike me down.”

The rest of us worked on modifying the thighs, the feet, we kept her statuesque height because she was at about 6 feet and that’s tall but not overly so. Gives guys enough of a thrill without being threatening. I’ll admit, it was much harder work without Tess, who was consumed by augmenting the internals of a dick that had to be on loan from Zeus. Still, we got most of the body work done. Oh, we added a kickass pair of eyes that could change colour at will, I forgot to mention that. Harry ran off at a point to our wardrobe department, bringing back a beaten leather jacket, tight boot cut jeans, aviator shades, that kind of look. No tattoos, until Mikea’s debt was paid off she couldn’t get any as she’d primarily be a showroom Doll.

We did add a miniaturized fusion reactor where her heart was, as she’d be away for long periods of time and trying to pass herself off as human. The synthetic muscles over it even beat at different rhythms depending on how much the Doll’s body is exerting itself, but that’s just for show. The reason for the reactor is that charging is good and all, but ports aren’t common outside of places that deal with Dolls and with that she could inject herself with the deuterium-tritium solution into a special model of the charge and data port, which we embedded into the body so it could be covered up with a patch of skin that would rest flush when unopened.

While Clockwork was freed up to code, we had to finish the body work. We knew she wanted to pass as human sometimes, so T-1 was the obvious choice. That’s the grade of an advanced form of lacquer which adheres to human skin and soaks in, transforming its properties. T-1 is human-like, you can’t tell the difference. It’ll even bleed and scar and has all the elasticity you’d expect (which Mikea’s dick was going to need, to the point Tess decided to shield it from the upcoming bath and then do the dick’s skin there by hand). We even used the old veins and arteries to hook up a Blood Type D gland, allowing her to become flush or for someone to feel her pulse. Most Dolls get a more shiny or softer skin, but you can tell when you touch it that it’s synthetic. Mikea said she didn’t mind what the bill was though, just to do the best job we could, so a basin of T-1 mixed with a pigment which would leave her with a nice, tasteful brown tan. Nothing gaudy or too dark, just the right hue for a Caucasian who spends a lot of time in the sun.

The bay bed opens and dips Mikea into the bath of T-1 lacquer. Soon after, it brings her up and we went through the process of installing synthetic sweat glands once her ‘skin’ hardened, that took a long fucking time but that’s what you do when you’re making a human-like Doll. Finally, we do the usual cleaning and inspection. I go over again and again if I’d missed anything, but with the paperwork in hand along with my notes, we were good to go. Clockwork finished the program and debugging then started the upload. The squad went for beers, I went for a cigarette on the roof while we waited. Seeing her transformed on that table, made me wonder how I looked in that hospital bed to those wandering by.

LL: [It’s at this moment, in my flurry of note taking and focusing on the recording, that I look up to see Ms. Eve grinning at me. It took a moment for my brain to catch on to why, but when it did, I gasped and put my hand to my mouth.] “That was her in the showroom!”

Eve: You’re sharp, but I guess you never noticed that while I referred to all the other Dolls as ‘it’, I called that one with female pronouns, like a person. Like a part-time person, for the moment. You want to know what’s really fun? We deactivate the brains of the other Dolls, but Mikea’s aware of everything. She can feel everything. When clients use her, even when she’s just running code and is a passenger in her body, she experiences it all.

LL: [To our readers, shortly before this interview I received a tour of the showroom. The details of which will be forthcoming in the next issue once they are cleared with Ms. Eve. I did in fact see Mikea, assumed her to be another Doll, albeit a ‘kickass bitch’ looking one. I didn’t catch on to how Ms. Eve spoke about her in particular.] “Ms. Eve. You reacted when I said she was quote, ‘A Doll after your own heart.’ Have you two- [She cuts me off]

Eve: I am very maternal towards her. You can fuck her for a price, that dick of legends spews cum like a firehouse and she'll top you so hard you’ll need to go to a hospital for a patch-up. [Ms. Eve looked at her watch] Now, we have to wrap this up. So here’s the rest.

Mikea wakes up about four hours later, and I'm there to run the diagnostic alone in the bay with her. She was fucking wild, all that timidness was gone, and it was the most fun I'd had punching at a pad and sharing a pack of smokes. We went over our agreement (not that she could resist, but she’s enthusiastic about the work so no problems there), and then we just talked. She felt her new body, played with the enhancements, began recalling information that had been programmed into her with a delighted grin. I told her she was good to go, to go home and rest up, but she insisted I put her on a showroom platform that very day. I told her we’d closed up for the day, but she insisted. She wanted to simply be in that body, even if it was as a motionless Doll.

She’s always one of the first to arrive on days she’s controlled by us, and her happiness of finally being herself seems to infect her clients, although the fact she can rail someone harder than a freight train might have something to do with it.

The rest of the time? I don't know all the details, but we talk a lot when she's not under our control. She's found a 'pack' as she calls it, and I gave her permission to tour as lead singer of a band they started, as long as she makes up the time after. She leaves a couple weeks from now. The money she makes can go to closing her tab but given how hard she fucks in every sense of the word, and how she keeps clients happy, it's not going to be long before she closes out her debt. I’d say I’d be sad to see her go, but I have a feeling she’ll accept my offer of part-time work.

LL: Thank you for being so forthcoming. I’m sure Mikea doesn’t mind us printing her name?

Eve: Do you honestly think Ruby Eve is my name? She learns from me, and she knows you can change names just as easily as you do clothes. [Ms. Eve stood and gave me a polite nod] “This has been fun, we should do it again sometime, but work’s probably piling up on my desk.”

LL: May I see the showroom once more? Can I say hi to Mikea?

Eve: She can’t respond, but why not. Tell her mommy will come for her after we close.

LL: [Ms. Eve was about to leave when one last question struck me. I called out to her as she was headed to one of the doorways.] “You took someone you didn’t know off the street and my god, the cost of that conversion, you went all out! Even for another trans woman, you went way beyond what I was ever expecting. I don’t know what you did in the ten years you were away, but I know you’ve done many cruel things. You delight in the pain of others, but you did all that for her, and in the end, she’ll only repay a debt, there wasn’t any profit in this for you. Why?”

Eve: [She released the door handle and stood still a few moments, before turning to me with motes of tears in her eyes.] “Because no one was there for me.”