Date: Sat, 29 Jun 2002 16:30:06 +0000
From: Java Biscuit <javabiscuit@hotmail.com>
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.