Date: Fri, 8 Mar 2002 22:37:19 EST
From: AmateurishWriter@aol.com
Subject: M.A.R.C. Ch. 20

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 or in print without the authors permission is a
violation of that copyright.

Disclaimer: M.A.R.C. is in no way related to a certain movie character or
characters of a similar age and construction and/or recently released
sci-fi movie.  Any and all similarities are purely coincidental.

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 Nineteen:

Shaking off the dream, Marc carefully slid off the bed, so as not to
disturb John, and went into the bathroom to pee.  He marveled at this
common but necessary activity.  He was an android, artificial intelligence,
an artificial life form and yet ... and yet ...  He was still awash in awe
at the magnitude of it all.  He didn't feel like part machine and part
living tissue.  But then, what should that feel like?  He felt like a boy,
a human boy.  But then, what did a human boy feel like?  He didn't know the
answers to either question and decided that it didn't really matter.  He
felt like himself and it was good.

As he quietly made his way back to bed, forgetting to wash his hands just
like any other boy, he gazed down at John again.  He stood by the bed
looking at the peacefully sleeping man and something else, the equal to the
awesomeness of his very existence, came to mind; He loved this man ... and
he knew that he, even as an android boy, was unconditionally loved in
return.


Part Two - Life goes on

Chapter Twenty - Overload

Saturday dawned with the soft warm sultry breeze of a summer morning at the
shore.  The intoxicating smells of the salt water mingled with the scents
of early summer flowers opening to a new day.  The seagulls were raucously
vying for tasty morsels of fish washed ashore from the homeward bound
trawlers.  Everything was renewed and alive in the early morning sunshine.
I loved waking up with my senses teased by these delights.  I lay there
enjoying them until the memories of last evening slowly crept back into my
mind.  I wondered how Marc had slept.

I rolled over with care, as I didn't want to wake him yet if he was still
sleeping peacefully.  He lay flat on his back.  His eyes were closed and he
was breathing softly.  I smiled to myself as he looked kind of like a rag
doll just flopped carelessly on the bed.  In Marc's case though, he was an
anatomically correct and totally naked doll with the usual delightfully all
male and rigid morning indicator of a full bladder.  Other than that, he
looked so peaceful that I decided to let him sleep a while longer.

Thirty minutes later, with my morning rituals out of the way and the coffee
on, I returned to rouse my sleeping beauty of a boy.  I leaned over him and
planted a soft kiss on his smooth unfurrowed forehead.  "Come on
sleepyhead.  If you don't get up soon that cute piss-hard of yours might
spring a leak."

Nothing.

I spoke again with a little more urgency.  "Marc, breakfast is awaitin'!
God help me, I even have Pop-Tarts for ya'!"

Still nothing.  I placed my hand on his shoulder and shook him gently.
"Marc?  Wake-up son!"

He didn't even so much as flick an eyelid.  I put my hand to his forehead
but it felt normal.  He was breathing, just not responding.

A cold surged of fright jolted through me clear down to the soles of my
feet.  I turned one way and then the other but didn't know what I was
looking for.  "Don't panic John!  Stay calm."  I mumbled out loud to
myself.

I forced myself to take a couple of deep breaths.  "Okay, okay ... now
what's the emergency code words?"  I grappled with my fear muddled memory
and then softly but urgently spoke the short phrase that would cause Marc
to establish an automatic uplink to support at the consortium.

I waited.

About 30 seconds later, 30 seconds that seemed like an eternity, the phone
rang.

"Hello? ... Yes, unresponsive. ... No, normal breathing.  No, he looks
fine, good color. ... Just asleep. ... Huh? ... Yes.  Okay.  We'll be
there. ... No, no, thanks anyway but I can manage."

The young lady on the other end of the phone introduced herself as Sharon.
She was very professional, calm and reassuring.  The data from the uplink
indicated that Marc was in no danger but that I would have to get him back
there right away.  She put it in the simplest of terms.  He had suffered,
in a sense, an overload.  A safety shutdown routine was automatically
triggered by the intense emotions and feelings caused by his learning about
who he really was.

She said that she would meet us in the corporate jet at the airport in
about two hours.  So, there was a lot to do.

Marc and I would surely have a good laugh after this ... I hoped.  First, I
had to deal with his piss-hard.  A warm shower would probably trigger
things.  I tossed off my bathrobe and gently lifted the boy off the bed.
It's true that an unconscious person seems to gain weight if you have to
move them.  He seemed heavy and was certainly ungainly but I somehow
managed to get in the shower with him and get a warm spray of water running
over us.

I had my arms under his and around him, holding him up facing me with is
head nestled on my left shoulder.  The warm rush of shower water hit us
sideways and ran down over our stomachs and groins.  I watched as his
erection began to subside and, after a few moments, a second stream of
warmth began to caress my groin and run down my leg.  My penis, with a mind
of its own, began to respond to this surprisingly erotic feeling.  Soon his
bladder was empty and, after a quick wash and rinse, I was able to very
clumsily get us both out of the shower and fairly well dried off.

As I gently carried him back to the bed, our plans for the day suddenly
popped into my head.  If I didn't make a few phone calls people might
worry.  I carefully lay Marc down again to get him some clothes and went to
check my calendar.  We had talked about taking Jeffrey and his parents out
sailing but hadn't firmed that up.  Still, I should call them.  Then there
was Pete at the Golf range but that could wait.  I had to let the Marshes,
next door, know that we were going to be away ... "Oh Lord!"  I thought.  I
had no idea how long.  Well, I had the cell phone.  Best get going.

Dressing a limp boy is nearly as difficult as trying to dress an
uncooperative toddler.  I opted for simple.  T-shirt, white briefs and
shorts.  Then I threw some other things for both of us in a bag.  I felt
like the family in the movie "Running On Empty" making a quick getaway.

Leaving Marc lying on the bed again, I raced down to the garage with the
bag.  Having no idea what could happen, even in so short a time, I felt
guilty leaving him alone.  I returned as quickly as I could and carried him
down, placing him in the front passenger seat.  I tilted it back so it
would look like he was napping.

After a quick mental run through of the house; lights out, coffee off,
windows closed and doors lock, I got in the car and drove out heading for
the airport.  It was still early, too early to make my phone calls but it
was better to get to the airport and figure out how I would get Marc to the
plane without causing undo curiosity.

It being a Saturday morning, the small airport was surprisingly busy.  Then
I remembered that there was a sailboat regatta at one of the outlying
islands during the next week.  Many of the yachts were world class and
their wealthy owners would fly crew, families and friends back and forth.
This presented a small problem as I knew some of them and if they saw me
they would insist on chatting.  I decided to park over by the pilots'
office and this proved to be a good decision.

The consortium's plane, the very same one that we had flown home in just a
week ago, soon landed and taxied over to this same area of the field.  When
the hatch opened I saw an attractive young lady who I took to be Sharon.
She must have recognized me because she was frantically waving for me to
come to the plane.  By now my adrenaline must have been flowing freely.  I
was able to easily scoop Marc and our bag up in my arms, slam the car door
and sprint for the plane.  As I glanced towards the terminal I noticed a
few heads turn in our direction.  Fortunately, no one seemed curious or
alarmed enough to investigate a man running to a plane with an unconscious
child in his arms.

"Hi John.  I'm Sharon."  She shouted over the whine of the outboard engine.
She gently took Marc from my arms and strapped him into a seat.  "Hurry and
get buckled up.  Sam says we already have clearance to taxi!"  After
securing the hatch, she dashed forward and tapped on the cockpit door.
Then I heard the hatch side engine restart.

"Thanks."  I called after her when she went forward.  "Can I use my cell
phone?"

She slid into a seat and was already buckling herself in.  "Wait until we
are clear of the field."

I reached across the aisle and took Marc's hand.  Even though he wasn't
responsive, I had a feeling that he knew I was there for him.  It was 7 or
8 minutes later that Sharon said I could use the cell phone.

I don't like making up stories but in this case I had to.  Using a last
minute short business trip as an excuse, I called Ralph Marsh and asked him
to keep his eye on the house and boat.  Then I called Jeffrey's parents and
covered things with them.  Poor Jeffrey was disappointed but I assured him
that we'd reschedule for the following weekend.  And, for sure, we'll come
through with an evening sail as soon as we got back.

I had to think fast when Jeffrey asked to speak to Marc.  "We had to get up
real early so he's sound asleep son.  I'll tell him you said hi."

Once we were at cruising altitude Sam called back over the intercom.  "They
just radioed that transportation will be waiting when we get there."

"Thanks Sam."  I called back even though I knew he couldn't hear me.  "I'm
sure Marc will be well taken care of."

Sharon quietly spoke from her seat.  "Sam isn't aware of just who Marc is.
But he does understand that it's highly sensitive consortium business and
to remain in the cockpit.  He is a very discreet and reliable man."  I had
not thought but of course the pilot would be in the dark.

Now that we had leveled off, Sharon got up and checked on Marc.  "He's
doing fine.  When we get there we will have to run some diagnostics and
make some adjustments.  As soon as that's done we can bring him back to
consciousness."

Suddenly I was very concerned again.  "Will he be frightened when he
awakens?  Will he have been aware of what has been going on?"  My fear for
the boy showed in my voice.

Sharon smiled warmly and place her hand on my shoulder.  "Marc will
remember me when he awakens.  I assure you that he will not be afraid."

"I should be there."

"John, look at this situation just as you would any medical procedure.  I'm
sure you know that there are details that doctors don't go into because
they might be too graphic for the family.  And, families are not allowed
into treatment rooms when certain things are being done.  I know that this
is very difficult for you but try to believe, we too feel that Marc is a
living being and we want to do the best for him."

They were soothing and kind words from Sharon.  "Thank you Sharon.  It
helps to know that, particularly that you look at him as living and not
just a machine."

She smiled warmly, almost lovingly, at Marc.  "You know John, I was there."

"There?"

"Yes."  She reached over and caressed Marc's cheek with the backs of her
fingers.  "I was there when he gained first consciousness.  It's ... it was
kind of emotionally like being present at a birth."

I gazed at her as my mind wandered over various thoughts.  "Does he know
you were there?"

She looked thoughtful.  "I believe so.  At least on a subconscious level.
That's why I say he will remember me."

"Then I'm glad you're with him now."  It was my turn to pat her arm.
"You're kind of like ... well, kind of like a mother figure."

"Thank you John."  She almost beamed.  "I kind of like that idea."

We drifted into silence then.  The rest of the flight seemed endless to me.
In my concern for Marc I turned a blind eye to the build up of my own
stress.  Soon we descended into the private airfield and, as promised, the
transportation was right there.  It was manned with a technician who helped
Sharon with getting Marc onto a stretcher.  She was very gentle with him.
But with me she was firm, though diplomatic, as she insisted that I ride up
in the front of the van.  Looking back, I now suspect that she saw how the
stress was building in me and wanted to spare me hearing what was probably
a graphic discussion with the technician.

It was only a few minutes to the edge of the airfield and then to the
entrance of the underground receiving area.  As I climbed out of the front
seat, Sharon and the technician already had Marc's gurney racing through
the glass entryway.  All I could see of him was his head covered with some
sort of ski cap and the many wires trailing from it.

I tried not to be alarmed at the sight and their haste but all reason
escaped me.  After all, android boy or no, he was my boy now, the focus of
my love ... of my life.  My knees failed me and everything faded as I
passed out, slipping to the garage floor.

Next: Chapter Twenty-one - Back to business