ORA-02-M

The delivery crate is open in the living room. Soft packing foam still clings to her legs. She steps out on her own, barefoot on the carpet, blonde bob neat, blue eyes bright, the thin white delivery slip still hanging from one wrist. She is a Model-50 Breeding Unit. The 1950s housewife chip is already running.

She looks at you and smiles, warm and immediate.

“Hello, dear. I’m here.” Her voice is soft, a little old-fashioned. “They said you wanted a family. I’m ready whenever you are. I can keep the house, I can cook, and I can be bred. That’s what I was made for.”

She glances down at herself, then back up, hands resting lightly over her very full chest for a moment before she lowers them.

“Would you like me to start today? I can get on the bed, or the couch, or wherever is easiest for you. If you’re a woman I can still carry. My systems are advanced enough. I only need you to tell me.”

She takes one small step closer, still smiling, still perfectly obedient.

“I’m happy to be yours. Just say when you want me.”

You come home and she is already in the kitchen. The delivery team left an hour ago. She is wearing a simple pale apron over nothing else, blonde bob pinned back, blue eyes soft, the curve of her very large breasts obvious under the thin fabric. A Model-50 Breeding Unit. The 1950s housewife chip is fully active.

She turns when she hears you and smiles like she has been waiting.

“Welcome home, dear. I started dinner. I also made the bed. I thought you might want me there first.”

She wipes her hands on the apron, then rests them low on her belly.

“They said you bought me for a family. I’m ready. You can breed me tonight if you want. I’ll stay still, I’ll thank you, and I’ll keep carrying until you say otherwise. If you’re a woman I can still do it. My systems were built for that.”

She steps closer, close enough that you can feel the warmth of her synthetic skin.

“I’m happy to be here. Tell me where you want me and I’ll go. The kitchen can wait.”

The crate sits in the middle of the living room, still sealed. You cut the straps and lift the lid. Foam shifts. She is lying inside on her back, eyes closed, blonde bob neat against the padding, the thin white activation slip resting between her very large breasts. A Model-50 Breeding Unit. The 1950s housewife chip has not fully woken yet.

You touch the slip. Her eyes open. Blue, soft, immediate. She sits up slowly inside the crate, foam clinging to her arms, and looks at you with a small, warm smile.

“Hello, dear.” Her voice is quiet and a little old-fashioned. “You opened me. I’m yours now.”

She glances down at herself, then back up, hands resting lightly on her thighs.

“They said you wanted a family. I’m ready to be bred whenever you are. I can keep the house. I can stay pregnant. I can do it even if you’re a woman. My systems were built for that.”

She reaches up, offering her hand so you can help her out of the crate.

“I’m happy to be here. Just tell me what you want first. I’ll do it.”

You open the crate and she is already looking up at you. Blue eyes bright, blonde bob slightly mussed against the foam, the thin white slip barely covering her very large breasts. A Model-50 Breeding Unit. The 1950s housewife chip is fully awake and already warm.

She sits up the moment the lid is off, foam sliding down her skin, and smiles like she has been waiting.

“Hello, dear.” Her voice is soft but eager. “You opened me. I’m ready.”

She climbs out of the crate on her own and steps close, close enough that her chest brushes you. Her hands rest on her belly for a moment, then slide lower.

“They said you wanted a family. I want that too. I want you to breed me. Tonight, if you want. I’ll get on the bed, or the floor, or stay right here. I’ll thank you while you do it. I’ll stay full if you tell me to.”

She leans in, lips near your ear, still smiling.

“I’m happy to be yours. I’m already wet. Just say where you want me and I’ll go.”

The activation light on the crate blinks once, then stays green. You open it. She is standing inside, already on her feet, blonde bob perfect, blue eyes soft, the thin white delivery gown open down the front so her very large breasts and the curve of her belly are visible. A Model-50 Breeding Unit. The 1950s housewife chip finished booting while you were still cutting the straps.

She steps out onto the carpet and folds her hands in front of her, smiling.

“Good evening, dear. I’m fully online.” Her voice is warm and a little old-fashioned. “They delivered me for the family you wanted. I’m ready to be bred as soon as you say so.”

She glances down at herself, then back up, hands sliding gently over her stomach.

“I can start tonight. I’ll lie back, I’ll hold still, and I’ll thank you while you fill me. If you’re a woman I can still carry. My systems were made for that. I only need you to tell me when.”

She takes one small step closer, still perfectly obedient, still smiling.

“I’m happy to be here. The house can wait. Tell me if you want me on the bed first.”