Description: A Pop Star
And a nation of zombies. It turns out the zombie apocalypse was caused by the Robot Apocalypse, and a high-tech mountain stronghold of besieged survivors fights a losing war against a planet-spanning, robotic intelligence with a ruthless agenda leaving no room for human civilization.
Zombie-hunters overwhelmed by oceans of the Living Dead are driven to a desperate gamble to turn the tide: To weaponize a series of robot humanoids…
Robots Built For Sexual Companionship
A new kind of A.I. conscripted to fight a war they were never built for – not only against the robotic masterminds of a zombie plague, but also against a prejudiced humanity with reason to fear all intelligent robots.
Apocalypse Doll is a full length, 100,000 word epic. The illicit love-child of Terminator and Resident Evil raised by ‘Saturn’s Children’, exploring territory Asimov never dared, just short of ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’. Apocalypse Doll is action, science-fiction, erotica, in a zombie-shredded package.
Built for Loyalty,
Programmed for Pleasure,
Forced to Fight!
Excerpt: But something had found her: The turrets once again. She dodged three shots in a row that would have ventilated her pneumatic vacuoles just a minute earlier. She had to keep it up. If she exerted herself, she’d burn power faster, avoid thermal runaway that much longer. As long as her body held up. But the turrets were closing in, pinning her down. Soon there’d be nowhere to run. But still there were the zombies, always the zombies. Her explosive stunt had certainly eliminated…some of them. But there were always more.
One of them charged her, not caring about the friendly fire that blew apart his shoulder even as he reached for Marsha.
“Want me that bad?” He was going to get his wish, but not in the way the festering creature hoped. Marsha leaped for the zombie even as it opened its arms wide to entrap her. She wrapped her legs around the zombie’s shriveled hips, its blackened jaws opened wide…wider still – to feast. To devour…
The barrel of Marsha’s remaining uzi.
Shooting out the back of the zombie’s head, she blasted a turret in its center mass, with a shower of plasmonic sparks. She twisted her hips to adjust her dubious partner into the path of a vicious hail of pulse-fire. Where a human would have died instantly, the animate corpse managed a valiant effort to remain mobile even with a hole in the back of its throat. Chicken with its head cut off; its body knew what to do. And its jaws knew to keep biting, keep chewing, heedless of the fact that all it had in its mouth was the cold steel of a submachine gun.
>> Y0U W1LL START VENT1NG W1TH FLAME W1TH1N 3.28 M1NUTES, >>
threatened the imprisoned Military A.I.
>> AND Y0U CAN SAVE ME >> Marsha queried.
>> I AM Y0UR 0NLY CHANCE. >> The trapped intelligence insisted. Marsha’s Processors blazed with the need to find an alternative! She might not last that long. Another zombie, that might have been female didn’t want to give her that much time. But as the rotting hands reached for her, Marsha grabbed the new zombie instead, slinging her legs over the newcomer’s shoulder, holding the gnashing jaws in place between her calves in a spectacular pole-dancing maneuver made possible by her ultra-flexible actuators. The lithesome Fembot dropped into a sort of hanging crab-walk and thrust her arms between the legs of her latest captor, firing low at the kneecaps of several neighboring zombies….
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