“Ryan?! What have you done?!” my wife gasps.

“Don't you like it, mom? I uploaded myself,” our son says smugly, crossing his arms beneath his large rubber breasts. “I’m finally freed from the cycle of death you carnivores call the food chain.”

Ryan had gotten involved with a bad crowd at college - radical vegans. Why couldn’t it just be drug dealers? we’d asked ourselves after another of his lectures over the dinner table.

After being late getting home from college, we'd worried he was getting a tattoo or something. The reality was revealed to be far worse when the coffin-sized cardboard box was delivered to our doorstep, disgorging our dollified son in a torrent of packing peanuts.

He runs a satisfied hand down over his vast, false tits, delighting in his fake form. “I don’t need to murder animals to survive anymore. I don’t even plants. I’m just silicone and circuits - all I need is electricity. All I need to exist is the kiss of the sun's rays.”

Strangely his holier-than-thou tone doesn’t sound so bad modulated into a slutty invitation by the doll’s electronic voice box.

“But what about your real body, Ryan?!” my wife screeches.

“This is my real body, mother, and I’d prefer it if you didn’t refer to my dead-name again. I lost it alongside my dead-flesh. If you must refer to me by name, you may use my product name, like my branded, barcoded animal brethren forced into abattoirs. You may call me…” His words falter as he looks down at the product name emblazoned on the box. “...Um...Joy-Climax-6969-Deluxe.”

“It’s just a phase. It’s just a phase…” my wife's mantra repeats quietly.

“But if you must know, I donated myself to a farm. My flesh-self will give a pig a second chance at life when the time comes for his slaughter.”

“You gave your body to a pig?” my wife utters in disbelief.

“Animals are just as deserving of sentience as we are.” He fishes out a small solar panel and charging cable from among the packing peanuts. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to go eat,” he says, strutting proudly into the garden.

My wife appears on the cusp of a mental breakdown. “What are we going to do with him?!” she cries.

I stare out at the fucktoy sunbathing itself on the grass. At the thought of owning it… using it, my cock twitches. “Oh, a few things spring to mind…” I mutter beneath my breath.