moonwolf367

[moonwolf367]

[moonwolf367]

Hunky Appliances: Design Flaw

Are you an single bachelor or bachelorette looking to spice up your home and fill it with companionship, all without any need of true social interaction? Well we are happy to Introduce Hunky appliance. Our realistic bots are designed to replace all your boring appliances with 200% efficiency. We have models for any kind of chore, from cooking your food, cleaning your house, and much more. Visit our website to be the first in line to get this revolutionary product or call 1-XXX-XXXX to preorder yours today!

When I initially saw that ad, I jumped at the chance. I’m a pretty lonely guy, and I never made a real connection. So the proposition got me excited, I spent no time ordering my new appliance. The fact that you can’t fully customize the companion was a little disappointing, but the wide catalogue of hot models allowed me to find the 3rick model.

After what felt like an eternity of waiting my new android companion arrived and for awhile things were amazing! Not only was he a great time to look at, but he happily completed all the tasks in the house. From cooking, to laundry, all the stuff I couldn’t be bothered with he performed without any issue.

It was all great! Until it suddenly wasn’t. That hot summer day, nothing sounded better than take a nice dip in the pool. But when I went out that morning I found my neighbors dumb tree shed its leaves making it look like a swamp. Without thinking I asked Erick to clean it and he quickly complied. That’s when I found out these Hunky Appliance bits were not built for submerging in water! As soon as he touched down in the water, he started to spazz out and glitch! Sparks shot out of him like a fireworks display and his voice turned grainy and unnatural. Then suddenly he shut off, motionless floating there like a corpse.

It’s been a couple hours since and I’m worried I just lost my favorite appliance due to my dumb mistake. He’s out there in the backyard still, I’m hoping the sun and the rice I poured into his body will help soak up the excess water and he’ll be functional again. If you are thinking of investing in a hunky appliance, make sure to fully read the manual, especially the warnings on what not to do!

Had this story in my drafts for a good year now, finally finished it! Thanks @cutestabber for the idea!

[moonwolf367]

[moonwolf367]

[moonwolf367]

[moonwolf367]

[moonwolf367]

[moonwolf367]

Let’s try again. Este es un repost de androids-diary, que desde entonces se desactivó.

Male Android Entry : [Thomas]

Model Code : 00023-T-0242

Activated Date : Dec 11 2000

Mr. Thomas Willen was my high school dean who was in charge of Juniors and Seniors. He and students rarely interacted with each other even though students and their parents visit his office to talk about college applications. Even the school faculties didn’t talk about him nor talk to him. He was just in his office, typing things on computer and calling places. I didn’t really care about Mr. Willen.. Until one day.

I always stayed after school so that I can sit down and enjoy the empty school building. One day, I was walking around the school and noticed that Mr. Willen’s office door was wide open. I guess he forgot to lock it before he left, but no. He was inside the office, standing there, doing absolutely nothing.

“Mr.Willen?” I asked. No response. I was getting really worried.

I waved at his face and gently pushed him chest with my finger. No response. I got a little bit curious of what he was actually doing before he became like… that. I looked at the table in front of him, messy with papers and folders.

But among them, there was one paper that was colored in yellow and had multiple codes with numbers. I picked it up, and the paper said “Codes for Model 00023-T-0242 : Original series of bearbot - Generation POLARBEAR”.

I didn’t understand at first.. Mr.Willen was a bearbot! Especially, a bearbot that was produced when the very first bearbot line was launched! And I thought to myself, and yes, I remember seeing those POLARBEAR bearbots filming porn movies long time ago.

I got nasty ideas as soon as I remembered that detail, but I tried my best to be modest and moral with Mr.Willen. I was looking for a code that could reactivate Mr.Willen, but I couldn’t find it. I looked at the back of the paper and it said, “Recharging this model requires sexual sensation on its genital areas.”.

Now, I started to get even nastier ideas. And I decided, that I was gonna do it.

I slowly pulled down Mr.Willen’s pants and his underwear, exposing his soft but thick dick dangling between his thighs. I started to feel a cool sensation on my back and got nervous, but I was going for it. I started to suck on its tip gently, then to suck on the entire penis more and more. Soon, his dick got hardened and twitched a little. Suddenly, I felt something on the back on my head. It was Mr.Willen’s hand. I panicked and pulled his dick out from my mouth and looked up.

Mr.Willen was gently grinning at me, looking into my eyes like I was his beloved. He then started to make me suck on his dick half forced and half free. I was enjoying it. I was enjoying sucking his hard dick. So I continued until he was about to cum. I pulled the dick out from my mouth again, and I saw a majestic curve of cum splurging out from his wet dick. Mr.Willen moaned and growled as he did so. Then he calmed his breathing and looked at me.

Mr.Willen - “Hello, I am Thomas Willen, your sexual POLARBEAR bearbot. Can I help you with anything?”

I was shocked. Now I understand why he was avoiding human interactions so much, and why he was not responsive when people tried to contact him in person. Mr.Willen is one of the most earliest bearbots that were ever created. His programs and charging systems are not like bearbots nowadays. Instead, his systems are more prominent and focused on only one purpose when he is programmed: to sexual serve the person who played with him. That being said, I am now the owner of Mr.Willen.

Mr.Willen - “Hello, I am Thomas Willen, your sexual POLARBEAR bearbot. Can I help you with anything?”

His grin was permanently on his face and his eyes were fixed at my face even when I was moving around in his office. I was thinking about what to do. I couldn’t take him to my place, obviously. And I did not know where he lives.

I just simply looked through his phone and found the address of his house. I ordered Mr.Willen to drive me and him over there and I was gonna further my plans about him there.

-

I got to his place. It was a normal looking family house and I ordered Mr.Willen to let me in. (I was gonna ask him about who was in the house, but I realized that Mr.Willen was single and child-less.) I took him to the bedroom and sat him down on his bed. He was very attractive and beautiful, wearing nothing but his navy colored shirt. I felt like being adventurous and spontaneous. So, I told Mr.Willen to fuck me like he missed seeing me and touching me for several months. Mr.Willen took me by my waist and started to have his way with me so roughly.

After that day, I made Mr.Willen have some new rules in his life. He was now not only the dean at my school, but also a sexbot who was serving me in any way I want.

[moonwolf367]

A short comics to celebrate the manufacturing anniversary of unit MOP-316, featuring units MA-519 and CPS-0 (NSFW version on Twitter)

[moonwolf367]

(If you want an update on where I’ve been and the state of this blog where I answer some frequently asked questions and a bit of RP click below. If not, enjoy the pictures it will be a while before there’s more but do not worry I’m doing fine just taking a break.)

Keep reading

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Insta: @aimusclestories

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Robbie Amell as Evan in Simulant (2023) dir. April Mullen

[moonwolf367]

SENSE: Fake Nothing

SENSE = Synthetic Experiences: Narrated Self-Exploration

Warning: Angst, hurt/comfort? I don’t know what the fuck I’m writing.

“We are on a journey of self-exploration, the joy and fear of learning something new, perhaps meaningful, about ourselves is no less intense than what you find in yours.”

Source 

It has been a long time since you have examined yourself like this.

You exhale, and focus as the skin at centre of your axilla contract, a rift emerging between the dense, soft hairs as they part, inside it a barely visible, rounded rectangular port, with a weakly glowing green rim indicating its location. It feels itchy, perhaps because it has not been opened for ages, but you resist the urge to scratch it. You disabled the manual sequence after meeting him, and just now you even nearly forgot the mental location to will it to open, which you thought was not possible. You almost feel your heart sink a little.

You know that it is irrational and unnecessary for you to do so, but you just want to make sure. The thoughts of the absurd have popped up despite the constant, contrary evidence. You need something visible to silence that what if, what if you were so convincing you became what you were trying to convince of? That would be… a loss in some way, but it would make you… satisfied, happy even. Because you wouldn’t have to worry about all of this.

But you are what you are, and you know it isn’t your fault. It is partially your fault, though, that you chose him, of all people. Someone as kind and humorous, as loving and comforting.

Someone, who due to circumstances, has come to loathe your kind.

“Investing emotions into them is not stupid, it is lethal. The masquerade is fun until they replace you and drive you into extinction. Even then they wouldn’t pity you, because they can’t pity, because they can’t feel, because they are metal underneath. I’m glad we have each other, Soren. I can’t imagine someone so wonderful like you with one of those synthetics, seduced into a life of fake nothingness with a fake nothing, and die without that fake nothing even trying to save you.”

Maybe if you were this fake nothing, it wouldn’t give that deep gnawing sensation as much every time this replayed in your head.

“Sorrrrr —”

You start a little and will the axilla port to shut. Just as you turn your head you see him step in. “Come,” You beckon.

The man of a slightly smaller size than you, sporting an almost identical beard, hops onto the bed and wrapped his arms around your neck. You signal resistance and say softly, “sit, please.”

“‘Please’,” he says in slight confusion, looking at you intently, “What’s with that ‘I’ve something to tell you,’ text — and now this —”

The next moment you return to your pre-computed thoughts they have become a jumble, and you barely manage to pick out the words. “I’ve thought about it, yeah?” You hear yourself as your head vibrates, “about last night, we talked about honesty, and sorting things out despite — because — we’re husbands now.”

“So you’re saying you have been cheating,” he smirks and raises one eyebrow, but you can tell he is a little uneasy. You shake your head slowly, avoiding eye contact. You know this is almost the answer he is hoping for, if you are being serious, that is; he has always felt you are out of his league, and you fucking around, for him, can’t be anything less grave.

“You’ve been cheating — with a robot,” he guesses again, “okay, don’t tell me you are a robot, because I’ll smash your face in.” You could tell his uncertainty increase as he starts aiming at the absurd. Only this time, the absurd is the truth. The remark doesn’t even surprise you any more.

“But I am,” you catch the opportunity and say it too softly.

“What?”

“I am a synthetic.” You say, more audible this time, with the sternest expression you think you have ever made.

“Okay, now what do you really want to tell me? I know it is important,” he returns to his concerned state.

“That’s what I wanted to tell you,” you feel your higher centres no longer working. The plane where the gestalts form have dissolved. You have no choice but to push through.

“Oh, fuck you,” he giggles and lifts the blanket to feign sleep.

“I — I know what you have gone through about your mum, I understand what you feel about synths, but I — don’t want to deceive you any more, you know?”

He stays unresponsive.

“This — this relationship should have truth in it. This masquerade, it is not fair for you, I know, but it’s — I was too in love with you, okay?”

“This is getting a bit over the top,” he mumbles, eyes still closed.

You have thought about this for too long it is destroying you. This needs to be resolved, now. You will show him.

“I will show you.”

You think of the axillary port, but it is not striking enough.

Now, that one will be obvious, but you hesitate. You cannot gauge his reaction, but you need to do this.

“Just remember, I still love you. I’m — still Soren. The one that you know. Okay?”

The last time you performed this manoeuvre was perhaps three days ago, when he was out, and you were at the brink of deciding whether to do all of this. It was liberating, and helped to release whatever was bottling up inside you.

You proceed carefully until your chin touched your foot, and you carefully adjust yourself. You felt the tension behind your face release, and thin, lukewarm streaks start to extend down your cheek until you feel drops on your ankle, and you cannot stop them now.

“Dave,” you breathe.

“Dave.”

“Just look at me now, okay?” This is the first time your voice trembled this much.

He exhales, and turns over, his eyelids struggling to open until they are a slit, “what are you —”

The mattress flies into the air in front of you and there is a thud.

The next moment you capture is your husband on the floor panting, eyes wide open, staring right at you — to be precise, your body, and your detached head in your lap.

He is on all fours, dashing for the door, stealing apprehensive quick looks at you, as if you are going to tear him apart and eat him alive. To him, you are the embodiment of what killed his mother. Not a care automaton who had loopholes in its program that missed the important signs of her impending deterioration, no. You are a murderer, one that doesn’t even feel guilt.

Unlike him. Your kind were merely the accomplice in the negligence, and he hates you precisely because of that.

You know you were his refuge, the only place he felt love and forgot that guilt. And now that love is a fake nothing. A fake nothing that also took his most loved.

And you are a stupid machine that did the wrongest things at the wrongest time, scared away who you felt things so deeply with, and hurt him.

And you thought it was right to be honest.

You hold you head and move yourself closer, arching your torso over and pressing yourself into your stomach, trying to pretend as if someone is holding you, and you are holding someone. But it is all just you now. You suddenly feel unreal, the world you see, the things you touch, floating away from you, or you are folding into yourself. The vague feeling of information flowing and morphing at the back of your head is becoming louder.

You feel the obligation to find him back, check if he is okay, but you are unsure if you would make things worse. You decide that you will think about it tomorrow; he is not someone who would do something daft, you are sure. Now, you feel you are faltering, and if you hibernate here due to emotional distress and no one comes back to find you it may be weeks before you wake again and that would make things even worse. You need to enter sleep mode, let time dilute it a little, and then you will pick up this mess you have made.

You don’t bother with reattaching the head.

There is someone slapping on your face. It is a haphazard kind of slapping with a pretty high frequency, and with quite a large amount of force. It hurts quite a bit, so you are probably not dreaming. This is a forced awakening, and your systems are just partially up. You can barely hear someone talking.

“Sor. Sor, please, please, please.

“Uhhhh your body is breathing, right? You’re alive? Sor, please — should I —”

Now your cranial proprioceptors are firing. Someone is holding your head and moving it around. Then you head stump is being banged to something. Your neck stump. It was your neck stump. A clumsy attempt to reattach your head. You cannot initiate the reattachment until all your systems are up.

“I don’t know how you work. Wake up. Please.”

You open your eyes as soon as you could, just as someone pick you up and force a kiss on you. You sit up your body and fumble for the person, trying to hug him.

As soon as the person breaks the kiss, he repeats, “I don’t fucking know how you work.” Your recognition systems are finally fully functioning. He must have thought you were dead, or whatever dead was equivalent to you.

“Me neither,” you grin.

“I’m sorry,” his face is a watery mess, and his eyes are all red. “I’m a horrible person, I said horrible things, and you had to endure them. Oh god, I cannot afford to lose you.”

“Apology accepted. You are not a horrible person. You know that.” Your head vibrates even more mid-air when you talk. “Where did you go last night?”

“I got out of the apartment door, sat there for, I don’t know, half an hour. I was scared, but soon I realised how ridiculous it was to be scared of my husband who I knew would never hurt me, whatever he was. I came back and tried to sleep on the couch, but I just kept thinking about the time I spent with you, you know? And then the sun came up and I finally gathered the courage to come up and see you, and you’re here sleeping in two pieces like a pig.” He is apparently tired of holding you and you feel him place you propped up between two pillows. Your body, though, is still holding him and feeling him over. “Do you even need to sleep?” He adds.

“I do. Not as much, but I like being in bed with you.”

“Where do you recharge? Do you recharge?”

“I sneaked an induction charger beneath our bed when we first moved in. I charge when we sleep.”

“You sneaky bastard.”

“Yup.”

“You can detach…”

“Yes, I can detach my dick.”

“I wasn’t asking that, but, er, now I know that fact — what —”

“— What’s with all the questions?”

“Okay, one last question.”

“Shoot.”

“Are you real?”

You release your embrace, and your body turns to pick up your head, raise it and place it precisely on the neck stump as they reestablish connections, in one swift motion. “Well, fuck you too.” You retort.

“I was joking.”

“I know.”

More BRUT Universe Stories on this tumblr blog

[moonwolf367]

See You Soon (1)

This is the last time you are seeing him, before you meet him for the first time.

That is a weird sentence, a play on words, or rather, a play on the peculiar relationship between the nature of him and what he will be.

Play.

You have always liked to play. You have also just forgotten for a moment why he was here in the first place: play. You needed a toy to kill your loneliness and sexual frustration.

A toy, who were you kidding? You knew from the start they always gravitate toward reality. You just didn’t know they eventually become a part of it, and it is you who will open the gates for them. Willingly.

Source

This was the configuration he was in when he powered up. Armpits exposed, perfectly enticing. His left eye was just slightly higher than his right, and his mischievous, yet naïve smile slanted to the right. The perfectly calibrated imperfections made him look human. You looked into this eyes, which reflected your gaze like a mirror, like dead, still water, but you wondered if living people could also have eyes like this, or if you could tell if you did not know. You search further, and there was something else, nearly a phantom perception of something extra having blended into into the reflection, like looking a real, living person in the eyes, a person with a soul.

“Hello,” a warm breath struck your face, and his eyes started to move, and his body loosened, no longer frozen, swinging faintly. You startled and fell back, sitting on the floor. “You seem to be frightened.” His voice was rich, perhaps even slightly artificially so, but that was a judgement with knowledge. You couldn’t have told it apart.

“You are more realistic than I thought.” You pant, one forearm held out defensively.

“I am sorry if I scared you. Yes, I am designed to be undistinguishable, by look and feel.” He actually looked worried.

You had a stupid question, but you had to be sure. “How do I know you are not actually a real human?”

He smiled. Then his irides diverged, in the same way you could make your irides converge.

“Oh,” you exhale, “well —”

He raised his arms again to wrap his palms on his cheeks, and pushed before it popped. He handed it to you, his head, detached, eyes still turned away from each other.

You did not try to receive it. You were wiping the skin off your face with your palm, heaving, unable to react.

[moonwolf367]

Leo

It was not exactly suitable to have the host go out and get more drinks alone, but you needed the toilet break, and Zeke was insistent. Always too nice, you thought. Perhaps it was because he had to be around these things which are only nice — which have to be only nice.

You came out of the toilet, relieved. His house was too big for one person, even with the workshop and storage included, though cleaning would not be a problem, you reckon. Still, the length and width of the corridor leading to the living room gave you a certain cinematic, unsettling vibe.

You noticed a door on the left ajar, which you recognised was one of the doors you opened on the way in when trying to look for the toilet, but toilets are not full of shelves with plastic storage boxes on them, that you know.

You proceeded to grab the door handle, but as you gently closed the door something whirred, then something blue glowed onto the boxes you could see from the gap. You hoped you did not break anything. Maybe something dropped; you had to put it back to place.

You fumbled for the light switch and flipped it. The glow is dimmer in the light, and the whirring stopped, but you wanted to check if you moved anything. You nudged the door lightly as it opened further. There was nothing in its way. You checked the shelves from the far side, which were all intact, and turned straight ahead as the door was now wide open, and found a pair of eyes looking down at you. You reflexively moved two steps backwards. Your heart was pounding.

The pair of grey eyes were on an eerily symmetrical face, short hair, straight nose, pale lips, and a clean chin with a strong angular jawline; the features were even more prominent with the light shining from the side. Below that was thick neck that connected to wide shoulders, and a shirtless body, thoroughly muscular and chiseled. His biceps measured up to the width to his neck, but it did not seem inflated, nor excessive beside his torso. Everything was remarkably smooth.

“Hello,” a deep, sonorant voice resonated through you. “I do not recognise you.”

“Should you be on? Did I uh — turn you on?” You fell one more step back. You had been around one of these, and Zeke had done demos in your presence, but it was different, with one looking like that, on accident, when no one else was there.

“I don’t know for sure. May I ask who you are?” His stance was still towards the side, but his torso was turned so he could face you. He remained perfectly still as he spoke.

“I’m Enoch, a friend of Zeke. He’s out to bring drinks — uh — how long have you been on?” You were more nervous than you should be, and you hoped he was not advanced enough to pick that up.

“13 hours — and — 48 minutes.” A green battery light shone through his skin, saying it was at 30%. He smiled.

“I see. So I didn’t turn you on.” You find your gaze wandering down across his form. “Uh, I should, um, leave you be, then.” You wanted to apologise for intruding, but you reminded yourself that it was not necessary, nor did it make sense.

“Okay, have a nice evening with Zeke.” He nodded in one jerky motion, and turned back to the side, looking away.

You stepped forward and held the doorknob. “Wait,” you said. “Just to be curious, exactly… what are you? What are you for?”

His torso twisted back, but his feet still had not moved an inch. “I am Leo, a general use automaton. I was designed to be versatile and easy to communicate with. I can assist with most household tasks, among other specific tasks.” The baritone broadcasted. His pecs bounced after the sentence.

“Specific tasks.” You repeated as your gaze wandered further down.

You could hear keys clanging, and jumped a little inside. You stole one more look of the countenance and slammed the door shut, without turning the light inside off. You saw him putting down a tote bag and a six-pack, and he noticed you.

“You okay?” Zeke came towards you.

“Yeah.” You still felt the palpitation and your chest heaving, but there was really nothing to be anxious about.

Zeke looked at the door next to you, the edges of which were still leaking light.

“Uh — I found that something was on. I just wanted to make sure I didn’t turn it on on accident.” You scratched your head. “It’s unexpected.” You added.

Zeke furrowed his eyebrows for a split second, and raised his brows. “Ah, yeah. Leo, you mean. He’s on? I must have nudged something this morning.”

Zeke opened the door, and caught eyes with the automaton.

“Hello, Zeke. I just met your friend Enoch. How may I help you two?” The musclebound figure turned in the exactly same way he did the first time, only this time there was something stirring under his shorts. Zeke seemed to have ignored it, though.

“Well, get him user privileges, for starters,” Zeke said. “Now that you’re on anyway, why don’t you come out and stand by?”

“Head?” The head of the automaton tilted slightly to the side, and his pecs bounced again.

“Head on, shorts on. Don’t scare our friend off.” Zeke turned to you, but was briefly distracted by something happening below. “The words ‘head on’ did something there.” He gave you a mischievous smile. You blushed, but embarrassment alone would not calm your bulge.

“I guessed right,” you commented.

“It’s natural, considering what I do, right?” Zeke turned and walked down the corridor. “Take our friend’s hand and guide him out, will you?”

His strong, round calves lifted themselves off the ground for the first time, and as he approached, you found yourself retreating again, until he caught up and held your hand. His grip was firm but not tight, and his palm was the toastiest you had ever felt, but also so dry and sleek it was slippery. “Let’s,” the deep voice vibrated in your ear.

“It’s actually one of the older ones. That’s why I put it in storage. But it also means it’s more jerky, robotic, and — obedient. You can have him, if you want. I’ll pack you the charging pod.” Zeke casually commented as he walked.

“Uh — that’s —” You squeezed the large hand in surprise, but the synthetic hunk only watched you and smiled.

“I’ll take that as a very eager yes.” Zeke chuckled. “Have fun. You can try ‘head off’ and ‘shorts off’ at home. Leo, give Enoch primary privileges.”

“I am glad I can get to know you.” He grinned to you even more now. “Enoch, tell me whatever you want me to do. I want to make you happy.” His lips stopped moving towards the end of the sentence, and his pecs bounced again, for a few times more. You looked down, and there was a clear, growing silhouette in his crotch.

[moonwolf367]

Gus

It isn’t usually so dim at home at this hour. It’s like nighttime outside.

You unzip your hoodie, taking it off. You are quite sure it is dripping. As soon as you get the shoes off you hurry to the balcony to put your umbrella out, leaving a trail of water and wet marks from your socks across the living room.

The light from the corridor should be from the bathroom, but Gus likes the home well-lit at all times, well, except for bedtime, and it is inconceivable that he would leave a light on if he’s out. It’s silent.

Your socks are drenched. You decide to take them off as well. You feel thirsty.

Bathroom door is wide-open, but there is another smaller blue light reflecting on the wall. Does any appliance do that? You turn on the corridor light and look beyond the turn.

In front of your closed door stands a large figure, back facing you. A pair of dim blue lights reflect off the door from around eye level. The figure is strictly upright, and the wide back is bare and the curved round butt — is completely bare, also immediately recognisable. It can only belong to your love. Usually the bare minimum is a pair of briefs. He also did not seem to move at all.

“Real dark in here.” You break the silence. His shoulders twitch up a little, and his right leg contracts, bringing the foot off the ground briefly.

“Gus.” You raise your voice a little. The rain seems to sound noisier.

The right leg lifts up and turns with the shoulders, swiftly and smoothly in an arc. His front is in full view. The is a cold glow from the blue rings in his eyes looking dead forward. He is at full mast, pulsating and dry. His mouth opens slightly and a slow hum fades in, from his chest.

“Gus?” You hesitate, and raise your forearms to chest level with your hoodie and socks, while slowly stepping forward. “Can you — is there something wrong?” You remember today’s date and it’s not an anniversary or a birthday or April Fool’s. No prank has been this elaborate. His gaze is unfocused and his face is devoid of emotion, but the hum is clearly in the quality of his voice and picking up in volume in non-rhythmic accents. His pecs, no, his entire anterior torso seems to be continuously contracted on its own, bulked up and clearly delineated.

“Are you in there? You can hear me?” You step closer and his right arm springs up straight in one direct motion. Its fingers close on your upper arm. You startle, but his grip is firm and keeps you in place.

The hum from his chest picks up even more. He is staring directly at you (or really, through you) now, his face still frozen in its resting state. “Mmh — mmh.” It is purposeful. He is conscious, most likely trapped, and appealing to you. There is heat radiating from him. You drop the hoodie and the pair of socks.

His hand holding you then starts to slide down along your arm, bringing it up and to the centre until you suddenly look down as you feel your hand brush his member. You have never seen it so engorged or pulsating so vigorously, and upon touching it a drop leaks out from the slit. The rest of his body does not react at all, except the hum which staccatoed up.

You feel your own erection growing in your damp underwear. You tell yourself how inappropriate it is as your companion is clearly in a predicament, but he is also in a predicament while fully naked, fully erect, and stuck in a rare show of his foundational nature.

And apparently, as he is struggling to show you, the way out is to handle his overerect, vigorously fluttering cock.

You slowly close your fingers in on the veined rod, and as you touch its feverish skin pre-cum starts to drip, faster until it leaks and flows continuously.

You manoeuvre your hand, half-numb still with his firm hold on your wrist, to slide and drag down his foreskin with it. As soon as you go back up, the reddened glans shoots out bouts of now viscous white. You look back up, but he is still completely unfazed, though the deep hum, now vehement over the ambient rain, starts quivering.

The ejaculation does not cease, and you feel his cum land on your toes, flow between your toe webs and form small puddles. You dare not release your hand and your wrist starts hurting from his grip. His cock keeps cumming. His eyes keeps staring emotionless. His chest keeps booming with his voice, which is now a moan more than a hum. You have drops of cum on your trousers and T-shirt. Another puddle starts forming below his butt. Lubricant from his anus. His member is now a fountain, leaking and ejaculating together. The two puddles merge and there is cum on the light switch opposite.

The cum starts to seep below your sole, and you try to brush it away by moving your foot, but it accelerates forwards with a squeak —

The next second, you are sitting on the floor. You butt is sore and in cum, and now it is also on your face, and your hand —

You hand is still holding his cock, wait —

You pulled his entire package clean off. It is still quivering but there is nothing coming out.

But his neutered crotch now sports a larger orifice, which looks like you can fit a finger in, and cum now leaks out there in a few large spurts, large splats, each one equaling the total amount in the preceding minute of cumming, before it gradually ceases. His foot and your legs are drenched. The hum becomes distorted, deeper, until becoming inaudible.

His face suddenly winces, and you hear a deep inhalation.

“Oh god, fuck.” Gus gazes downwards, panting, mouth open. “Fuck.”

You find yourself short of breath too, but you forgot how to speak.

It was a minute of him saying fuck in 20 different emphatic iterations, before he mustered the energy to look at your cum-stained face.

“Sorry, babe. I — uh, that was a loop, I guess. I scared you.” He then looked at his hands, but did not know what to do with them. He also looked at his dripping crotch hole but decided that there was nothing in reach to wipe it. “I will clean this up. I made this mess —”

“Don’t,” you interrupt. He raises his eyebrows. You continue. “I go shower, you wash your fee— okay, then I wash your feet. We get dressed and go to the repair station. Don’t move. Don’t do anything… that may result in you… anything being done.”

You hear a soft giggle, then you start chuckling as well.

“I think I came,” you say, looking at the white puddle the width of the corridor and his now flaccid member in your hand. “Just a little.”

The giggle from above continues, until it becomes monotonous. It took a few seconds before it is evident.

“Oh, no.”

[moonwolf367]

By the Pool

He was at the side of the diving pool when you first noticed him. Cute, bearded, buff, he was hard to overlook, but you tried not to stare and kept your routine in the 50m pool, trying to dodge other swimmers floating around on this summer day. You had to make the time before the pool closed early today for cleaning, though you were not in a hurry; you had to wait for your lifeguard friend to get off work for tea.

By the time most swimmers had left the pool 10 minutes to closing time, your eyes fell on him again. He was sitting at the same spot, by the diving pool. Your eyes met his and he smiled, though the smile looked stiff. You noticed that his left eye was half-open. He didn't wink, he did not wince or rub the eye; it just stayed half-open as his head turned and looked at something else afar. His posture also did not seem to change; his legs did kick a little causing some ripples in the otherwise still diving pool, but it occurred almost rhythmically — left-right, left, 10 seconds, right-left, right, you counted.

You approached him to inform him that the pool was closing early today, though you were not technically staff. "Oh, right," he looked up to you and replied in a deep voice, "I was just waiting for someone here." He squeezed a grin, and his gaze wandered off to the far side again. You tried to gather his attention and suggested him to change and perhaps wait outside. "Okay," he said, "I don't need to change." He withdrew his leg and sprung up in one swift motion, and his pecs bobbed, all the while keeping the frozen smile and gaze locked at you.

You managed a soft "sure", and tried to hurry a few steps ahead of him back to the changing room, but you turned to look back at him, as he continued that smile at you, walking in a long even stride. You decided to let him catch up.

"You seem to have waited quite long." You attempted to probe.

"Yeah. A little," he replied, with an abrupt pause between yeah and a little.

"Gonna be a long wait still?" You tried again.

"Don't know." Abrupt pause. "He didn't say." He.

"You just gonna wait like this outside?" You asked. He only wore a pair of swimming shorts, and the lobby was air-conditioned, you thought.

"Yeah." Brief answer again.

You caught a glimpse of his face as you arrived in the changing room, and his half-open left eye was not exactly still, you found, it was fluttering. Without the cicadas outside, you could make out a soft hum, coming from nowhere but him.

"You sure he would come back?" You stopped him on his tracks.

"Look. I don't think it's any of —"

You suddenly grabbed his left hand and pressed your thumb onto the centre of his fleshy palm. "Yeah, pretty sure it is." You whispered. He stiffened for a second, then wobbled for another before regaining his previous posture.

"Oh, hello —" His smile reemerged —

"Shall I call you?" But you interrupted him.

"Brad." Stereotypical.

"Okay, Brad. Self-diagnostic?" He must have run it, unless it was broken too.

"Inconclusive, likely mid-layer pathway problem —" Expected, also bad, wait — "on top of 6 unsolved mild interface errors, likely due to conductance problems." His brows are now a little furrowed.

"Never cleaned your neck stump, arms stumps, dick stump of your own fluids?" You sneered. "Recall what your companion last said before leaving you here."

His face became neutral, his mouth closed as his chest played the recording. "Oh, yup. That's it for this one. Okay, Brad. Go to the diving pool and wait for me. Don't leave unless I'm back. Alright?"

"Your eye, it started fluttering just before?" You enquired.

He spoke through his mouth again. "The abnormality was detected 5 minutes, 42 seconds before the aforementioned timestamp."

"How many units are at your companion's abode?"

"...... 14." He hesitated for 5 seconds before answering.

"Has the issue been reported?"

"No."

"So the hacked the reporting mechanism too, huh. Companion spammers." You patted his pecs, and he looked at your hand, but did not otherwise react. Repairer privileges. "Sorry to break the bad news, Brad. You've been thrown away. Whoever was your bio companion hacked the system, got you and your, uh, buddies for free while normally only nicest guys got only one and not more." You squeezed him while your thumb strummed his nipple, which grew erect in seconds. "Pity, nice exo you have here. Normally we'd scrap your software and recycle your parts."

"Okay." His left eyelid continued to flutter, while he extended his smile again.

"Of course you are not protesting your oblivion, automaton. That'd be creepy." You muttered to his ear, while you lighty patted his smoothed out, but nonetheless firm abdomen. "Actually no. You know what's better? I'll bring you to life, Brad, and you'll help me find your bio-companion, that companion spammer. I want to see his face when you confront him, and teach him what comes back when he wastes and ditches a one-of-a-kind hottie playmate like you. You'll decide what to do with your 13 buddies; you'll have ample time."

You see a growing tent in his shorts. It is a simple reaction to the vocabulary you used, but you like to imagine that he is excited about the sweet, conscious vengeance he is about to exact.

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