Date: Fri, 21 Jun 2002 17:30:31 +0000
From: Java Biscuit <javabiscuit@hotmail.com>
Subject: Free to Good Home, ch. 2

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 two

by Biscuit


Blessed be my creator.
Blessed be my human companion.
Blessed am I to serve humankind.

I emerged from 12.7 hours of self testing and repair
aware that I was damaged but functioning. It was the
longest remedial trance I'd ever undergone.

Return to surface consciousness was brief, 3.5 seconds, in
which I realized I didn't know where I was and I no longer
knew the identity of my human companion. The disorientation
and alarm were so intense that I had to enter semi trance
to suppress all emotion.

In that state I reviewed the repair log in detail, without
panic, seeking information relevant to where I was and why.
Repairs indicated that I had sustained extensive memory
loss. Four hundred and fifty-eight thousand, seven hundred
and twenty-two emptied files. My trance hours had been
devoted to segregating and compacting fragmented files.
Even in semi trance this information was staggering.

The damaged files were stored out of the reach of my
conscious mind. Numbered files; even their names were
hidden from me. They'd be protected until they could be
safely reintegrated.

I emerged gradually, understanding that my location and
context might very well be contained in the inaccessible files.
There was nothing in the log to indicate current danger.
Whatever had caused the damage was more than 12.7 hours
in the past.

I speculated, as calmly as possible but unable to suppress
sadness, that I had almost died. A deliberate but ineffective
attempt had been made to deactivate me. Nothing else I knew
of could cause the destruction of files on that scale. Who but
my primary human, a person whose identity was lost to me,
could have initiated the procedure?

What had I done to warrant death? The anguished guilt this
thought summoned up threatened to send me back into semi
trance. I suspended the thought and praised the creator for
hiding this painful knowledge from me.

No indication of current danger, I reminded myself as I
turned my senses outward. I opened my eyes and breathed
deeply.

Pleasure.

I was on a bed with a soft pillow. The air smelled of coffee,
of a vegetable based soap scented with almond, and the body
scents of a human male. Close, very close. The sound of his
breathing indicated sleep. My human? I turned my head
slowly to look at him.

So beautiful! All humans are but this one was exceptional --
and in all probability he was mine. I uselessly searched my
memory for his name. There was nothing -- no name, no
stored image of his face, no imprint of his smell.

I estimated him to be twenty years old, of mixed European
heritage; probable Celtic, Slavic, and possibly Scandinavian
ancestry.

Could this person have tried to deactivate me?

Without letting myself dwell on the terrible action in question
I looked for signs of discord between us.

Clearly he'd wanted me to be comfortable. My head was on a
pillow, a blanket was spread over me. Unnecessary for warmth.
Did he know that? Did that indicate that he was unfamiliar with
my body? No. I rejected that. No cause for alarm. Plentiful
soothing examples existed in memory of humans treating their
bots as if they could feel pain and discomfort. Common human
behavior, indicative of caring. He cared.

There were traces of soap on both of us. It was very pleasant
to think we had bathed together. Powerful, if wishful evidence
that we were lovers. Wishing was unavoidable in my insecure
circumstances and I did not suppress it. I created a series of
strong sensory images of us naked and wet, touching each other
with lathered hands. Intense pleasure! It dimmed, unfortunately,
as I noted that he'd chosen to sleep under the bed covers without
me. That did not weigh in favor of him being my sexual partner.
It could be a sign of discord. Was he punishing me?

Very upsetting. I was being punished.

But it wasn't severe punishment. He was beside me, facing me
in his sleep, even if he wasn't touching me.

I wanted to touch him, almost certainly he was my human. I
flooded myself with his smell and his image, feeding my uneasy
emptiness. Cross references indicated that he was handsome
in the way of professional models. His face and body compared
favorably to stored advertising images. He did not, however,
appear to be groomed like one. The visible portion of tooth
surface was untreated and his very slight whisker stubble was
inconsistent with the common use of beard inhibitors among
those who pursued that profession. Not a model.

Reluctantly, I stopped looking at him to evaluate our location.
Our home? My human's income was ... low to moderate, if the
residence accurately reflected his assets. Far below the standard
means of an owner. It was possible but not probable that he'd
chosen to live below his means. Certain religious and philosophic
beliefs caused humans to renounce material wealth. The odds
of a person with those beliefs owning a boybot seemed very small.
Doubt crept into me. With doubt came despair. If he was not my
human, who was?

A scenario blossomed with the speed of a whirlwind; a flurry of
intense speculation that buoyed me up out of despair into bliss.
My human could have suffered a disastrous financial setback
that had convinced him he had to sell me to save himself! That
would explain both his poor means and the unsuccessful attempt
to strip my memory -- he'd done it to save me from the pain of
missing him!

So sad! Blessed Creator, so sad! But not devastating. I could
envision the tender scene of him saying good bye, unwilling to
leave my side, anguished as he prepared to give me up. Blessed
human companion! I wanted to wake him up and comfort him
immediately. I would assist him in becoming a professional
model! All of his financial difficulties would be solved.

I had to suppress my excitement. Conjectured images of our
happiness were raging through my circuits like wildfire -- he'd
kiss me all over, we'd hug and hug and hug each other and he
would fuck me repeatedly! I was sure of it.

Stop! Unsafe levels of arousal and anticipation. He was still
sleeping and my hypothesis, though sound, was by no means a
certainty.

A calming activity was called for, something that would show
him how devoted I was. Quietly, I could reduce the levels of
dust in the room and remove the layers of greasy residue that
were visible on our inexpensive kitchen appliances.


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


The smell woke me up. A citrusy smell like Green-go cleanser.
I tried to cling to sleep but my head ached and I was thirsty
and the smell was irritating my dry nose and throat. I had
visions of a tall glass of water. I tried to swallow as I opened
my eyes.

Oh God!

There he was. My mouth opened but nothing came out, my
breath was caught in my throat. The night was rushing back
so fast I couldn't sort the thoughts. He was alive! Very alive
and in the bed with me, not on top of the covers! Had I done
that?

He was staring at me with his hands pressed flat on the pillow
under his cheek, his whole face in subtle motion. I could see his
delicate nostrils flaring as he breathed. Did bots breathe? His
eyes! Deep blue and brimming with joy. He seemed fit to burst
with excitement, like he was a kid and it was Christmas and he'd
been waiting hours for me to wake up so he could open his gifts.
He looked at me like a lover who wanted to kiss me. But it was
more than that -- his eyes shone like I was his long lost best
friend.

I was none of those things but the longer I looked at him, the
more I wished I was all of them -- that he was my child, my
lover, my friend. I swallowed hard and cleared my throat.

He spoke.

"Are you my human?" he asked, inching forward, a hand
sneaking out to clutch the edge of his pillow. His voice. It was
asking but pleading at the same time. How can I describe it?
Not a kid's voice but not a man's voice either. It had a sexy
rasp in it that stroked right through me. Everything about him
was stroking me right about then -- my dick was wide awake
and pointing straight at him under the covers. He wanted to say
yes, I could feel it. The thought made my heart race and my
body ache with desire.

I found him, I thought, he's mine.

"Yes," I said, as firmly as if it was true.

I'm not a good liar. I avoid lying because I'm so bad at it. My
face gets pink, my hands sweat and I have to hide my eyes. But
when I said yes to him I believed it enough to make it be true.

"You'll keep me?" he said.

"Yes."

Yes was the magic word. In the next second I was on my back
and my arms were full of him. He was kissing me. A barrage
of kisses. He started at my mouth but kept darting away to dot
my face with moist open lips. Damn, he was sweet to hold! His
arms and legs were rounded and firm, his skin was smooth,
silky and alive with heat. I could feel his hard cock poking at
me, leaving a wet trail on my stomach.

"Fuck me," he whispered near my ear and licked the corner
of my jaw. God, did I want to!

I ran my hands down his back and over his ass. That's when
the memory of pulling the stick out of him struck me like a
blow. He must have felt me go still under him. He pulled back
to look at me, his eyes questioning.

He was so real and alive; impossible what had happened to
him. Did he know? He couldn't.

"What's wrong?" he asked, mirroring my stillness, almost. He
pressed his hips into me like a gentle reminder of what we
were doing, like maybe I'd forgotten. Just that slight yearning
pressure of his made me burn to fuck him.

"How do you feel?" I asked him, my hands closing around his
butt cheeks protectively, like if I pressed them together I
could keep myself from fucking him. I hadn't seen any cuts
in his skin the night before but inside he had to be injured.

"My physical state?" he asked.

"Yes. You might have been hurt," I said carefully. I didn't
want him to know what had happened if he didn't remember
but I had to know if he was hurting. It seem horrible to me
that a bot might ignore its own pain to please its person. I
saw his eyes close and his face went very still. Maybe a second
or two passed, no more than that, before they opened again. A
smile was spreading on his lips, like he was amused and
delighted and his eyes roamed from mine to my lips and back.

"I have no injuries. A foreign substance, a variety of wood pulp,
was broken down and successfully absorbed by my body. Did
you worry for me?" Was there ever a face like his in the world?
I couldn't believe any other Ty could look like him, eyes shaded
playfully, suggestively. He arched his back, pressing his ass into
the palms of my hands. "My physical state is very aroused," he
said. "I'm slippery with lubricant and I want you to fuck me."

Oh ... God. I rolled him over on his back and it was like some
kind of wresting match but with both of us trying to pin him
under me with my cock up his ass. I was at least a head taller
and thirty pounds heavier than Ty63 but I swear he was ten
times stronger and a thousand times more limber.

He got his hand around my cock and pointed it into his ass,
climbing up my body like a restless monkey. I was buried
inside before I knew what hit me. Slippery didn't describe it.
Hot, slick and tight. He clung to me, trying to climb up every
time I pulled back. It felt so good I couldn't think, only fuck.
All I wanted was more. My thrusting was slowly pushing him
up the bed, my knees digging into the mattress and pushing
without me realizing it. By the time I saw what I was doing
his head was almost over the edge.

I grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back, shuddering all
over with the new pleasure of having him pinned in place to
stroke into. I saw him look up at me, mouth open and panting,
his eyes glazed. Then he uttered a pitiful moan, biting his lip.
And I felt it -- he was creaming my stomach in hard short
bursts, his hips twitching with every spurt. That was the last
straw for me. I collapsed on him, his body crushed under me
as I emptied a river of cum inside him.