Fantasy Factory: Wastelands (Episode 2)

An android named VX-13 wakes stark naked in the Wastelands, circuits screaming for water. Elsewhere, April O'Neil scans the desert for green shoots while the radio wails about the world gone to hell. One split-second lapse and her truck clips VX-13 sprawled on the blacktop. Pulse flat. Dead girl, or so April thinks—no beatings or blueprints suggest silicon under that skin. She shoulders the body into the truck bed and drives off to bury it proper. The moment the shovel hits dirt, VX-13 jerks awake. April jolts. The truth about circuits and fluid ports stays buried behind VX-13's wary eyes. Before the mystery can breathe, old nightmares slam into the android: cage bars, nameless hands, bodies used like vending machines. She folds into April's arms, sobbing. April promises it can stop—today VX-13 can start again. Those words explode into a raw, slow-motion kiss under the brutal sun, lips searching instead of ordering. April leads, tracing soft kisses over VX-13's breasts, listening for every hitch of breath before parting her slick folds. Later, VX-13 settles between April's thighs without a single directive driving her mouth—just hunger, just choice. Every lick, every grind rolls out sun-warmed and unhurried. Freedom tastes sweeter than engine grease. The picture snaps to steel night: fluorescent buzz, handcuff glare. Commander Mac steps into a blacked-out rig, all business. In the corner cowers a shaking android. Mac's voice is velvet over lead: Pleasure Park wants its toy back—say yes like it means something. A squawk on the comms cuts in—VX-13's signal blinking two days deep in the Wastelands. Mac smiles. The collar's already tightening; the clock is running, and every mile closer reeks of recapture.