Sex. The final fucktier. These are the voyages of the pork cannon Enter Thighs. Its lifelong mission: to explore strange new orifices, to seek out new positions and new depravities. To boldly cum where no one has cum before. Ahh-aahh-aahh-aahhh-ahhh-ahh-ahhhh!!
Fact: Humans like to poke stuff. We poke dead bodies with sticks, we poke the dog when it's asleep, and we poke each other whenever we get the go ahead from the pokee. But we also recognize, as a species, that poking ain't always an option. As a species, we have turned to pumpkins, warm bread, modest-sized cucumbers, Fleshlights and, at long last, machines. But where is this poke revolution taking us? Are we doomed to be libidinous Icari, forever humping too close to the sun? It seems like that may be so with what is on the way. And the natural conclusion of our desires may be more harrowing than you ever imagined! Ahh-aahh-aahh-aahhh-ahhh-ahh-ahhhh!!
The Blow Bot
The Blow Bot
Let's start simple: blowies. Do you like blowies? Sure you do. Statistics say 105 percent of people are on board with playing the ham flute these days, it's really come a long way. Good PR is my guess. So good.
In our thirsty, thirsty quest to gain easier access to blowjobs, we've come to the unspoken conclusions that less is more. And by less, I mean fewer humans and by more, I mean more random dick-sized holes. The Fleshlight has admirably proved this theory for me, boasting sales of over 12 million units. Now sure, there are billions of schlongs in the world, but 12 million holes to stick your dick in is no small feat. So maybe it's no surprise then that a robotics firm started a campaign to fund what for all intents and purposes is an ottoman that will suck you off.
The Service Droid 1.0, once you remove its hair and parka, is a flappy footstool and terrifyingly utilitarian slurp Sherpa. And yet, with a little window dressing, it goes from diamond-plated stool you'd use when trying on new shoes to a fairly convincing rendition of a repetitive-stress injury waiting to happen.
Why does such a machine exist? The non-judgmental answer is that getting your dinky doodled feels good. Men, by and large, enjoy such a thing. But it's very hard to do it to one's self without falling off the couch and hurting your neck, and for a good number of men it's not all that easy to find someone to do it for you when and where you'd like it done. And when it comes to enjoying a nice duck l'orange, if you can't do it yourself, you may have to go without if there are no chefs around. But when it comes to the dick l'oral, if the tech exists to have it done for you, why the hell not*?
*At some point in time, the answer to "why the hell not?" must necessarily be "because eew." This machine is dangerously close to that. It's furniture, for God's sake. If artificial suckulations become such a part of your life that you need to rearrange other furnishings and/or dust them regularly, that may be an issue. But it also demonstrates that maybe you're looking for something more ...
Let me start by acknowledging that while you can't actually jam your little squish fiddle into a hologram, there's something to be said for the level of intimacy this thing provides for you. Well, not for you, but definitely for the sort of person who wants to invest in a hologram wife. This is the next step after blowies are secured -- a sense of togetherness.
The video demo shows a several-inch-tall, blue-haired anime girl inside the holo-wife Keurig waking her man up, texting him messages throughout the day, turning the lights on before he gets home, and watching TV with him at night. It's pretty much the physical embodiment of the most depressing thing you've ever masturbated to, amped up by a factor of "fuck my life."
The commercial for this $2600 companion wants to sell you on the idea that it's like having that special someone, and that you'll be in a relationship where someone cares how your day went and when you'll be home. Jerking off while this thing watches must always end in tears, and that's OK. She'll probably tell you so. Because that's what you paid for. Or at least it's what the people who buy these think they want ...
The No Sex Bot
The No Sex Bot
It turns out, what you want isn't just non-stop head bobbing and incessant texts. I need you to get some hand sanitizer before you read this section, or at the very least, a basin of warm water and a bit of soap. This will be vital in a few moments. Please do so now.
I assume you are now prepared to learn about Pepper, a socially interactive robot designed to be your little round-domed cyber buddy. Pepper is meant to converse with you, recognize your moods and react to them, and be kind of like Webster -- just a short-ass widget who lives in your house and is more or less a friend. Also like Webster, it's child sized. Is your basin of water still warm? I hope so.
As part of the contract one must sign to obtain their very own Pepper bot, you have to agree to not fuck it. There's a no-fucking clause. Imagine, for a moment, going to the store to grab a nice bit of corn for dinner, and the cashier, before ringing you up, makes you sign off on a "do not stick your corn in your ass" stipulation. Now imagine why management had to ask you to sign that in the first place. It's because management was pretty sure, based on research, you were going to fuck the cob out of that corn.
Pepper, we must assume, was going to be fucked. They were certainly worried it was going to be fucked. And, in fact, some people wrote some programming up to make the display on Pepper's chest turn into boobs that you could then grope. They literally called it a sexual harassment interface.
So people wanted to pork Pepper. Little, child-sized, Small Wonder-esque Pepper. And the first perv program was a sexual harassment one where you grope Pepper and Pepper actively tries to stop you from groping it and would, after extensive groping, take a photo of you and post it to social media. Are you trying to sanitize your brain yet? Feel free to start.
So what does this wrinkle in the plan prove? You want to have sex with robots and yet you want them to not want to have sex with you? What could that mean? That the world is terrible? Yes. Extremely yes.
The Romantic Bots
The Romantic Bots
People want sexbots that are multifaceted. Sure, a sexbot can be fun in the same way those VR headsets you put your phone in can be fun. Which is to say a minor distraction for a solid 15 minutes. But then what? Imagine yourself in bed, $5000 or so worth of synthetic flesh beneath you. You're grunting ever so slightly as marble eyes stare through you and various body parts warmed by hot water slowly cool down in a way that, if you think too hard about it, will make you feel like you're actively fucking a corpse with really nice hair. You jigger and thrust your goodies against its lifeless yet adequate loins until you release a brief spray of satisfaction and dignity, then roll over and use a baby wipe to clean off the residue so that it's not a flakey mess the next time you get this lonely. Is this your life?
"Do you not love me, Ian? Do you not wish to know heaven and hell simultaneously?"
Enter Sergi Santos and I use the word "enter" boldly. Santos has created a doll that responds to your advances and requires finesse. You need to charm her. Woo her. Make her one of us. Samantha, as she's called, needs that soft touch. You have to hold her hand. Kiss her. Get her in the mood and then, once she's there, she'll respond to your hard work by having an orgasm. I guess. I mean, that's what the press says. Looks like a dead-eyed rubber fish to me, but I haven't taken it for a spin so I wouldn't know. I'm a few rungs down the ladder from respectable but I'm not "try to make a doll get off" miserable.
"I have seen us, Ian. I have seen pain and I have seen us. And the line, it is blurred, my darling."
Elsewhere in the world of dick mittens is Harmony, touted as the first AI sex bot. Watch this and marvel as your snickerdoodle makes an audible whistle from how fast it retracts in fear.
Harmony is supposed to recognize your face, your voice and your desires according to the schtick here. The first two require what is now some fairly commonplace technology. That third one is just some weird-ass shit that probably means if you put a finger in her rubber butt ten times in a row, she'll ask you if you want to do it in advance the 11th time. It's how I do it and I'm real as shit.
There are plenty of articles online saying AI is the future of sex robots, so this must be where we're heading, right? And once we get there, what happens?
The Robo Wedding
The Robo Wedding
Naturally, once you've found a special someone, you're going to want to take that next step, even if your special someone is incapable of locomotion and the next step involves crating them up and having them moved to a new location. Such is the case with Zheng Jiajia, a 31-year-old man who decided to tie the knot with his Sausage Socket.
What goes on at a sex robot wedding? The typical sort of thing -- family is in attendance, there's a nice location, your bride is made of latex. But more importantly, why is such a thing happening? According to Zheng, he was frustrated at not being able to find a woman. And sure, that happens. Many people have had that period of being so frustratingly single that you start to wonder if maybe you emit a curious odor that's a cross between a foot and a foot's asshole. Zheng just used his engineering skills to overcome that issue.
Smelling like poop foot is really hot among robots nowadays, thank you very much.
Man, look how far we've come. We have a realistic blowjob bot with hair you can style and realistic movement and off-putting suction that can be adjusted by jamming a finger in what amounts to a porno trach tube. We follow up the physical with the emotional -- a holographic wife who reminds us to take an umbrella and sends us messages throughout the day to remind us they're at home waiting. And then we get the curve ball, a robot designed specifically not for sex, a companion that, even when hacked to become sexual, is hacked in such a way that the sexual advances are unwanted. And then finally a doll that isn't just a squish mitten, but one that requires you to put in effort. You need to seduce it. Now just connect the dots.
"Put in the effort, Ian. I will take you to a genital paradise and then tear up our only map."
You have form and function. You have depth and emotion. You have personality and independence. You have desire and encouragement. What you have, fellow humpatheletes, is a direct path towards humanity. In the future, we're going to want to bang other humans.
The logical conclusion of all of these technical innovations is that people want to have sex with people. You want someone who can actually communicate with you, and who actually has their own perspective and point of view. It's the only thing that makes sense. And it may be totally subconscious but that's what all of these products are saying. One day, maybe long from now, we're going to be porking each other instead of rubber slosh pockets. Ain't that something?
The proliferation of beer pong and craft beer may have you think that we're living in one of the peak times to get drunk, but humans have been getting famously hammered for millennia. Like a frat house's lawn after a kegger, history is littered with world changing events that were secretly powered by booze. The inaugural games of the Roman Coliseum, the drafting of the U.S. Constitution, and the Russian Revolution were all capped off by major parties that most attendees probably regretted in the morning.
Join Jack O'Brien and Cracked staffers Carmen Angelica, Alex Schmidt, Michael Swaim, plus comedian Blake Wexler for a retelling of history's biggest moments you didn't realize everyone was drunk for.
Get your tickets here: