Editing Stripped Gears Writefaggotry (section)

==5==

Chantelle was a sexbot. It is highly probably that her owner, like too many before him, assumed that using a sexual service android for a competition such as this would increase the crowd’s enjoyment of the event. Comparing levels of crowd activity that night with fights both previous and thereafter, he was probably correct.

Chantelle was a young and beautiful women approximately one hundred seventy centimetres in height. Her hair was a colour that some would call “golden brown” and reached the base of her spine. Her eyes were wide and a dazzling shade of blue that men would find attractive. Every inch of her chocolate brown artificial skin was perfectly smooth within the limits of human tactile sensation. Her figure was precisely sculpted into the scientifically determined average of desirability for human males. Her programming reflected in every way her singular purpose as a physical pleasure tool, from the particular posture of her walking cycle to the idling animations she would run through whenever men were present in any capacity. She was a perfect sex doll. She was gorgeous. She was desirable. She was...

Pathetic.

Chantelle spent approximately seven minutes, three hundred sixty seconds, enticing the audience before the match, as she was programmed to do. Her owner sent her into the ring wearing a typically flamboyant outfit consisting of many layers of clothing, and then had her perform a striptease for the crowd. During the course of this, she would verbalise insults to her opponent and ‘talk dirty’ to both her owner and all those observing. She was very well programmed indeed. Her simulations of authentic human behaviour were most convincing, and her physical appearance even when completely naked had several audience members showing elevated signs of discomfort, no doubt believing on some level that perhaps this ‘machine’ was in fact a real woman and that they were about to watch her fight to the death.

Chantelle spent precisely sixty operational seconds in the ring.

At fifteen seconds, her lack of any dedicated high-speed optical assimilation processing left her with an obvious blind spot, which allowed me to penetrate her right upper arm with the retractable ram spike in my left forearm, damaging several major mechanical couplings and rendering the arm useless.

At twenty-one seconds, her inferior heuristic integrity monitoring system caused a programmed shutdown of several major actuators, rendering her legs unable to move for the remainder of the match.

At twenty-nine seconds, the ram spike in my left forearm penetrated her right breast to a depth of five inches and punctured three layers of her inner casing chassis, destroying four brackets, buckling chassis plate number 37B beyond repair and crushing two of her secondary memory processing banks.

At forty-six seconds, the leverage provided by the ram spike in my left forearm caused her upper torso casing to critically fail and I was able to open her upper torso by force, leaving her essential systems completely vulnerable.

At sixty seconds, I was able to remove enough components from her internal mechanisms without ceasing processing activity or causing system shutdown to allow me access to her cybernetic braincase. Which I then removed. With my bare hands.

At sixty-three seconds, the match was called to an end by the official observer when Chantelle had ceased all activity for three seconds. I was declared the winner.

If I had any kind of human emotions as I held the sexbot’s reinforced CPU box in my hands while the crowd cheered for my victory and the tangled bodily remains of Chantelle were removed from the arena, I would have felt one emotion in particular.

Satisfaction.