Date: Sat, 29 Jun 2002 16:30:06 +0000 From: Java Biscuit Subject: Free to Good Home, chapter four This is a futuristic fantasy involving inter generational male/male graphic sex and it's not intended for reading by minors. If you are underage, or this type of material is illegal where you live, please stop now, and go read something else! Feedback, always appreciated, to: javabiscuit@hotmail.com Free to Good Home ~ chapter four by Biscuit Blessed be my creator. Blessed be my human companion. I am blessed to serve Toby. Toby's diet needed attention. A survey of our foodpack supply revealed that he had a poor subscription plan with an inferior supplier, Fresh Farmco -- it's rating was the lowest in my reference files. There wasn't a single piece of fresh produce in our kitchen. Had I really allowed him to sink so low? I suspended the unpleasant conjecture. There were many signs of our unfortunate circumstances. His wardrobe was as substandard as his food supply. For how long had my human worn nothing but poorly tailored one-piece suits that resembled the uniforms of factorybots? Sadly, my own clothes were gone. Unless I'd been kept entirely indoors, naked, it appeared Toby had attempted to erase all reminders of me. I quickly rejected the first possibility but didn't discard it completely. It had potential masturbatory value. That he'd gotten rid of my things was sad but most likely. I didn't dwell on the sadness. Toby loved me. I strongly believed that he and I both had been resurrected into new life by our crisis. I glanced at him sleeping peacefully in our bed and my distress was instantly soothed. He had been asleep through the afternoon. It was 4:58 PM. Though he was covered by his blanket I could see the long lean shapes of his body and the rise of fabric over his genitals. Looking at him was the antidote to all pain, reassuring, arousing. Human sleep is vital, a daily remedial trance. It was pleasing to me for him to sleep, knowing it was needed, but like a lovely song in a minor key, it carried the flavor of sorrow. Not just for me, for any bot. Human sleep robs us of time with our beloved companions and is a constant reminder of the unalterable reality of their aging and death. I suppressed further indulgence in melancholy. My human was young and enjoying much needed rest. I'd taken what amounted to little more than a cleaning rag from his wardrobe to wear while I cooked; an old shirt that hung on me loosely to my thighs. The fiber was worn thin as tissue. Toby was certain to be hungry when he woke up, having eaten nothing all day. There was no food to actually cook, however. I selected two packets of Noodo's. There was at least a trace of protein and spinach powder in the noodle broth. Preparation required nothing more than placing the packets in our small zapper. The food would steam almost instantly. No need for protective clothing, there would be no vegetable bits sent flying or sauces to drip. It was certain his diet needed improvement but I acknowledged my own yearning to cook for him, for the satisfaction of feeding him meals I prepared especially for him. I intended to take off the now unnecessary shirt but I didn't. I was enjoying the unexpected way it caressed my skin. I gazed at my beloved human and lifted the portion of cloth from the shirt's armpit to my nose. Faint traces of his scent lingered in the fabric, a scent now deeply imprinted in me. My elixir sacs swelled as I inhaled. My anus moistened and my cock began to fill. I too would benefit from food. Personal service bots need food to produce a wide variety of body fluids. Boybots and manbots require even more than others because of the large amount of ejaculate we expel. For me the inferior food supply was no problem. My body could break down any organic matter, a handful of leaves, a piece of wood. But for Toby ... something must be done soon. His smell was healthy, in spite of his poor diet, but for how long? I saw his blanket lifting over an erection. He was getting hard in his sleep and mine jumped with longing for him. Masturbate? I was tempted to but conflicted. Should I zap the Noodo and let the aroma wake him up so we could have sex? If I woke him with the aroma of food it would be wrong not to feed him at once. Unwisely, I made no decision. I wanted to masturbate, but I wanted Toby. It was forbidden to wake him for my own pleasure and yet he seemed close to waking. I avoided touching myself, certain he'd open his eyes any moment, but I recklessly allowed myself to speculate about the slim possibility that he'd kept me perpetually naked. My memory banks burgeoned with erotic examples of boybots subjected to continual sexual use. I envisioned my own Toby demanding that I always be ready and available for his eyes, his hands, his cock and whatever sexual accessories he chose to use. Possible. There existed the evidence of him fucking me with an unusual wooden dildo that had left fiber inside me. Further evidence -- his guilty concern that he'd injured me; so human the battle between impulse and remorse! The essence of human need for bot. I existed, I was created to satisfy him in ways that no human companion could. I was the one who could help him explore the fullness of his self expression. Blessed creator, let me fulfill every need, let me enrich to its ultimate reach his fragile, precious existence! I throbbed with love and purpose, my circuits ablaze with the fire of revelation. Mysterious and potent the alliance of human and bot! My cock was leaking heavily and elixir was seeping from my hole into the crevice of my ass. Toby! I rubbed my lips on the cloth I'd been sniffing, kissing it, veering dangerously close to unsafe levels of arousal. If I did not suppress this rapture or give way to masturbating, semi trance would take me. At the crucial fork of decision making I saw my beloved's eyes open and the joy was so intense that I entered the protective state of trance without preparation and collapsed. I heard my head thump, absorbing the impact of my fall and the dullish sensation of it. From within the shield of suppressed emotion I heard Toby cry out and the sound of his naked feet on the faux wool carpet. By the time he reached me I was emerging. "Tiger!" He brimmed with concern, his eyes were wet and he lifted my head, anxiously feeling my scalp and stroking my hair. Intense pleasure! His eyes swept over me and I saw him notice and respond to my erect penis. It had lifted the thin cloth and created an irregular wet spot. "Are you all right?" he asked me and I heard the war of emotion in his voice between lust and concern. "Yes," I said. "It's my own fault." His beauty was dizzying; skin showing creases from folds in the bed sheets, reddened in places. His erection, which had subsided with alarm, was swelling and rising to its majestic 7.2 inches in a tight arc up his stomach. He pulsed with life. I had dared earlier to compare my own face to his. It thrilled me again to note the similarities that existed between Toby and my protohuman, the one whose image I was made in. A family resemblance! Toby's blue green eyes roamed over my body, drawn again and again to my rigid cock. I lifted the shirt, spreading my legs slightly to encourage him to examine me. My sac had lifted, it was swollen tight. Blessed creator, let him always look at me with fire in his eyes. He was still on his knees beside me, a hand under my head. His other hand was on his thigh, frozen there tensely as his eyes devoured me. He had pleasured me with his mouth before he slept. I looked at his lips, remembering. My references indicated that fewer than thirty percent of boybots are blessed with a human who likes to perform fellatio on them. Eighty percent of those owned specialized models. Toby was rare among owners. It is true that I would love any human who chose me. Like a human mother, I speculated, who loves the child of her womb regardless of its attributes. I may be forgiven, as she would, for favoring my child above all others and finding in him every remarkable, lovable trait. "Well," he said, adorably awkward as he tore his eyes from my cock, glanced at his own and then looked at my face. "I think I was dreaming of you." Not likely that this shy young man had kept me as a sexual prisoner. Unless his shyness evaporated when he adopted the role of master. Role play can bring about almost miraculous transformation in humans. I suspended speculation in favor paying attention to the moment's possibilities, my hand gliding up his slim muscular thigh as I sat up. What would please him most? "What were you dreaming?" I asked him, wondering if it would provide a clue. I took off the soft shirt so I would be as naked as he was and was excited to see him hungry for the sight of my chest. Toby showed no sign of choosing how he wanted to have sex, but having it was rapidly becoming a necessity. Food would have to wait, but not long, judging from the rumbling sound I heard from his stomach. A quick fuck in the kitchen would be ideal. But where? The counter top was too high. Then I considered the stool. If I stood on the lowest rung of its laddered base, my anus would be perfectly positioned for him to enter. But would it give me sufficient support? Doubtful. "I'm not sure what I dreamt, I just know you were there," he said. In all probability this was untrue. His averted gaze and the catch in his voice indicated that he did recall the dream but didn't want to reveal it. Oh Toby. Had he dreamt of the wooden dildo? Impossible to force him to tell me. "Come with me," I told him, up on my feet and heading out of the kitchen. If only I knew more! I had no choice but to take charge of him in a semi blind fashion. "I need you to fuck me, quickly," I said. "And then we'll have dinner." I'd shocked him, but only slightly. He followed me. He showed signs of anxiety but stronger signs of arousal; his glans exposed and shiny, his face and chest lightly speckled with a sexual flush. Blessed. I was so blessed to serve him. Our home was sadly lacking in furniture designed for fucking. It would have to be taken care of, even if I had to construct it myself. It was vital to have a place where I could quickly and simply assume the correct position for intercourse. The bed would have to serve. With a pillow under my knees to lift me, I went down on my hands and presented my buttocks, well lubed and yearning for penetration. No Toby. I looked back over my shoulder and saw him standing by the bed, an unaccountable sadness in his eyes in spite of his intense physical need. "Toby? What's wrong?" "You know you don't have to do this," he said. "I'm not ... I mean you're more important to me than just for this." Blessed creator, preserve me! One point two seconds of semi trance gave me control of my emotions and control of my urge to throw him down and impale myself on his cock. "Toby," I said. "Beloved. I want you to fuck me. Now, please, I'm begging you." That was the motivation he required. A valuable lesson for me. Possibly shame was crippling him, I would evaluate the data later. I groaned with relief as he knelt behind me and positioned himself to enter. I felt the blessed touch of his hand parting my cheeks. The spongy mass of his subtly tapered cockhead pressed for entry. Extreme pleasure! My skin sensors hummed with each brush of his torso and I drank his scent deep. His cock was hitting every embedded pressure sensor and igniting my friction sensitive lining. So pleasurable! My balls were swollen to fullness, ready to spew elixir at any moment. His thrusting sent storms of tingling joy through my circuits from the backs of my thighs up into my throat. I regulated my oxygen usage, tightening my epiglottal closure. My beloved responded to the moist sound with great urgency, pounding me harder and grunting. Ecstasy! I opened my throat, groaning as the liquid fire of orgasm erupted from my balls in hot spurts.