Date: Sat, 21 Apr 2001 14:55:36 EDT
From: AmateurishWriter@aol.com
Subject: M.A.R.C. Ch. 3

M.A.R.C.

Warning: The following story is a work of fiction.  It is a fantasy.  It
never happened, except in the author's imagination.  This story may contain
sex between teenage boys, a man and a teenage boy or multiple male teens.
The author does not encourage or condone sex between adults and little
children. If you are underage, or this is illegal where you are, you
already know what you're supposed to do.  Delete this file and find
something else.  If this kind of story turns you off, delete this file and
find something else.  If you're looking for a story that has someone having
sex in every other sentence, this one is not it.

The author retains the copyright for this story.  Placing this story on a
commercial web site without the authors permission is a violation of that
copyright.

Comments to AmateurishWriter@aol.com, pro and con and of a constructive
nature, will be gratefully received and acknowledged, if possible.  Flamers
will be ignored.


Near the end of Chapter Two:

I had been afraid this morning that I would have trouble being believable,
doubting my acting talents.  Now, here I was, already being compassionate
and sympathetic to an android.  Hell, I had tears in my eyes a few moments
ago.  That's when I realized for the first time that this whole idea just
might work.  If it was believable, then it could work.

"Uncle John?"

"Yes, Marc."

"I'm scared."

"Oh Marc, of course you are, of course you are.  You know how, if you
opened the door to the cockpit, you'd know pretty much what was on the
other side?"

"I think so.  Ah, ... I think I know what you mean."

"Well, Marc, you have just been forced to open and go through a door having
very little idea as to what lies on the other side.  Do you follow?" I
asked.

"Yes," Marc replied. "I think so."

"So, who wouldn't be scared?  It's perfectly understandable.  But I assure
you, I care.  I care more than you can imagine and I will try my best to
always be there when you need me."

"You know Uncle John, you are just as I remember.  You talk to me like I
was a real person, not a kid.  I will try too.  I want to be there for you
too."  A tear rolled down my cheek as he looked up at me.  He reached over,
brushed it off with his thumb and smiled shyly.


Chapter Three - A new life with giggles in it

We landed and as we disembarked, the pilots directed us through the fences
to the parking area so we could avoid the busy terminal.  My car had been
broiling in the sun so we drove home with the windows wide open and the
wind roaring through.  While Marc had been quiet on the plane he seemed in
better spirits now that we were down and headed home.  I was glad to see he
was curious about where we were.  Finally, I made our turn and we headed
down the long road to my neighborhood.  When I told him we were getting
near he became even more watchful and curious.

"Are there many kids in the neighborhood?  What do they do for fun?
Where's the school?  Do you have a computer?  What about sailing?  I
remember you talking about a boat?  Is there a place to swim? ..."  On and
on he went with a long run of very 13 year old type questions.  I was
trying hard not to chuckle but mainly, I was pleased.  It seemed that he
was trying.  I knew that there would be moments, bad moments.  But, he
seemed to be a fighter and I liked that.

Finally we passed out of the trees and the beach opened up on the left and
the harbor on the right.  "Awesome, he breathed.  "Way awesome."

We curved around the harbor and pulled into the driveway.  The automatic
garaged door went up and I carefully pulled in.  Collecting my bag and the
small one that Marc had, I was sure to grab my new corporate briefcase.
The one with the voice activated locks.  I directed Marc into the kitchen.
His jaw dropped as he looked out at the view from the kitchen of the bay in
the background and the dock and beach in the foreground.

"Oh Uncle John, it's beautiful!  You like to sail, right?  I love to sail.
Do you have a boat?  Can we go out? ...  Oh ... I'm sorry.  That was rude.
My moms says ..."  He stopped and looked up at me.  His chin trembled and
he ran to hug me.

"That wasn't rude Marc.  It was a very nice compliment."  I stroked his
hair.  "Come on, I'll show you around and then let's see about rooms
upstairs.  I didn't have a chance to move things around before I flew out
yesterday.  But now that I think about it, I'm glad because now you can
make a choice of bedrooms."  I thought I was playing the script out quite
well.

"As I'm sure you can tell, the house is very straight forward.  From the
kitchen we can go straight through to the dining room and then the living
room beyond.  Outside, all along the left side here, is porch then patio
and then lawn.  You can go out from each room.  To the right here by the
door to the garage is the hall which goes past the utility room, the
laundry, a downstairs bath, the stairs to the second floor and then the
front hall which also leads to the living room.  I guess you could call it
a beach house.  What do you think?"  I looked at Marc and his loose jaw and
mouth agape indicated his impression.

"Oh man!  This is so cool!"

I smiled from ear to ear.  "I'm glad you like it Marc.  It's meant to be
lived in and enjoyed so don't worry about sand from the beach, water or
that sort of thing.  That's what brooms, mops and vacuums were invented
for.  We can't be slobs but I'm not a house cleaning fanatic."

"That's okay Uncle John, I like being neat and organized."

"Well, I'm sure I will appreciate that but keep in mind, you will have
responsibilities.  You know. Chores.  But, enough of that.  Let's finish
the tour."

Up on the second floor there were three bed rooms and three baths.  In the
Southwest corner was the master bedroom with views on two sides.  A bath
was to the right.  To the left of the master bedroom was an adjoining bed
room that I had made into an office.  It was complete with its own bath and
entrance through to the hall on the left.  It had views nearly as
spectacular as the master bedroom.  Along that whole left side of the house
was a small deck above the porch.  It was more for looking out over the
patio, lawn, beach, dock and water beyond, than for sunning or dining.
Across the hall was the guest room and bath.

When we had looked all around I guided him back to the top of the stairs
with the office on the left and the guest room on the right.  "Well Marc,
let's go.  What will it be?  Office or guest room?"

"Huh?"  He looked confused and a bit overwhelmed.  "Guest room I guess."

"But this is your home now Marc.  You're not a guest."

"I don't understand Uncle John.  There isn't a bed in the office."

"Well, you could sleep under the desk," I teased.  He giggle but still said
he was still confused.  "Marc, if they were both empty rooms which would
you choose?"

"The office but ..."

"No buts kid!  The office it is.  Tomorrow we'll go down to the furniture
store and you can have a ball.  It'll be a blast!"  That usage of "antique"
language got me another giggle.  "However, tonight I guess you'll have to
put up with the guest room.  For now though, what would you like to do?
I'll start supper and you can explore.  How's that?"

"I think I'll just stay here with you."

"Marc?  I understand and will agree on one condition."

"What?" he asked with suspicion.

"First, I'd like you to do something in the way of exploration.  I know
you're curious.  Hmmm ... let's ... how about a walk down to the dock and
back."

"Yes sir."

"Whoa, that's not an order Marc.  It's just an idea.  It's okay if you
don't."

"Oh, okay.  I would just like to stay here."

"Okay, I understand."

Marc followed me to my room where I put my things away and washed up.  He
sat on the king sized bed and followed my every move with his eyes.  I
suspected that he was afraid I'd disappear or something.  I think I
understood.  Then he asked me to wait in the guest room while he washed up
in the guest bath.  When he was finished he followed me down to the
kitchen.  I started a light supper of soup and salad for me and salad with
a burger for him.

After a few minutes of idle chatting Marc excused himself and shortly I saw
him stroll across the lawn headed for the dock and beach.  Glad that he
changed his mind, I stood at the sink and watched out the window.  He
walked down to the seawall and stopped.  It was a beautiful evening and he
stood looking out over the water with his hands in his pockets and the
breeze blowing through his soft nearly white hair.  I went about the
business of making a salad with all the usual stuff.  I like all sorts of
veggie in my salad.  I call it a garbage salad.  Then I put some minestrone
soup on the stove to warm and headed for the patio to start the gas grill
for Marc's burger.  I looked down the lawn to where he was still standing.
As I gazed at him, silhouetted against the blue of the water and the sky, I
began to get the feeling that I should go to him.

I yelled down, "Marc!  Do you want to grill your own burger?"  I did it
more to let him know that I was outside than to actually get him to grill.
When he didn't respond I started to walk down the lawn.

I was about 20 feet away when I spoke softly, "Marc, you okay?"  He turned
silently to look at me and then returned to his staring out at the horizon.
I came up behind him and put a hand on each shoulder.  "The mysterious and
wonderful sea.  It's beautiful.  I love it so."  I massaged his neck and
shoulders and he leaned back against me affectionately rubbing the back of
his head against my chest.  I slid my hands down his chest and hugged him
gently, holding my lips to the top of his head in a long fatherly kiss.  I
breathed in deeply savoring his boy aroma.

"Uncle John?  You ... you wont leave me will you?"

"Marc, I honestly care for you.  You've been entrusted to my care by your
parents who I also care for deeply.  It is an awesome responsibility, being
a God parent.  Even though I was never destined to be married and have
children, I have always liked, enjoyed and wanted children.  Now I have you
and I am grateful for your parents for their trust in me.  And ... and
yours too.  I will try my very best to never let them, or you, down.  I
turned him around and slipped to one knee before him.  I took his hands in
mine and said, "I give you my solemn promise on this."  He hugged me to
him, pillowing my face on his stomach.  I kissed his tummy and he giggled.
I love getting kids to giggle.  Heck, I love getting anyone to giggle.  It
is like a little victory each and every time.

I stood up and we walked back to the house hand in hand.  I was happy that,
though he was 13, he still had enough little boy in him to want the
security and comfort of holding hands.  We arrived at the patio and I said,
"Okay young man, out with it!  Can you cook on a grill?"

"Ah, ah, ... I ..."

"Come, come boy, spit it out, fess-up.  I'm sure I see a chef behind those
bright blue eyes."  He giggled and I smiled inside and out.

"I've never tried," he admitted.  "But, I watched my Dad many times ..."
His voice trailed off.

"Your Dad was a grilling wizard so I just know you've got it in your
genes."  He giggled back at me, "No Uncle John, that's just me in my jeans.
But I'm willing if you are."  My mind did a little spin over his innocent
choice of words.

"Well, I'm just having soup and salad so I'm safe."  I got a friendly jab
in the ribs as he took the barbie tongs from me.  We were loosening up
nicely.  As he turned to put his burger on the grill I noticed for the
first time how good that "just me in there" did indeed look.  His faded
jeans were a snug fit and showed off his boyhood in front and nice firm and
round fullness in back.  I was oddly ashamed of myself for looking and had
to remind myself that he was an android and this was research.

We sat out on the porch and had a quiet supper.  My soup and salad went
very well with a glass of white zinfandel.  Marc, on the other hand, needed
two large sodas while he bravely tried to convince me that he liked his
burgers charred and crunchy.  He ate two helpings of salad though, so I
didn't worry too much about his starving.  We both loved fruit and devoured
a very sweet pineapple.  I cleared the table and asked Marc, the chef, to
damp the fire.

He poked at the coals with the tongs and then sort of trembled.  "Huh?  Oh
my."

"What is it Marc?"

"Why, ummaahh, somehow I just slipped into research mode," he replied.

I gasped and asked, "Do we have a problem?"

"I don't know John.  Let me uplink to the support center."

I waited.

It turned out to be a timer problem and a blessing in disguise.  The
company had given me all the legal papers I'd need but, with the changes I
had requested there was some downloading to do.  Also, Marc the Tech would
have some information and messages for me when the connection was
concluded.  I had him sit in the breakfast nook while I did the dishes and
cleaned up the kitchen.  He just sat there looking out the window as he
worked silently with the center.  After about an hour he got up and came
into the living room where I was now watching the news.  He filled me in.

Back at the center, we had talked about a number of tactics like home
schooling and other substitutes for the usual life of a 13 year old boy,
all in an effort to avoid suspicion.  However, it had been recommended
instead that Marc be "mainstreamed" for as long as practical.  I was glad
of that.  I wanted a normal boy, not a shut in.  Also, he was to get
involved with after school things such as Boy Scouts or sports or whatever
Marc wanted and I thought best.

Finally, we discussed how to explain to Marc about his loss of an hour and
a half.  I know they could download memories to cover it but I worried too
much about my own ability to be convincing.  I suggested that they program
him to sleep for an hour after I switched modes back.  They agreed.  I had
Marc the Tech sit down and then I switched him over.  He immediately
slumped down in the chair.  I picked him up in my arms and took him up to
the guest room.  I gently lay him down on the bed and took off his T-shirt,
shoes, socks and finally his jeans.  As almost all his clothes had burned
in the fire, these clothes had been carefully selected to look like they
came from welfare and so, were well used.  He wore white jockey shorts
under his jeans and, besides being nearly worn out, they were one size too
small.  I couldn't help but notice that they accentuated his physique.
Again, I was ashamed of myself for looking.  But, he was very adorable.  I
covered him up with the bedspread, turned down the light and put soft music
on the radio.  I kissed his forehead and left him to sleep.

It had been a long day and so I locked up down stairs and went to my room.
I showered, turned down my bed and stretched out to read.  I put some
classical music on and relaxed.  It was getting late so I wouldn't have
been surprised if Marc had just rolled over and gone back to sleep when he
awoke as scheduled.  Even though he was an android, he was programed to
need sleep like any 13 year old.  The time was used for maintenance, just
like a human.  Instead, I heard some soft footsteps in the hall and when I
looked up, Marc was standing in the door.

"Hey buddy, how do you feel?  Come on in and sit down."  He was just in his
briefs and a vision to behold.  I had to pull up the sheet to cover myself.
I was just in running shorts and the affect he was having on me would
surely not have gone unnoticed.  He sat by me and asked what had happened.
I told him that he must have been really bushed as he had fallen asleep on
the porch and that I had to put him to bed.

"I was pretty tired I guess.  You undressed me?" he asked self-consciously.

"Yup," I said proudly.  "One of the responsibilities of parenthood.  You
can look it up.  It's under procedures for tucking in."  He groaned and
smiled shyly.

"I was scared when I woke up in a strange place."

"I guess I should have thought of that.  I should have put you to bed here
so when you did wake up you wouldn't be alone.  I'm sorry."

"That's okay Uncle John, we both have a lot to get used to I guess."

I teased, "Aw, you're sweet."

He chuckled and said, "No?  I don't think so.  If you taste me I think
you'll find me a bit salty.  Oh, and maybe spicy like a jaleapino pepper."
I threw a pillow at him as I thought about other than innocent possible
meanings again.  He caught it and gently tossed it back.

"Can I stay in here?" he asked with a yawn.

"Sure," I yawned back.  "Hop over to the other side and climb in."  I got
up and opened all the windows to get the sea breeze and hear the waves.
Then I shut off the stereo and climbed in on my side.  "Check this out," I
mischievously challenged.

"Huh?"

"Lights OFF!" I commanded.  Bingo, it was dark.

"COOL!  Can I try it?"

"Well, it's set for my voice but we can rig up your room the same way if
you like."

"Oh yeah!  Tomorrow is gonna be so awesome buyin' all that furniture and
stuff.  I can't wait."

"There's clothes to buy too don't forget."  I yawned, "Well, I don't know
about you but I need to get some shot eye.  Okay?"

"K."

"Uncle John?

"Yeah Marc?"

"Thank you."

"You are very welcome Marc."

"And ... well, I ... I ... well, I like you a lot too."

"I like you a lot too Marc."

"I trust you too Uncle John."

"Aw, thanks Marc.  I appreciate that too."  He was being so sweet.  It was
hard not to giggle about it.

"Uncle John.  Can I ask you a question?"

"Oh, okay." I gave in and giggled a little.

"Come on, I haven't asked THAT many.  Besides, this is serious."

"I know, I'm just teasing.  Shoot!"

"What's it like being gay?"

"Choke, sputter, cough.  Ah, um ... ah ... er ..."

"Don't be embarrassed John.  I heard my parents talking about you once.  I
don't mind you're being gay.  I'm glad you are."

I regained some composure.  As a matter of fact, I was rather surprised at
my reaction, Marc being who he really was and all.  "Thanks Marc, I
appreciate that.  I'm glad you know and are cool with it.  I was going to
tell you after you got better settled in.  By the way, I want you to know
that you can talk with me about anything.  Okay?"

He persisted.  "Okay but what's it like?"

"Well, there's a lot to it.  A gay person is a minority person.  Some
people discriminate against us.  Some fear us.  Some hate us.  And most
don't understand us, not even ourselves.  It's something we should talk
about more, much more, sometime soon.  Okay?"

"Okay but it sounds scary and lonely."

"Yeah, it can be at times.  But, if you have people you love and trust it
helps."

Well, you got me Uncle John and I got you."

"Huh?"  Now what did he mean by that I wondered.  Was he going to come out
to me sooner than planned?

"Never mind.  Let's talk more another time.  Good night and thanks again
... ah, well, for taking me in and all."

"You're most certainly welcome.  You're a special boy to me Marc.  Sweet
dreams."

"Umm, I hope so."

Sometime later a frightened little boy slowly moved across this big bed and
lifted my left arm as I slept on my back.  He snuggled in underneath my arm
putting his head on my chest, sliding his left arm across me and his left
leg over mine.  As he molded his warm body to mine and his boyhood grew
hard against my hip, I felt his tears drop down and wash across my chest.
My own tears silently flowed as well and while I made no movement, I sensed
that he knew I had awakened and was with him.  My heart swelled to bursting
with love for this lonely little boy whom I had forgotten was not a real
boy at all and who, nonetheless, was not alone anymore.

Finally my eyes started to droop and, despite a stuffy nose from crying, I
drifted off to sleep.  I love sleeping with the windows and curtains wide
open.  The air is always fresh and smells of the seasons and the sea.  When
there is any decent amount of moonlight the water is beautiful at night.
That's why my bed is one step up on a platform and the windows low.
Anything unusual outside and I usually wake up.  When I do I will turn on
my right side and lie there enjoying the scene.  This night it was a ship
going down the coast all lit up like a Christmas tree.  I knew I couldn't
hear it or anyone on it but I imagined I could.  I gently rolled to my
right under Marc's arm and lay there dreaming of life on the sea in clipper
ships days.  I drifted back to sleep.

Again I awoke but this time the ship was gone.  It was Marc who woke me.
He had snuggled up behind me and molded his body to mine.  It was sweet how
most matching parts didn't quite fit.  Feet not quite behind feet and knees
not quite behind knees but closer.  Hips behind my bum, tummy to my back
but because he was a good foot shorter than my 6', his face was pressed
between my shoulder blades.  Lord only knew where his right arm was but his
left was around me very possessively with his fingers just under my right
breast.  I could feel his warm breath on my back and could tell he was
awake.  I didn't want him to know he had awakened me for fear he would
think it bothered me and he'd not want to sleep like this.  It didn't
bother me.  In fact I loved it and hoped that we would sleep like this from
now on.  However, it had to be his idea, his desire.

My breathing was slow and relaxed.  I was at peace and began to think about
the day ahead.  Furniture and clothes, those were the biggest needs.  I was
going to have fun seeing what he liked.  There were clothes that I'd like
to see him in but it really was up to him what he wore.  I feel that
clothes are an expression of the wearer and I wanted him to be himself.  My
only real guidelines would be responsible budgeting.  I was deep in this
thinking and had nearly forgot about the warm breath on my back when I was
brought back to reality by a slow but firm hip thrust against my behind and
a trembling exhale on my back.  Now I realized that I could feel Marc's
erection slide against the crack between my cheeks.  His erection along
with his trembling and breathing made it more than obvious that he was very
aroused.  My heart picked up a beat or two because it meant that he was
attracted to me, maybe even falling in love with me.

I lay there while he moved against me every once in a while.  His hardon
felt good there and seemed to be just the right size.  It was hard not to
just roll over, take him in my arms and make love to him.  But I knew he
would remember these first few days with more satisfaction and happiness if
he progressed at his own pace and initiation.  I felt his arm around me
tighten as his movements became more earnest.  His breathing became short
hot gasps in time with his thrusts.  Suddenly he went rigid and made high
pitched strangled sounds like he was trying to stifle his groans of
pleasure.  When his spasms passed he slowly calmed down and relaxed.

Then I felt it was time he knew I was awake and that I was okay with what
he did.  I moved my left hand over his and drew it up to my mouth and
kissed his palm.  He froze and then began to tremble like a scared rabbit
caught in the headlights of a car.

I whispered, "You don't have to be afraid."

He hesitated a moment and then spoke, "I'm sorry.  What I did was wrong.
But I couldn't help it.  It felt so ... so ... I guess it just feels so
good here with you.  I'm sorry if you're mad."

I rolled back onto my back keeping him close to me and put my arm around
him.  He lifted himself up on his elbow and looked at me.  "Are you mad at
me?"

"No Marc, I'm not mad at you at all.  I'm glad you felt comfortable enough
to want to get that close to me and flattered that it made you feel so
good.  How can that be wrong?  I just wanted you to know that I was awake
and had enjoyed it too.  We can continue if you like or go back to sleep if
you would rather.  I just want you to be happy."  I knew that prepubescent
youngsters, who've had the good fortune to experience dry orgasms, can have
multiple ones.

He didn't answer but snuggled up close, pulling my arm tight around him and
gripping me with his other arm.  His leg slipped over my left leg and down
in between.  His hard boyhood was now pressed tight to my hip.

Marc gave a silly giggle and declared; "You have a big hairy tummy Uncle
John."

"I know my skinny young friend, I'm always trying to diet."  I sounded
defensive.

"Oh no, I like it.  Don't diet too much please."  He giggled again.

Then he ran his fingers through the graying hair on my chest and sighed
with happiness.  I kissed the top of his head and he shyly smiled up at me.
His groin pushed against me and his boner slid along my hip.  As he
continued he began to breath more deeply.  I moved my hand down to his side
and softly caressed him there.  After a while his hip movements increased
in tempo and his breath started to come in short gasps.  I kissed the top
of his head again and held my lips there.  He smelled so good, so much of
boy.  I was getting hot myself and noticed as my breath on the top of his
head became heavier, his humping got even more urgent.  He began to softly
moan an eerie moan that sounded like a question or plea.  He didn't try to
stifle them this time.  I caressed his side some more and his movements
began to get erratic.  I sensed his impending orgasm and moved my hand down
and cupped the sweet roundness of his bum.  He felt wonderful through his
shorts and as I let out my own low moan, Marc shuddered and reached a
second intense though dry summit.  He let out a short near shriek and froze
tight against me.  I think I felt his hardon throb.  He let out a final
long breath and eased his firm grip on my body.

I felt him relax and slowly go limp in my arms.  His breathing slowed and
became even.  I whispered, "I love you Marc."  But, there was no reply.  He
was asleep.  My last thoughts were of curiosity.  I wondered what he would
say in the morning.  Would he think it was a dream?

Next: Chapter Four - Of Cats and Canaries