Delivering The First Sexbot To The White House.

Even as a prototype, she's still eerily human in an Annie Lennox, sisters-doing-it-for-themselves kind of way.

“Get up, uh, get on up, like a sex machine, get on up.” James Brown

“This is amazing,” President Trump was saying as I unwrapped Melania2, the first of her kind, and possibly the only functioning sexbot capable of picking up paper clips. The president walked around her, touching her fibre9 hair and epidermal10 skin. Since she was still a proto-bot, we hadn’t taught her to flinch. Remarkably, she did, anyway. She even threw up in her mouth.

“You see that, Pence?” the president said to his vice president.

“I saw it, Mr. President,” Pence replied. “Very life-like, very life-like.”

He was following Trump around the room, arms crossed, one white knuckle stuck in his mouth. Other members of staff were doing the same thing. White knuckles were everywhere. The First Lady decided to throw up in her mouth, too. Neither Melania had smiled yet. The likeness was remarkable.

We’d programmed Melania2 to organize items, and she set about lining up six half-eaten drumsticks in a row.

“You know what this means, Pence?” President Trump was saying. “We can fill the whole White House with these things. No more law suits over stupid sexual improprieties. And no back talk. Why didn’t Weinstein think of this?”

Harvey Weinstein, co-founder of Miramax, and now working at KFC, had been by earlier, delivering the president’s favorite lunch. The remains of six Value Meals sat on Trump’s desk. We’d programmed Melania2 to organize items, and she set about lining up six half-eaten drumsticks in a row.

While her movements were mechanical, and she was devoid of typical facial expressions, she still looked more lifelike than Kellyanne Conway. The Counselor to the President was taking pictures on her phone.

“Can she do cartwheels?” she asked. My supervisor had warned me about Kellyanne. She could be difficult. Fortunately, Melania2 had been programmed to do cartwheels, which she did while Trump finished his sixth Pepsi of the day. She landed on Kellyanne’s lap, causing the counselor to squeal like a Blue Ribbon sow.

Secretary of Defense, “Mad Dog” Mathis, quickly pulled out two pearl-handled automatics. Both barrels were aimed at Melania2’s head, although, given Mathis’s age and eyesight, they could have been aimed at Kellyanne.

He gave Melania2 a pat on the rear which made her throw up in her mouth again.

Everyone hit the floor, except Trump, who tossed his Pepsi can on the rug. Melanie2 quickly got up and put it in the wastepaper basket. She then wiped Trump’s mouth with a KFC napkin.

“Put your guns away, Mathis,” Trump said. “I haven’t even passed this thing by the Ways and Means Committee yet.” He gave Melania2 a pat on the rear which made her throw up in her mouth again. “So, okay,” he said to me, “she can do cartwheels and arrange my chicken. What’s she going to do about my sex life? Can’t have Melania doing everything, can I?”

“Of course, Mr. President,” I said. “As you know, Melania2 is still in the prototype stage. We’re working currently to approximate sexual stimulation, eye flutter, heavy breathing and pelvic thrust— ”

“You’re telling me she can do cartwheels,” President Trump said, “but she can’t even give me a suggestive wink? I’m the president, for cryin’ out loud. When I say I want something done yesterday, that’s what I expect.”

“I understand, Mr. President,” I replied. “We had hoped to have her winking by today, but she seems to only respond to women.”

“She’s taking all my makeup off,” Kellyanne squealed.

Melania2 quickly cartwheeled over to Kellyanne’s lap again and started winking like an unmasked beekeeper. “Hey, I don’t swing that way,” Kellyanne screamed, while Melania2 pulled out a WetWipe. “What’s she doing?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” I said. “Melania2 wasn’t programmed to select one gender over another. Our technicians think this is some form of sympathetic automation.”

“She’s taking all my makeup off,” Kellyanne squealed.

This caused both Pence and Mathis to throw up in their mouths.

“It seems sex robots are more adept at pleasuring women than men,” I explained. “We actually had one that suddenly broke into Annie Lennox’s ‘Sisters are doin’ it for themselves.’”

“I don’t like the sound of that at all,” Trump said. “Annie Lennox hates my guts. She’s a bit of a butch, too. Are you telling me this is a lesbo robot?”

“No, Mr. President,” I said. “Sexbots are supposed to allow each member of a couple to pursue their kinks. Somehow Melania2 identifies with women over men. Again, we think it’s sympathetic automation, not preference.”

“Why isn’t she winking at my wife?” Trump asked.

“Possibly she thinks she’s another sexbot,” I said. “The similarities are certainly there, Mr. President.”

“Tell him no shooting missiles over our vacation hotspots. This is so flagrant, it isn’t funny.”

“You think my wife might be an older model?”

“Hard to say,” I said. “She could be one of the experimental X9385s.”

“Mr. President,” Pence said. “We’ve just heard North Korea is planning another nuclear test. They want to shoot a missle right over Hawaii.”

“Hey, I like Hawaii,” Trump said. “What are we gonna do about this, Mathis? You gotta set that Kim Jong-un straight. Tell him no shooting missiles over our vacation hotspots. This is so flagrant, it isn’t funny.”

“I’ll give him a severe talking to, Mr. President,” Mathis replied.

“Well, get right on it. I’m up to my chubby neck in problems here. My sexbot prefers women, my counselor has no makeup on, and my wife might be an old robot. Hey, what if we send a sexbot to Kim Jong-un? Let her do cartwheels all over his office. Show him what American know-how can do.”

“We could wire it with a bomb,” Mathis suggested.

“Given the state of women’s rights in North Korea, it’s quite possible a sexbot would beat the crap out of him, anyway.”

“I don’t want to blow the little asshole up,” President Trump said. “They’ll just replace him with another asshole. Won’t it be enough just taking all his makeup off? Look how pissed Kellyanne is right now.”

“Mr. President,” I said. “Given the state of women’s rights in North Korea, it’s quite possible a sexbot would beat the crap out of him, anyway.”

“Well, then, ship this one over to him right away, Mathis. We can’t have nuclear bombs flying over our heads.”

“I’ll take care of it, Mr. President.”

Secretary of Defense, Mathis, proceeded to pick up Melania and put her under his arm.

“For cryin’ out loud, Mathis,” Trump said. “That’s my wife.”

“Sorry, Mr. President. The resemblance is uncanny.”

“And tell that little craphound, we’re playing hardball here, Mathis. If he wants to go around shooting nuclear missiles, we’ll take every bit of makeup off that little bastard’s face. Give him some of this chicken, too. Not the breasts, Mathis. I’m not trying to sweetheart the little prick.”

“Well, then, send Pena Nieto a sexbot, too. Let’s see how he likes Annie Lennox songs.”

“Anything else, Mr. President?” Mathis said.

“Bill him for it. Hell, if I’m making the Mexicans pay for the wall, I might as well charge Kim Jon-un for a sexbot.”

“Mexico won’t pay for the wall, Mr. President,” Vice President Pence said.

“Well, then, send Pena Nieto a sexbot, too. Let’s see how he likes Annie Lennox songs.”

“We’ll get right on it, Mr. President,” Pence said.

“Tell him he can shove NAFTA up his behind as well.”

“Will do.”

“How long before one of these sexbots starts liking men?” he asked me.

“Hard to say, Mr. President,” I said. “We’re trying to replace sympathetic automation with some form of male attraction. So far, the sexbots keep complaining about female subjugation and unequal pay.”

“Boy, give a sexbot an inch, huh?”

“We’ll sort it out, Mr. President.”

“You know me, I want it yesterday.”

Vice President Pence escorted us out while Kellyanne Conway proceeded to consult President Trump on his next news conference. Her skin without makeup reminded me of our first experimental epidermal1. As the door closed, we could hear Trump throw up in his mouth.

Robert Cormack is a novelist, humorist and blogger. His first novel “You Can Lead a Horse to Water (But You Can’t Make It Scuba Dive)” is available online and at most major bookstores. Check out Yucca Publishing or Skyhorse Pressfor details.

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