I may have mentioned once or twice in the past that I like to depict robotic characters such as Reploids as flesh and blood for the sake of porn. I've seen some pretty heated debates as to whether or not it's better for such characters to be organic or synthetic while you're sucking their dicks, and the latter actually has some pretty good arguments! This IS 100 years in the future in an alternate universe (if it took place in this universe, the events of Megaman 8 would be occurring right now) where technology very well could emulate all the sensations of a living body. We are just awkwardly-shaped bags of chemicals after all, and it's not far off to imagine those chemicals can be replicated in a lab when we're talking science that has bestowed bipedal robots with all facets of human personality.

But to me, all that cock-squeezing, tongue-wrestling, and jizz-spitting, however realistic it may be, would just seem like little more than a video game when it's done with a robot. Granted, it'd be like the BEST video game ever, but knowing it's not the real thing would just dampen the experience. On the physical side, any audiophile will understand why there's a limit to how much those 0s and 1s which control a partner's pleasure levels will be able to recreate those brought on by chemical receptors (think digital vs. analogue). And on the emotional side, how much fun can it be knowing the bond and appreciation your partner experiences only occurs because someone else knowledgeable in personality and programming ordered him to? Something is more interesting when it's unpredictable. Even if such programming perfectly emulated the vagaries of human personality, just knowing that at any time its values can be and have been tweaked defeats some of its purpose. It's why I prefer not to know cheat codes for a video game, because just knowing there's a road going around a difficult challenge which can be, and probably has been, taken by anybody diminishes the trill of it.

So yes, the sensations of Reploid sex can be EXACTLY the same in every way, but at least to me, there will always be an invisible barrier created just from knowing that it's all a man-made experience. I'd want to KNOW it's real when I feel Slash Beast's thick coat of fur press into my back when he pounces on top of me, welcoming me into the warmth it provides for him as his weighty package slaps against my rear. I'd want to KNOW it's real when I drape Flame Stag's long, low-hanging cervine balls over my face and let his orbs rest against my cheeks while I suck on his abundant, furry scrotal skin. I'd want to KNOW it's real when I smell Wheel Gator's breath as he pushes his massive, fang-lined maw over my face and paints it in saliva with his slimy tongue in the sloppiest kiss a brutish alligator like him can give. I'd want to KNOW it's real when I lick the sweat out from in between Overdrive Ostrich's thick, scaly toes after he's taken a long, exerting sprint through the hot desert as my fingers sink into the textured, but yielding pads of his broad, meaty soles. I'd want to KNOW it's real when I stuff my face under Blizzard Wolffang's bushy tail and seal my lips around his rosy lupine pucker, kissing it just like I would his muzzle and probing it as deep as my tongue can reach while my hands massage his taut, furry butt.

And of course, I'd want to KNOW it's real when I pull Storm Eagle's massive cock down and undress his firm glans by gently slipping his foreskin over it with my lips until it tucks just behind the ridge, fully exposing that noble bird's wet, plump knob. I'd want to KNOW it's real when I taste Stormy's sweet pre oozing out onto my tongue when I squeeze his cockhead between it and the roof of my mouth, and feel the way his muscular, vein-ridged shaft warms my palm while I stroke it between my mouth and his downy, heavily-hanging ballsack. I'd want to KNOW that every pleasure-filled shock which causes his face to tighten and wince is just as real as the fingers curling behind his scrotum to stimulate his prostate by wiggling firmly against his perineum. And the hot, potent-tasting torrent of thick bird seed that spurts into the back of my throat when Storm Eagle struggles to keep an elated screech from escaping his beak as his great, feathery body is rocked by the throes of an powerful orgasm? I'd want to KNOW that is real too.

Wouldn't you?