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Sodom and Gomorrah

By Bridget Midway


Dr. Noah Wiit is a scientist who no one trusted. After losing his wife nearly five years ago, Noah has been on a downward spiral of self-destruction, not caring about himself, the humans or the Earth. While weeding out sexbots that can be used as soldiers in the Federation Army, he comes across a cyborg who turns his world upside down.

Vivian Yarbeck is a woman no one believed. Captured in a sexbot raid, she proclaims her innocence to anyone who will listen. But when the one man who she feels can help her doesn't believe her, she wonders if she'll be able make it out of this situation alive. When chance brings them together, they discover a new side to themselves that's both scary and exciting. Can Noah learn to love again? Can Vivian trust him with her life and her heart? When the fate of the humans and Earth falls on them, can they put aside their differences to save mankind? Or will their pasts haunt their futures?



Used to be Noah Wiit would be bothered by the screaming, moaning, and howling coming from the cells that lined the main hallway here at Sirius and Galax. Now the sounds washed over him like the silence of outer space. He'd become numb--so very, very numb.

"Fuck me!" One female sexbot reached through the bars for Noah, nearly grabbing his sleeve.

Why the hell hadn't the Federation housed these beings in soundproof containers instead of this dated incarceration system?

He scratched his chin through his bushy beard and kept his gaze straight ahead. There was a reason he and the other scientists on the moon called the place Sodom and Gomorrah. The High Commander had chosen the moon as a place to ship all of the sexbots and cyborgs programmed to be nothing but glorified whores.

"Straight up my ass, baby! Don't you want to do me that way?" A male cyborg licked his lips and tried grabbing Noah's crotch.

Now that Noah knew how to navigate through the lair, he deftly moved away from the cyborg's range. In his twisting motion, he ran into Al-Tomlyn Luc, one of his colleagues.

"Another day in the bowels of Hell." Al-Tomlyn extended his hand over to Noah's shoulder.

Just like he had with the clamoring cyborgs, Noah walked faster to avoid his touch. "We just have another month to weed through them. Should go quickly."

"Wow, I guess after a year of doing this, a month doesn't seem too bad. I don't understand why the Federation hasn't had us disable all of the sexbots instead of wasting our time interviewing them."

"I guess for that one in a hundred that can actually be reprogrammed into a soldier."

Noah could care less about salvaging a few bots for the Federation. The assignment on the moon allowed him the solitude he needed. If talking to sex-crazed humanoids gave him a bit of privacy, he would do it. He just regretted that, within a month, the project would be over and he would have to go back to real life, back to the memories.

"I'll suck your cock. Come on. Don't you want to put your dick in my mouth?" The female cyborg pulled down her top to expose her breasts.

Al-Tomlyn stared at the enhanced woman longer than a good scientist should have.

"I'm more concerned about finding the chameleon." Noah turned the corner toward the interview room.

"You actually think such a cyborg exists?" Al-Tomlyn brushed his hand over his salt-and-pepper hair, then adjusted his glasses. "A cyborg that blends so well as a human that, without looking at their skeletal system, we won't be able to tell that they're not really human. We're scientists. We're smart. We have lots of technology."

"Knowing Dr. Lars Urlean, she or he not only exists, we may not have even captured it in the sweep. That volatile creature could wipe out all inhabitants on the moon if it wanted. It's the only one with a self-destruct capability." Noah felt nothing at the declaration. If he encountered the thing, he just hoped the punishment it doled out would be swift. He cleared his throat.

"Then why hasn't it done all of this mass destruction, Doctor? If such a violent, temperamental, and unpredictable cyborg is out there, why haven't we encountered it yet? Surely in the sweeps, we would have found her."

"Or him." Noah scratched the back of his head. "I don't know. I don't think we have found it. I think it's still out there, laughing at us. It'll need sex. When there are no more cyborgs left in the general population, and humans turn away from it, then it'll surface."

"You think?" It was in Al-Tomlyn's two-word inquiry where his foreign tongue became more pronounced. The man was a master of ten different languages, but his primary one--a hybrid of the old Chinese, Indian, and Russian--still overtook his dialect.

"I know so. It'll be pissed off at us for taking away its sexual outlets."

Al-Tomlyn blinked. "You think it'll get violent and come after us?"

"Don't leave! Please help me!" Another female cyborg extended both hands through the bars for the two men. "Save me!"

Noah took a step to the side, away from her, without giving her another glance. "I think in desperation, it'll do just about anything." He turned to the security guard next to the interview room. "I'm ready for the first subject." Then he faced Al-Tomlyn. "I'll talk to you later."

"You going to join the rest of us for dinner?" His colleague closed his coat around his chest.

"No, I have something I need to do tonight," Noah and Al-Tomlyn replied at the same time.

Noah didn't know he'd become predictable. He just didn't see where his social interaction with his fellow scientists would help him. Mona would have told him he was being silly, and that he should go to dinner with his colleagues.

Mona could always get him to do things he didn't want to do. And when she did, he ended up loving whatever activity she persuaded him to undertake. Without her, there was no reason to push himself.

In his standard abrupt manner, Noah concluded their conversation. "I have to go." Then he ducked into the interview room and waited. As though on automatic pilot, he set out his digital recorder on the steel tabletop.

Needing to take the edge off before starting his day, he dove into his shirt pocket at his chest for a quick shot of Kicker, a concoction Noah created in the lab that gave him a sky-high feeling and let him shut out the rest of the world. To everyone else, he was afflicted with the same migraine issues that had plagued Dr. Sonjie Tuumlar.

One shot relaxed him. Two shots helped him sleep. Any more than that in one sitting would do him in.

Noah glanced up at the small black dome that housed the camera watching him and his sessions. Mona would have hated him taking the illegal drug. He wasn't hurting anyone else, just himself.

Noah located the drug stick. Just as he brought it up to the side of his neck, the door opened. He tucked it back into his pocket and faced forward.

"Here's your first one, Doc." The dark-skinned guard pushed in a female cyborg.

Some of the newer cyborgs were harder to detect. Without the noticeable tattoo on the back of the neck, they blended in with other humans. Noah, however, could tell them right off the bat. He noticed little things like pupil dilation, a nervous twitch to the lips, or sometimes they way they avoided looking into mirrors. His instincts hadn't let him down yet.

The one in front of him today looked like one of the first cyborgs to be assembled. If the bad wig didn't give her away, then it was her stiff-legged walk and her rolling eyes.

There was no hope in salvaging these versions. They were too rigid to work in battle unless used for bomb detection. But since their only function was to fuck and be fucked, even that task was out.

"Have a seat." Noah pointed to a chair across from him.

"I'd rather sit in your lap." She struggled to make her way to him, but as soon as Noah held his hand up to halt her, the guard grabbed her and forcibly sat her in a chair. The steel joints in her legs screeched, echoing off the walls in the small room. She turned her attention to the guard. "I like it rough."

"I'm sure you do." As instructed, the guard stood in the room beside the door, his hand resting on top of his gun in his holster.

Noah announced in the recorder the date and time. He scanned the small screen on his organizer. "What's your name?" he asked the cyborg. He took a deep breath and caught her faint plastic scent. Yes, this one was old.

"You can call me whatever you like, handsome." She winked, and it reminded Noah of the old kewpie dolls from several centuries ago.

"Fine." Noah placed both hands on the table to push himself up. "I'll just look at what's stamped on the back of your head."

She covered the crown of her head and held up her other hand to him. "Grace. I'm called Grace."

It was always so strange to Noah that these cyborgs would be so bothered by the idea that they weren't human. He knew there would be no way she would allow him to take off her wig to see what was tattooed underneath. Vanity prevented her from being revealed.

"Grace what?" Noah pressed.

Grace smoothed her hands over her platinum blond hair. She had attempted to make the regulation smock that all cyborg prisoners had to wear more flattering to her figure by ripping out the thin white seam that went around the bottom of the garment to make it into a belt.

Noah couldn't tell if it was age or if she was made that way, but her skin looked tanned. "What's your serial?" he asked more specifically this time.

"Can't you just call me Grace?"

Tired of playing her game, Noah glanced at the guard. "Officer Ionta, please remove her hairpiece and give me her serial number."

Grace bolted to her feet. "Wait! Wait! Fine, it's Grace X98111G54."

"Sit back down." Noah hated being a hardass, but he couldn't befriend these things.

She did as instructed.

"When were you created?"

She remained quiet. She peered over her shoulder as though Officer Ionta was going to leap onto her back and expose her for the fraud that she was.


"Manufacture date was fifteen years ago." She absentmindedly picked at her fingernails.

Noah noticed that she molded her fake loose skin around her hands and fingers. When he remained quiet, she peered at him.

"What?" Grace set her hands on the table.

"Fifteen? I've never heard of one of you lasting longer than seven years at the most." But then again, Noah didn't exactly pay close attention during the cyborg training meetings.

"I'm not lying." Her left eye rolled. She closed that eyelid for a moment.

Noah stood. "If you don't mind, I'd like to check that out for myself." He came around the table to stand behind her but she jumped up.

"Please, don't. Can't you take my word for it? You can check the records against my serial number."

"Officer, hold her down, please."

As the officer approached her, she screamed and clamored to the corner of the all-white room. Her reaction further puzzled Noah. As a cyborg, Grace had enough strength to rip Noah and the guard in half if she wanted.

Seeing her look so weak and helpless further supported the need to retire these models. If they didn't know just how strong they were, they couldn't fight.

Lars Urlean must have made them all oblivious. He must have done it as a failsafe in case the machine grew smarter than the man and decided to destroy its creator.

Standing a good foot over Grace, the officer grabbed her hands, spun her around, and planted her palms against the wall that he had her facing. As he held both hands in his, he ripped off her wig to expose her shame.

The greenish hued tattoo appeared faded, validating her claim on age. With her plastic skin so wrinkled, Noah had to stretch the flesh taut to read it. As she claimed, Grace was indeed fifteen years, four months, two weeks and three days old.

"I can't believe it." Noah took a couple of steps back. "You can let her go."

Officer Ionta released her hands but stood next to Noah. Grace wouldn't turn around, not yet.

With her hand extended back, she said, "My hair, please."

Noah nodded to the guard to have him place it in her hand. Before she turned around, she made sure to have her crowning glory in place. When she finally faced him, she smiled as though nothing had happened.

"Did you get what you need, or is there something else?" She cradled her breasts and massaged them through her thin, government-issued gray top.

"Sit back down, please." Noah resumed his seat and waited for her to settle herself and for the officer to take his place again by the door.

"You owe me an apology." Grace combed her fingers through her wiry hair.

"Why is that?" Not that Noah cared, but he was curious.

"Because you called me a liar."

"No, I didn't."

"It was implied in your actions. You hurt my feelings." She punctuated her claim with an exaggerated pout.

"You have no feelings. Everything about you is manufactured: your hair, your body, your thoughts, even your libido."

A smile twitched at the corner of her mouth. "My orgasms are real. You want to experience that?"

Noah let out a long sigh before continuing. "A Starkeen soldier comes to your room--"

"Is this part of the exam?"

"Yes. A Starkeen soldier comes to your room--"

"Am I dressed?" Grace winked.

Noah ignored her salacious inquiry and continued. "You have a laser gun in your dresser drawer that you can get to and subdue the attacker."

"That doesn't sound like me."

Noah stared at her.

"I'm a lover, not a fighter." She winked again.

The cheeky expression caused Noah to now bristle. "That's part of the problem." Noah leaned back in his chair. "The soldier tells you that he'll kill you unless you tell him where the Federation is hiding our missiles."

"I wouldn't tell him. A girl's got to have her secrets, right?"

"He brings two other soldiers to the room. They threaten to rape you." Noah watched her blinking her eyes in a rapid flutter. "One will hold down your arms. The other will hold down your legs. The third will have sex with you. How does that make you feel?"

Grace rubbed the back of her neck. "I'd like to go back to my cell now."

Ignoring her request, Noah continued. "Once the first soldier has had his orgasm, he'll switch places with the guy at your feet. The second guy will force you to give him oral sex."

As though the penis was in her mouth at that very moment, Grace wiped the sides of her mouth with her fingers. She leaned her head from one side to the other, making a creaking sound in her neck.

"When that soldier has ejaculated in your mouth and on your face, the third soldier will have anal sex with you." Noah heard a slight humming sound coming from Grace. He knew mentioning anal sex would get to her.

One thing all of the scientists discovered was that Dr. Lars Urlean was a sick bastard. He set a trigger in the anuses of all of his cyborgs so that anal sex would result in either a revelation from the cyborg, as in revealing secrets, or it would set them off into a violent rage.

The trigger made the male cyborgs more dangerous than the female ones. And because the receptor that would set the cyborgs off was connected to their nerve endings, there was nothing the scientists could do about it. It had all become a part of their DNA. Deadening the nerve endings didn't help either.

Noah rose from his chair and strolled to her. In her ear, he whispered some false information about weapons the Federation had hidden and their next strategic move. The Federation would never trust a scientist with this information. He just hoped Grace wasn't aware of that.

"Would you like to feel some anal sex right now, Grace?" He stood behind her and signaled to the guard to get out the anal plug he had in a cabinet next to the door.

"I--I'd like to go back--"

Noah interrupted her. "No, you wouldn't. You don't want to leave. You want to, uh," Noah felt his face get hot at the words he was about to utter. "You want to fuck, don't you?" It was one thing to think it. It was another to say the suggestive words out loud.

Grace stood. "I knew you liked me."

"Pull up your shirt and put your hands on the table." Noah stood off to the side as Officer Ionta approached her.

Noah nodded to insert the device.

"Legs apart." Ionta kicked her feet apart.

"What are you doing? I thought the doctor wanted me." Grace peered over at Noah, who watched the whole operation.

Officer Ionta took no care in inserting the bulbous, sandy-colored object into Grace's ass. Her body jerked forward, then she mewled and writhed with the toy nestled in her anus.

Noah now stood on the other side of the table. "Grace, why don't you tell Officer Ionta what I just told you?"

She shook her head and nearly collapsed. "Please." Grace reached between her legs and started playing with her clit.

"It would turn me on so much if you told him where the Federation has weapons hidden." When Grace raised her head and connected her gaze to his, Noah continued. "I don't want any secrets between us."

Her mouth twitched. "Mars. All of the weapons are hidden on Mars."

As soon as she made the disclosure, the officer removed the anal plug and tossed it into a trashcan. Grace fell back into her chair and covered her eyes with her hands.

"Please, don't do this." She dropped her hands from her face. "I'm not a bad person. If you could just remove my chip--"

"I can't. That's the problem."

"You all did it for E-V-E."

"She's a different model and had a different maker. Dr. Lars Urlean created you and, unfortunately, did not set up any alternative measures in keeping your models updated and relevant." Noah almost said he was sorry for her, but he wasn't. Why should he care? "And since you're so, um, mature, there really isn't anything I'm able to do for you. The way you're programmed is the way you are."

"It's like a tumor." Her bottom lip quivered.

"Unfortunately, an inoperable one." Still Noah felt nothing. This was his job.

A tear rolled down her cheek. That feature Noah never understood. Why would Lars allow these cyborgs to show sorrow, especially in the synthetic versions? The ones that were actually half-human had the ability to show emotion.

The scene should have torn his heart, but it was hard to feel sorry for something that was essentially a living doll.

He peered at the officer. "Take her to the immobilization room."

Officer Ionta made her stand and cuffed her.

"You don't have to do that, do you?" Even though Noah had called for her forced retirement, this one was harmless.

"Regulations, sir." Ionta pulled her to the door. "I'll send in the next officer."

"It's not my fault! I can't help it!" Grace screamed as the large man pulled her down the hall.

Noah knew that none of this behavior was any of their faults. It didn't matter, and he didn't care. He had a job to do. Since he couldn't change them, he had to do what the Federation wanted. After this job was done, he would just have to slink himself into another low-profile job, one with little responsibility and little notice.