Date: Thu, 08 Aug 2002 01:22:53 +0000
From: Java Biscuit <javabiscuit@hotmail.com>
Subject: Free to Good Home, chapter 14

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 14

by Biscuit



A few hours sleep was all I needed to realize it had been a
mistake to call my brother. I woke up aching and miserable
but knowing I couldn't leave the city. I had to stay. I had to
look for Tiger. I had to be there if he found some way to
come home.

I felt disoriented and wanted out of bed, into a shower. Coffee,
I thought, I needed some badly. That Sam was plastered naked
to my back, his cock hard, was alarming but no stranger than
anything else that had happened since I saw the shadow of the
manbot at the top of the stairs, what seemed like days before
though it was less than twelve hours.

I thought Sam was asleep until I started to move. He tightened
his arm around me and he pressed his erection against my ass.

"Don't get up yet," he said, his hips moving in a slow fucking
motion.

I didn't want him to fuck me. I wasn't sure I'd really wanted it
the first time. At least then it had seemed like a gesture meant to
comfort me, to be close. This felt like my brother was horny
and thought he'd re-established some kind of claim on my ass.

Why shouldn't he? The thought hit me hard. I was the one
who'd called him. I'd fallen into his arms and rolled over on
my belly for him. Why shouldn't he think he had a claim?

"Sam," I said, tensing even as I shivered when he ran his open
mouth down the side of my neck. "I'm not going back to the
farm. I've got to stay here and look for Tiger." I hoped just
saying it would stop him; make him think twice about what
he was doing.

"Don't," he said. He half kissed, half bit the side of my neck,
guiding his cock in the split of my ass. "Don't start Toby," he
said. "You are coming home." Did he think fucking me would
prove it?

I started to pull away from him, but like I was a kid, playing
at running away, Sam forced me onto my stomach with his
weight. He slid his dick into me through the slickness of the
cum he'd left inside me.

A wave like cramp went through me and my ass burned but
I kept still with my eyes shut, biting back the pain of it. He
was groaning like it was the best thing he'd ever felt in his
life and part of my brain identified with his pleasure. I knew
how good it felt when it was me on top of Tiger and his little
round butt was taking me in.

Tiger. The thought of him was torture. Whether I let my
brain wander over what had been good or the horror of it;
being gagged and restrained by the massive bot. Sam's body
felt big on top of me; I couldn't imagine what it would feel
like to be crushed under the mountainous manbot. He won't
hurt Tiger, I kept telling myself.

My brother speeded his thrusting, breathing hard near my
ear. I was getting numb to the pain and hoped he would just
hurry, finish, let go of me. I didn't even consider asking him
to stop. I knew I couldn't face the kind of confrontation that
would bring on. Bad enough I was going to have to face him
afterwards and tell him I meant it, I wasn't going with him.

Then Sam shifted on top of me, his cock angling in the right
direction and my body responded in spite of me. I pictured
Tiger. How he'd looked at me with such breathless excitement
the first time I saw him alive and awake beside me. I thought
about how he'd leapt at me and covered me with kisses. Oh,
God. So good -- to hold his vibrant little body, to fuck him.
In my head I heard his moans, not Sam's, the sounds he made
when he was close to shooting off that had become as erotic
to me as a hand or lips on my cock. I thrust hard into the
mattress, all my pain forgotten, and exploded as my brother
stroked himself in me. My sudden frantic movement made
him fuck harder and he started to come.



------------------------------------



Blessed be the Creator.
Blessed be Toby.


"I know your repair is complete, Tyler," the manbot addressed
me by my former name. "You have no need to shield yourself."

I did not answer.

I'd emerged from 5.7 hours of remedial trance. I did not emerge
into full consciousness. I was in possession of multiple restored
memory fragments that claimed my attention. The damaged files;
parts of my past that I'd been protected from viewing by the
creator who dwelled within.

I knew I'd been abducted by the manbot Roget, whose unwelcome
scent surrounded me. I knew I had been promised to him by Roger
Davis. He had, in fact, been created for me.

The truth was a source of great sadness. Too profound to filter
completely, even with the veil of semi trance.

I was strapped into the restraints of a work frame. I speculated
that Roget intended to renew his effort to reprogram me. I now
knew that it was his last attempt to do so, almost precisely 7.3
days prior, which had stripped my files and nearly destroyed me.

He adjusted the frame, spreading my thighs apart, caressing me.

I was indifferent to his touch but aware that turning my senses
outward with the fullness of emotion would be devastating.

Toby, lost. The source of all joy.

"I thought I'd killed you," Roget said, his voice rough with
emotion, his large hands stroking my inner thighs. He handled
my genitals and probed between the cheeks of my ass. I felt his
breath near my penis and then the encompassing wetness and
soft interior of his mouth surrounded it. He sucked at my flesh
until it thickened. He tongued my scrotum and then used suction
to hasten elixir to fill them.

He hadn't killed me but he had left me for dead. In this room.
Unbound, on the bed beside the workframe. My memory of it
was unclear, as if viewed through haze, and yet I was certain
I'd somehow risen from the bed. Impossible, and yet I had a
memory of seeing my own inert body below me.

Roget's mouthing and sucking of my genitals produced a stream
of elixir though I experienced no pleasure and did not fully erect.
He ceased.

"I found the creator's journal," Roget said. "It will work this
time, beloved. I am certain that I have the correct sequence to
safely alter your program."

As he said this I felt the pressure of the terminal at the back of
my neck signaling the start of a datastream; a flow of signals
to base levels of my subconscious. It was indecipherable as it fed
directly into parts of my mind that were inaccessible to me.

Roget's hard cock pressed into me. As Roger Davis had done when
fine tuning my programs, Roget was using stimulation to intensify
the imprint of data. It served this purpose but I knew he had been
fucking me prior to initiating the process. From the amount of his
elixir present inside me, I judged he had ejaculated four, possibly
five times, before I'd regained consciousness.

"Tyler," he groaned the name that had once been mine as he
pleasured himself, thrusting in and out of me. I did not answer.
I continued to review my newly integrated memories.

I knew where I was. It was the laboratory of a safehouse, a
residence of those Roger Davis had referred to as "the others."
My fellow 63s. There were only four of our kind.

I was less than a mile's distance from the home of my beloved.
Do not think of him now, I instructed myself.

I saw the creator dying. I was holding his hand. His breath was
labored.

"Forgive me," he said.

"There's nothing to forgive," I told him, holding his hand to
my cheek, wishing I could ease the strain of his breathing,
assist him in dying.

His intent had been to alter me before his death. To free me, as
he had the others, from the primary directive that bound a bot to
desire human companionship. But in his need to keep me close as
the hour of his death drew near he'd been subject to the fear that
I would change to him once I had been reprogrammed.

He had postponed the alteration until it was too late. That is why
he had begged my forgiveness. The sorrow of that memory was
palpable; I perceived it as a dense haze of emotion though I didn't
feel it in trance. There was nothing to forgive because I'd wanted
our bond to remain intact. I did not perceive my connection to him
or to humankind as bondage.

I was different, even from this small band of my brothers. Two
manbots, two boybots. Envisioned by Roger Davis as eternal mates.
He had loved us. Loved me. There were many fragments in which
I sat at his feet, much as I had sat at the feet of Toby during the
meeting of his writing group. The bond, the emotional attachment
I'd felt to him differed from my feelings for Toby. I put aside this
impression to examine later.

Though the files were damaged, there was enough material
intact to construe that my wish had been to die with my creator.
He had assured me that when the reprogramming was complete
I would no longer desire to end my life. I would welcome, he'd
said, the love of my fellow bot. Roget, he'd told me, would
fulfill me as no human could.

He referred, I believed, to the ways in which Roget's body was
tailored to mine. His proportions were theoretically matched to my
capacity. As I recalled these things, the manbot organ stretched
my body wide. It could provide the greatest possible stimulation of
my pressure sensors. The potential was there, if I could be made to
respond, for physical pleasure. Not fulfillment. Not love.

I had no reference for love in a bot. Love was human. Like sleep,
like aging. For bots there was infatuation, devotion; the desire to
be loved by a human. To call Toby my beloved was, in fact, to
utter a kind of falsehood. Not more so, I speculated, than calling
elixir cum. Nothing lived in the juice my body produced. So, one
might say that a bot's love was to a human's as lifeless as a bot's
cum to the living sperm of a man.

How could there be fulfillment of any kind without service to
organic human life at its core?

Senseless, meaningless existence.

My creator had forbidden me to deactivate myself. I'd gone to
my brothers in hiding as he demanded. I did it without desire. I
desired nothing but to honor his final injunction -- that I continue
to exist.

A month's time I had spent with my small family. There was peace,
at times. Amusement at the antics of Ti'jou, the boybot who shared
my image but had grown his hair long and colored it pink. His mate,
who called himself Rocket, was a Rog63 who likewise let his hair
grow long though the color was unaltered from its original chestnut
hue. My memories of this pair were colored by their devotion to
one another and the many scenes I witnessed of their coupling.

The time was also fraught with distress.

Roget's passion for me had sparked no answering flame. His need
for me was intense. I was sympathetic, compliant, but my physical
indifference had tormented him.

I'd been as numb to his sexual use then as I was now, feeling his
hard flesh move in and out of me. He was approaching climax,
evident in the thickening of his penis and the urgency of his
thrusting.

It was Roget who'd broken into Roger Davis's laboratory; the
theft that haunted my memories. He'd stolen what he needed to
try to reprogram me himself. There were repeated failures; in
memory marked by his sadness.

I had agreed to be subject to his experimentation. In my view, if
he failed and destroyed me it would be the same as if he succeeded.
Either outcome would free me from suffering. I'd misjudged the
depth of my desire to survive, to be united again with a human
companion.

"Tyler," Roget's groans were impassioned, drawing me slightly
outward, as he erupted in climax.

I suppressed awareness of him and turned my attention inward
again to a volatile file, a memory that seemed to demand that I
view it.

Escape! There was exhilaration and fear attached to this memory.

I was in an alley not far from the river. I could smell it and the
odors of refuse. Physical distress! My body needed stimulation and
elixir. Imperative to obtain them for me to continue to function. I
must function long enough to be found by a human.

Looking down I saw words written on my chest and knew that
I had inscribed them though I could not remember the act of doing
so. The words were a plea for human compassion, expressing desire
for a kindly owner. Free bot to good home! To continue to remain
upright was impossible and I lowered myself to the snow-covered
ground.

The memory astounded me. I had not been stolen. I had not been
abandoned. I had maneuvered my semi conscious body out of this
room and into the alley behind the residence.

The images were wreathed in hope and longing though I was on
my hands and knees, moving with difficulty.

A phallic scrap of wood lay on the ground in a shaft of moonlight,
half hidden in snow. Anal penetration would be possible. The firm
core of the branch was sufficient. The soft wet bark that encased
it would break down swiftly into elixir. I perceived the excitement
I'd felt then. I would live! A compassionate human would find me
and forgive my unkempt appearance because no money was
required, only kindness.

I felt the effort to drive the sodden branch into my rectum. Success!

I saw a box a small distance from me that would hold me in waiting
for a human to find. I crawled to it with the wooden shaft giving me
needed stimulation, its loose fibrous bark already beginning to feed
me; elixir easing my joints. Then my memory darkened and ceased
in a trance of urgent repair.

Blessed be.

I had awakened in safety, washed clean and pillowed in the bed
of Tobias Kraft with my fragmented memories of trauma encased
and protected.

My attention to the past had been so singular that it was only at
that moment I became aware that Roget was gone.

I dared to emerge, to feel, to view the environs of the room. It was
painted the same soothing green color as the creator's laboratory.
Emotion of every kind blossomed in consciousness. Longing, grief;
adoration of my lost companion.

How brave Toby had been! Knowing him as I did, I speculated
that the sight of me must have been frightening and distressing to
him. My prince had found me, not as a fabled princess awaiting a
kiss, but a seemingly dead boybot in a darkened alley.

The wooden dildo!

So clear to me now that Toby would never have wielded such an
implement. I recalled how he'd need my reassurance that I was
unhurt before he would fuck me the very first time.

Conjectured images filled me. My sensitive companion carrying me
to his home, removing the branch from my rectum and bathing me.
The tightening of my throat signaled the onset of tearless weeping.
I contemplated his compassion. It was as vast as his beauty. Toby!
I set the images aside to calm myself.

Whatever Roget would do to me, my Toby still existed, unharmed.
I could savor my memories of the feel of his mouth, the scent of his
skin, the imprint of his passionate fucking. My true companion!

I allowed myself to recall the sensations of intimacy with his body,
wishing he were between my legs that very moment, that it was his
blessed sperm moistening my anus and that he was entering me to
fuck me again.

Intense longing! Dangerous levels of craving forced me back into
the safety of trance.

Blessed be my Toby.