Date: Wed, 26 Jun 2002 21:52:06 +0000
From: Java Biscuit <javabiscuit@hotmail.com>
Subject: Free to Good Home, chapter three

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 three

by Biscuit


I felt a nudge, Ty63's chin trapped under my shoulder;
he was trying to turn his head. Afraid I was crushing him
I tried to move but my body responded slowly. I hadn't
stirred more than a little before his hands were suddenly
lifting me up from underneath and he was using the strength
in his arms and the leverage of his hips to roll me onto my
back. Then he slid on top of me, like the slight thing he was.

His strength was astonishing. Not a boy, I thought. Not the
first or the last time I'd think that. It was the central truth and
still it came like a fresh revelation each time. I knew so little
about androids. What a boybot really was, more importantly,
what Ty63 really was, I was discovering second by second.

To me, remembering Sam, it seemed like Ty63 was created
to seem about thirteen years old. He was a little shorter and
slimmer than my brother was at that age, but not much. Ty
was four foot, eleven inches, chin high to me and he weighed
less than a hundred pounds.

Like Sam's body then (a body I knew so well from that brief
span of our lives -- a time when he could electrify me just by
touching me through my underpants) Ty63's body was
balanced at the brink of flowering into maturity. His chest
showed the shapes of muscle not developed, his nipples were
soft bumps poking out gently even when they weren't erect.
Tender as a baby's skin.

I did know that personal service bots were designed for sex,
even if their manufacturer's sometimes made other claims.
Everyone knew that. Ty's body begged to be touched but not
more than my brother's had, really. His small waist called to
your hands, his rounded butt invited stroking. The cock they'd
given him was generous for his size but no bigger than the
thick six inch cock of a well-hung kid, like my brother. Like
a lot of boys, his looked bigger than it was, springing up from
his bare crotch. There was a token wispy blond curl right over
his pretty dick; more like a tease or decoration than pubic hair.

I hadn't had sex with someone so young since I was that young
myself. And other than Sam, the memories weren't that good.
I knew there were guys who devoted themselves to boys but
not surprisingly, I guess, I was afraid of teenagers. I thought
boys were cruel. They were most cruel in groups and I'd make
a detour rather than pass a school yard packed with them. I'd
cross the street to avoid walking through a group of them. Here
and there I'd met someone's nephew or son who seemed all
right but for the most part, I avoided them.

Now I was remembering how beautiful they could be.

Maybe there were boybots whose bodies were more exaggerated;
Ty63 was obviously meant to seem real. It made the things that
were not human about him more unsettling.

We were resting, or at least I was, and he was relatively quiet.
He was draped on top of me. He lifted his head up to look at me.
His straight sandy hair was tangled in back from being rubbed
against the bed when we'd fucked. I reached up to smooth it.
His hair was cut to frame his face, a little longer in back where
my fingers were sorting out the loose knot.

"Blessed human companion," he said, his head leaning into
my touch; his eyes misty, half shut. It was so strange to hear
such a formal sounding phrase come out of him. It stilled me
in the midst of the closeness I was feeling. His brows knit
worriedly; he was sensitive to every shift of my emotions.

"Tell me your name," he said. "I lost it when you stripped my
files."

When I stripped his files? A warning signal flashed inside.
When I'd lied and said I was his human it hadn't occurred to
me that he would hold me responsible for the damage that had
been done to him. The truth wanted out of me. My eyes darted
past him to the window as I fought with the impulse to confess
my lie. It was gray outside, I couldn't tell if it was snowing.

"My name is Tobias Kraft," I said, making myself look back
at him. "People call me Toby."

"Do I call you Toby?" he asked, his almost cobalt-blue eyes
searching me like med scanners. I took a deep breath and
nodded.

"I call you Ty," I said. His brows, just visible under the fringe
of his bangs, knit tighter. Though he was fair I kept thinking I
saw the suggestion of something Egyptian in his face. Maybe I'd
seen the image of some boy Pharaoh that floated up as I studied
his features, especially his mouth. It was a wide mouth. His lips
were full but firm and defined, not pouting. It was a dignified
mouth for such a young face, more sensuous than pretty.

"You call me ... Ty. Just Ty?" he said. "No special name?" He
looked so hurt, so disappointed, that I tried to think of something
else his special name could be. Ty-something? Tyler? Too obvious.
Tiberius, God no. Tiger!

"Tiger is your special name," I said, "but sometimes I call you
Ty, for short."

Oh God, I begged silently, please let him believe me! When
he smiled my whole body relaxed and I wiped my guilty
sweaty palm on the bed sheet before laying it on his back.

"Tiger," he repeated and made a soft growling sound.

So many pitfalls. I couldn't believe I was ever going to carry
off the charade of owning him. I needed time though, to think
of a way to tell him the truth without hurting him. Or, if not
the truth, something close enough to be bearable.

I knew I was in deep. I'd done something both like me and
completely out of character. The rescue of a broken bot was
like me. Keeping a live bot that didn't belong to me was a
whole other thing. If it hadn't happened in stages I couldn't
have done it. I did it inch by inch, never letting myself look
at the whole picture until it was too late to turn back.

This kiss, this touch, this minute.

At least he liked his name. It met whatever need he had to be
cherished for himself, unique among Ty63s. I stroked his
shoulders, more relieved than I can say, feeling the fine shape
of bones. I felt his ribs and he twisted a little with obvious
pleasure as I traced them.

"Toby, I wish you would make me a promise," he said, his head
dipping down to kiss center of my chest.

"What do you want me to promise?" Anything, I thought. I'd
promise anything to keep his brows smooth, his face smiling.
To keep him.

"I am going to help you become wealthy," he said and he
looked up with a bright smile. "You can be a model and
make a lot of money." What a bizarre thing to say. I smiled,
cautiously, waiting for the promise part. "You'll never have
to think about selling me again." His happy look faded as he
said that and so did mine. "But if you do. If you have to, I
wish you would promise not to strip my memories again."

Not me, I wanted to tell him, I didn't do that to you. I wouldn't,
I couldn't. What he believed set my heart aching like a knife
going through it. It was so hard to keep my mouth shut and
not tell him that I hadn't done it. He was still talking and I had
to struggle to follow.

"I know you did it to make it easier for me," he said. But he
didn't say it like he knew it, he said it like he hoped it was
true. "I'd rather remember you and feel the pain of missing
you than forget. I am capable of storing them safely."

I swallowed the words that wanted to pour out. The truth
would hurt him more than he was hurting now, I thought. It
would be unbearable for him to know that someone had done
it -- not to sell him, but to throw him away.

"I promise," I said. "It won't happen. I'm keeping you."

"But, if ..."

"Don't think about it," I said. On the very shaky ground of
improvisation I stepped carefully but determinedly; I had to
put his fears to rest. "I realized after I did it," I told him,
feeling the truth of the emotion even if the rest was a lie,
"that you're more important to me than money. I won't. I
won't ever strip your memories again, or sell you."

Was there still a hint of doubt in his eyes? I didn't look away,
letting him search my face, my eyes. Finally, the smile came
back and the eyes sparkled instead of scrutinizing. Then he hid
his face on my chest, nosing almost ticklishly near my armpit
and kissing where he'd rubbed his nose. I closed my eyes,
feeling like I'd walked the crumbling edge of a pit and made
it safely to firm ground.

My newly christened Tiger was making his way down my
stomach and I was getting hard imagining where he was
going.

I groaned softly when his lips close around me. All I can say
is thank God he couldn't see my face moments later. He'd have
known in an instant that I knew nothing about his body. He sank
down in one swift motion, embedding my cock in a throat like
no human body possesses. I was surrounded by sucking, pulling
wet heat that closed tight and started to vibrate. I grabbed for
handfuls of the bedcovers, gasping for air.

Like before, when I'd fucked him, I went tumbling headlong
from the tenderest feelings of intimacy to pure rut, like I'd
been set on fire. I was rocketing toward coming at the speed of
light. At one point he rose up, holding my thighs down by force
and I saw my dick. It was so red and swollen and thick it didn't
even look like my own flesh to me. Then he plunged down and
I was gone. I sounded like a wounded animal. He wasn't just
sucking, it felt like he was suctioning the spunk right out of
my balls in pulsating streams.

"Toby," that raspy voice pulling me back to life. I opened my
eyes. He was red-cheeked and his mouth was wet. I could see
down his stomach his cock bouncing up, foreskin back showing
the shiny pink head. "You okay? Did I make it go too fast?"
he asked, like he'd done something wrong.

"I'm okay," I said, my breath still huffing. Where he'd been
some kind of sex machine only moments before, now he was
just a boy, looking to me for approval, his own hard dick
ignored though I could see his little hips moving restlessly.

I wanted his dick.

"Tiger," I said, "I want to suck you."

He squeaked and shut his eyes; one hand flying to his boner.
Shutting his eyes seemed to be a control mechanism; not so
different from what humans do, I guess. It gave me a couple
of seconds to recover. When his eyes opened again he grinned.

"You really want to?"

"Really, really, come here," I said, patting my chest, and he
carefully walked up on his knees, straddling me. Again I was
in for a shock, but a very different kind. His throat was not
human but his dick was. It tasted -- exactly like dick. No two
people have the same exact smell and taste, but his were as real
to me as any I'd ever encountered. I couldn't believe that the
musk of sex and traces of sweat could be reproduced. True
it was light, like he'd washed himself carefully, but he had
unmistakable smell and flavor you only find with your face
between a guy's legs.

He seemed to love it. I didn't question that his pleasure was
real. When he was ready to come his dick swelled bigger in
my mouth, a vein jumping against my lip. I heard him squeak,
then came a groan as he creamed me. Incredible warm spurts,
some in me, some blasted under my chin when he suddenly
pulled out and back, stroking himself downward in a tight fist.
I was swallowing, dazed by an overall lust, but my arousal was
tempered with amazement.

Ty63. Tiger. My boybot. The the only lover I'd ever had in
my own bed. Looking up at his face, seeing it contorted with
the pleasure of his climax, the taste of him in my mouth; I was
convinced beyond doubt that he was alive and I adored him.

When he was in my arms afterwards, curled up with his
back to my belly, my cock nesting under his backside, he
hugged my arms tight around him.

"I knew it would be like this," he said, with a happy sigh
so soft and sweet that it nearly killed me.

"I love you, Tiger." I had to say it or die on the spot.