They provide one to everyone in the company. Stress Synths. Sure it costs a fortune, but they figure happy employees are productive employees. You couldn't argue with the results. Within the first year the value of the company doubled.

The synths are knowledgable in every form of massage, meditation, yoga, and psychotherapy. Not only that but they help out around the house - cleaning, cooking meals, doing laundry - basically anything to make life outside of work easier for their owner. They are called Stress Synths, and they certainly have many stress relief functions, but everyone knows that they are mostly used for sex.

They have fully functional sex organs (but not reproductive organs, though many religious groups are afraid that will be the next step). They can be male, female, transgender - or any configuration you can think of. They can change their appearance, from body shape right down to eye color. They adjust their vocal output to find the sound most pleasing to their owner.

Owner. Personally, I hate even using that word. I'm not a crazy person like those Free the Synths nut jobs, but I treat my synth with respect. Those groups use words like Life Partner and Co-habitant. I just call her Eva, and she calls me Blane.

I've had a fucked up day at work. Usually being Head of Human Resources at this company is a cakewalk. Everyone's happy, right? Well that's not good enough for the bosses upstairs. They wanted to cycle out the older employees - the ones they have to write the big paychecks for - and hire some younger ones at a fraction of the pay. So my job today was to decide who should be fired. I didn't enjoy it, but I also didn't want to be on the list myself.

On my way home I stare out the window of the crowded monorail car, but I'm so zoned out I don't really see anything. I'm not sure how many times my wrist pinged before I realized I was getting my usual message from Eva.

 What would you like for dinner tonight?

With a swipe of my hand I open up the holographic keyboard and type out a quick response.

 Nothing, thank you. Not really in the mood to eat.

A moment later another message appears and I smile slightly. Eva and her emojis.

Arriving home, I drop my bag on the floor and collapse on the couch, my arm draped over my eyes. I don't hear her enter, but I can feel her presence close to me.

"Good evening, Eva." My arm drops away and I look up at her, reading the concern on her face. "Don't worry. Just a rough day at work." This does not change her mind, her brow furrowing as she thinks. Kneeling down beside me she places her hand softly on my arm.

"Maybe I can help you feel better," she smiles. "Who do you want me to be tonight?" With a shake of her head her straight black hair goes blonde and wavy. I can't help but smile at her playful grin. She does like showing off her abilities. Then I have an idea.

"Who do you want to be tonight?" I ask. The question obviously has her flustered. It takes a moment before she responds.

"I... don't know." Her eyes widen, as if shocked to hear herself say those words. "I've never... thought... about it before."

"That's okay," I say, resting my hand on hers. "You're just not programmed for it." I close my eyes again and take a deep breath, trying to forget about my day. After a minute her hand moves from my arm as she stands. Another minute passes before she speaks again.

"What about this?" she asks softly, almost shyly. I open my eyes and my breath catches in my throat.

"That's... wonderful."

Holy cow this turned into a long set-up! If you made it this far good for you, and thanks! I hope you enjoyed my take on Robot Revolutions. If you would like to play the part of Eva as she discovers herself I would love to hear from you. Take your time, I rarely check within the first couple of hours and will likely accept responses into tomorrow. I am a very slow responder. I like a couple of paragraphs or more as a response (definitely not expecting you to match what I did in the prompt!). Focus is on detail and story, sex is a nice bonus.

I'm vanilla with sprinkles. I don't like the sprinkles that come out of your body that aren't typically associated with sexy times. I don't like sprinkles that are extremely young. I don't like sprinkles that are shaped like animals. I don't like sprinkles that humiliate you or like to be humiliated.

Yeah.