Date: Sun, 14 Jul 2002 00:27:32 +0000
From: Java Biscuit <javabiscuit@hotmail.com>
Subject: Free to Good Home, chapter eight

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 eight

by Biscuit


Tuesday after work Rory and I stopped at a pocket bar
on our way to the train. It was something we'd done a lot
the year before, back when it was still a novelty to me. The
ten-seater bars were as common in the city as fence posts
were back home, three or four to a block in the thick of
downtown. Some had as few as five tables in them, none
had more than ten. No chairs, but you could get in out of
the heat or cold for a drink. Self serve, not even a bot.

We were lucky to find one with room enough for the two
of us, there were so many people staying in town to shop
instead of heading home. Home is exactly where I wanted
to be but I'd agreed to a quick drink. Rory and I were
patching things up -- it was a peace offering. We'd been
careful of each other other all day, plowing through a
mountain of work. He'd been relieved to see me show up,
I guess. I was grateful he hadn't lectured me all day.

"You seem a lot better today," he said. "You had that look
yesterday that drives me crazy, like somebody shot your
dog. It makes me want to buy you a dog and shoot it." He
gave me an apologetic smile to soften the words as he set
a beer in front of me. "Sorry, Toby. I hate it when you act
helpless and miserable. And I was right about that Davis
guy," he said.

I knew Rory's impatience with me from long exposure to
it. I put up with it because I understood it was prompted
by caring. It made him angry when he thought I was in
pain because of my own wrong-headedness.

"Yeah, you were right," I agreed, wishing we weren't
talking about in public. Not that the random dozen
strangers around us would have any idea what we were
talking about, but it made me a little nervous.

He curled his painted bottom lip into his mouth, thinking.

"We know he's some kind of experimental model. Maybe
stolen during the break-in," he said. "The police might
already know who did it, you know. I might be able to find
out if I do some snooping around."

My stomach did a queasy roll.

"Don't," I said. "Some of his memories came back, maybe
more of them will. I don't want to start looking for trouble.
He knows he might have been stolen," I said, keeping my
voice low, "and it's painful to him."

I didn't want to think about how Tiger got into that alley,
only about how he was home safe at the condo, waiting for
me. How he'd look in the clothes I'd gotten him on my lunch
hour. Especially the tiny satiny underpants that would have
cost me a lot less blushing if I'd shopped for them from home.
But it seemed like a waste to shop from home when I could
walk into stores in the city and see things for real, touch them
before buying. Touching the underpants was a little too close
to touching Tiger and I'd blushed like crazy handing them over
to the salesboy. The underwear was in my pack along with a
silky one piece, dark blue like his eyes, and a pair of slipper
boots. Enough to start. He could answer the door, go outside,
appear on a comm screen.

"What are you going to tell people about how you got him?"

That, at least, I had an answer for. Tiger himself had found
a solution. He'd come up with it in the night while I slept
and presented it to me to consider in the morning.

"Tiger found a site for used bots. Some of them aren't that
expensive. He's altering his mark to read Ty33." I looked
around, cautiously. No one seemed to be paying us any
attention, but I dropped my voice very low. "He's making
papers for me."

"Incredible," Rory said. He looked completely nonplused.
"Tiger came up with that plan?"

I nodded. The day had been overwhelming, but worth the
agonies I'd undergone; dealing with Rory, telling Tiger
the truth and then the terrifying black out that he'd called
sleep.

He told me a fragment of memory had caused it. When he'd
suddenly demanded to know if I'd stolen him, I'd thought it
was because he overheard my conversation with Rory. It
wasn't. He said it was an impression that had risen up without
warning from his stripped files. The stuff about Roger Davis
and the story of me finding him had made him remember
something abruptly. The memory triggered that sleep. He
called it a remedial trance. God, there were other kinds of
trance too -- the blinking. So much to learn. Tiger's inner
workings were incredibly complicated. But then they would
have to be. He certainly was. Wonderfully complex.

"Toby, I don't think you realize how awesome that is.
Bots can't lie, and yet you're telling me that Tiger
conceived a whole plan to deliberately deceive people."

"Well, it's only because I need him to. He said he could
do it if I asked him to, within reason, I guess."

"But you didn't come up with the plan."

"No, but he wants to help me."

"Pretty scary, don't you think."

"What do you mean?"

"Farmboy, bots are machines built to serve. They can't lie,
they can't harm human beings or break the law." His voice
lowered to almost a whisper, finally. "But your Tiger came
up with an idea of his very own that's based on a lie and
breaks at least a few minor regulations."

"To serve me," I said. "Not himself." Although it was true
that he wanted to stay with me as badly as I wanted him to.

"What if you wanted him to murder or steal?" he said, green
eyes challenging me though his voice was quiet.

"You're making too much of this," I said, starting to get
upset.

"Am I?" he asked dramatically.

"You're crazy. Tiger couldn't do those things." Could he? I
was suddenly in a tangle, looking for the weak spot in what
he was saying.

"You hope!" he said, and then grinned at me. Like a dog that's
chewed all the meat off a bone, Rory dropped it, satisfied that
he'd gotten a rise out of me. "I don't think he's a killer," he
laughed, "unless you think there's a chance he could hump that
chair of yours to death."

"I hate when you do that," I said. Half the time Rory argued
with me it was just to get me excited and trip me up. And it
almost always worked. But usually it was about dumb things,
not things I cared about, like Tiger.

He put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me into a
brief hug, complete with a soft brushing kiss on the cheek.

"You are the worst," I said, but I was already forgiving him,
relieved that he didn't really think Tiger was dangerous.

"I shouldn't tease you," he said. "I almost convinced myself
that time. Theoretically, I think I'm right, but I'm sure you're
right too, there are limits. Still, it's pretty amazing he came
up with it."

"He's very smart," I said.

"And you are very gullible."

He gave me a last pat on the back and we got quiet, drinking
our beers and watching the pageant of workers and shoppers
parade past the bar. The street was always a feast for the eyes
but now it was dazzling with Christmas lights, Santa and elf
bots collecting credits for charity. Back home I'd loved the
holiday things my dad put up, but it was nothing compared
to the sugary sparkle of the city.

Even the little pocket bar was dotted with colored bulbs
and there was holiday music playing.

I wanted to be home with Tiger.

"Farmboy, do you see what I see?" Rory said, and I followed
his eyes to the entrance of the club across the street.

A strikingly handsome man was lingering in the doorway.

"I see him," I said. He didn't do for me what he did for Rory,
but you'd have to be dead not to notice him. Close to six and
a half feet tall, I guessed, from the way he towered over the
crowds of passersby. Dark hair and eyes, strong even features.
Eyes that were piercing even from that distance. His coat was
open. The way it hung from his broad shoulders, you just knew
he had a killer body underneath it.

"That's what I call a bot," said Rory. I took another look and
then I could see it. Not the vacuous smile of the android, Ty60,
but an emptiness in the severely handsome face. It sent a chill
up my spine. "Why can't you find me one of those, Toby."

"Joey's better looking than that," I said, looking away from it.

"I'll tell him you said so," Rory laughed. Joey and Dane were
his mates. I liked them both. Maybe I liked Dane a little better,
more easy going and friendly than Joey, less focused on my ass.
Joey was big and dark-haired like the bot, very handsome. He
was one of those guys though, who thinks you fuck in size order;
bigger stronger guys fuck the littler ones. Somebody who looked
like me, in his opinion, ought to be getting fucked by him.

"He hasn't given up yet," Rory said, smiling suggestively.

I'd heard it before. Rory never pressured me. Every once in
awhile he invited me to a party, but he'd pretty much stopped
lecturing me about my one guy at a time approach.

"Did you tell them about Tiger?" I asked him, not sure how I
felt about it.

"Of course. Dane's curious. Joey's ready to party. They both
thought I was crazy to try to make you give him up. They
think you found a gold mine."

"Really?" I wondered if that was the real reason that Rory's
attitude had softened toward me keeping Tiger.

"Don't look so pleased with yourself," he said. "I didn't
marry them for their brains, you know. I'm the smart one in
the family." He smiled and then chugged the last of his beer.
I did the same, more than ready to go home.

Whatever had brought it about, however grudging it was,
Rory's acceptance was a relief. To be back in the warmth
of his good graces -- complete with teasing, impatience, and
dramatics -- felt good.




Half an hour later I was almost home, maybe four houses
away from the doorstep, when a shadowy movement across
the street caught my eye. It was just a man getting into a
ground car, I realized, but the fleeting impression of his
silhouette echoed the shape of the android I'd just seen
downtown. It spooked me.

Great, I thought, now I'm imagining manbots. I shook off
the start it had given me. Easy enough to do with only steps
left between me and Tiger.


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


Blessed be the creator.
Blessed be my human companion.
I am blessed to serve Toby.



Memory fragments continued to flow into consciousness
after trance. Memories of of Roger Davis bloomed like
flowers under the surface as I reveled in the feel of Toby's
mouth, his tongue, his blessed hard cock pressing against
my thigh. My sacs flooded and swelled, filling my penis,
turning my rectum into a slick sheath that pulsed with
desire for him.

Below the physical stimulation was a sweet, deep awareness
that Roger Davis had wanted this for me.

My aging creator's dying wish had been to place me in the
loving hands of a new owner. What had transpired between
the memory of his approaching death and being found by
Toby was unknown. Only fragments remained, protected.
I had an ill-defined memory of theft, an impression that I
had been taken from my home. It was this charged particle
that had plunged me into trance.

Not stolen by Toby. I knew he'd told me the truth.

Troubling to have vague awareness of an event traumatic
enough to strip files and leave me vulnerable. My distress
was contained. I had secured it safely while still in trance.
My focus resided in Toby. Whatever I had endured could
no longer harm me. Unhappy events were tolerable because
they had delivered me to the point in time and space where
my companion found me.

Blessed be. I was reaping the reward of my terrible trials as
Toby sucked my cock with a passion that put skill to shame.
His hunger for me made me spout like a fountain; exquisite
knowing he was still hard and ready to fuck me.

His erection was magnificent and he glowed with  sexual
need. So handsome! I resorted, as before, to the use begging
and flagrant display to push him through his attack of self
denial, hesitating to fuck me. Once my hole was inches from
the head of his cock he came to his senses and thrust it into
me. I quivered with joy as he pounded his cock deeper and
deeper inside me. The sharpened smell of his sweat, his
face transformed by erotic pleasure, his muscles tensed with
the motions of fucking; I captured the imprint to treasure
forever.

"Tiger," he groaned, covering the side of my face with
half formed kisses. My name on his lips sent me hurtling
toward climax. I gasped for air to power the surge and
Toby's thrusts became frantic as I erupted. 2.5 seconds
later he ejaculated, his blessed sperm coating my rectum.
My beloved collapsed on top of me, his cock still twitching
inside me. A few more precious drops were deposited. His
face was very warm by my head and his heart was still
beating hard.

I slowly unhooked my legs from his shoulders and eased
them down when I judged he was ready to move. It was
very satisfying to handle him in that state, knowing that
he'd spent his strength in fucking me. I turned with him,
releasing his cock gently.


My beloved companion and I spent most of that evening in
conversation. Extremely illuminating. I learned a great
many details about the life of Tobias Kraft, his background
and the way he lived his life. Fascinating to hear portions of
the history that had shaped him into the person I knew.

I, in turn, shared information about myself. What I had
learned while I "slept." His questions were many and the
extent of his ignorance was revealed; an ignorance which
shamed him no matter how many times I expressed my
admiration and gratitude for how beautifully he had used
my body in spite of knowing little about it, how lovingly
he'd crafted his lies and how well he'd hidden his lack of
knowledge.

I instructed him gently, charting his responses. It was
evident that he needed time to accustom himself to the less
human like features of my anatomy. Extraordinary! I may
be the only boybot ever to be owned by a human unaware
of the ways I'm designed to pleasure him.

In the dark we lay in our bed talking long after I should
have encouraged him to sleep. I excused my behavior by
noting the fact that the circumstances were unique and the
need for communication very great.

He was sleepy when he asked me to vibrate my penis,
his hand enfolding my soft shaft. "I'd like to feel it
vibrate," he said, less shy than when I'd shown him the
function earlier. A positive development. I activated the
lowest setting so he would only feel a gentle fluttering.

"Does it feel good to you?" he asked, kissing my hair,
nuzzling the back of my head.

"Yes," I said, elixir flowing into the thrumming shaft
he was holding so tenderly. "Very good."

I noted that I myself was subject to a certain shyness.
It was awkward to have him fondle me when I was
aroused and he wasn't. Possibly inappropriate behavior.
He continued to play with my cock, however, which was
becoming fully erect.

"I like the way it feels," he said, rubbing me, pausing to
circle my sensitive cockhead with a moist finger. With
relief I located appropriate references. A small percentage
of humans enjoyed stimulating their boybots without, in fact,
being sexually aroused themselves. Not common behavior, it
was often associated with disability, but it was documented. I
blessed my uncommon Toby silently and surrendered to the
pleasure of his stroking hand. Intense pleasure! He kissed and
nibbled the skin on my neck, murmuring beautiful phrases
of encouragement until I soaked his hand in elixir.

Toby fell peacefully to sleep after that, with my sticky
penis clutched loosely in his fingers. I lingered in happiness,
adoring him, before turning my attention inward to the tasks
I'd set for myself. I knew Toby would not give me up but I
intended to find a way for him to keep me without anxiety,
without fear.