BY : attackegg
Category: Original - Misc > -Slash - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 20449
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, not based on anything but my own mind. Any semblance to people or work you may know is coincidental and not intended.

This was originally thought up as a way to practice writing sex scenes. Those take me forever, and I will aim to have one in every update, so I won't promise it'll be quick.

But it'll be sweet. None of the mindfuck that is Return Ticket To Stockholm, I promise! :D

Story tags will be assigned to the individual chapters, because of the whole roleplaying thing.







His first thought had been to invest the money- to stow it away in some fund that offered a good balance between interest and security. But the longer he thought about it, the more he thought he deserved a little treat.

Finn poured another glass of celebratory wine and agreed with himself- while he wasn't exactly loaded, he had a good job, and his nest egg was coming along nicely -very nicely, in fact, so did he really need to obsess over the proverbial rainy day that, for him, wasn't even likely to come? The house was tiny, but it was nearly paid off; the bills were minimal; the job had been so custom-tailored to suit his skills that firing him would have been plain bad business. Still, the thought of just blowing all that money on something frivolous, as fun as it sounded, left him feeling vaguely guilty.

Seven. Hundred. Thousand. Dollars.

His father had, apparently, died recently. This was nothing for Finn to cry about because he'd hardly known the man, accident that he was; had only met him once or twice many years ago. It seemed that on his death bed the guy had spared one last thought for his bastard child and included him in the will. One last $700,000 thought. Finn had never cared enough to harbor any sort of hurt, but he was willing to forgive every potential, hypothetical grudge for that sort of money; who wasn't?

In the end, he struck himself a deal: he would pay off the house, put a decent sum into a good savings account, and spend half a million dollars on something he didn't need. Half a million. Half a million. No matter what his Mom thought about it, bless that man.

He knew what he wanted, too.

Finn was going to buy himself a robot.



Not just any robot, he marveled as he sat down in the lobby of CyberBio, Inc. not two weeks later- no, a humanoid. An AI. Something that breathed and talked and, hopefully, laughed; something that looked and acted like a real person. At least mostly. The leaflets lying around made it seem as if these things might as well be people, but Finn knew better than to believe everything -or, really, anything- that was said by marketing departments. Maybe these AIs were really robotic; who knew what their voice sounded like; it was possible they felt and looked like rubber- and in that case, he didn't think he would want one. But that was why he was here, wasn't it? To find out.

"Mister Mallory? Pleased to meet you."

Finn had always wondered what sort of people were involved in this sort of business -bioengineering, fucking around with genetic material, getting ahead of nature- and somehow imagined them to be either dodgy or insane, but the man who had just stepped through the door and introduced himself as Mr. Quincy was neither. He was middle-aged and seemed approachable enough, wearing a discreet suit- dressed to sell rather than to impress. As he followed the man down a tastefully decorated hallway, Finn wondered instead what sort of customers this guy met and what he thought of them.

"Would you like a coffee? Anything else?" the man asked once Finn had made himself at home in one of the large leather chairs. "No? Well, don't hesitate to ask." He made one for himself and sat down on the other side of the coffee table, and not for the first time Finn was amazed at how different it was to do business in this price range.

"So, Mister Mallory... you have expressed interest in making a purchase. What, exactly, did you have in mind?"

"I'll be blunt," he said, because he couldn't be asked to do the song and dance of negotiations- it was bad enough to negotiate the budget at work, and this was supposed to be fun. "My upper limit is five hundred grand. Can I get something decent with that?"

"Absolutely," Mr. Quincy responded confidently. "If we're being blunt- we do have some models that, in my opinion, aren't worth the money. If you only want to spend one or two hundred, I think you'd be better off not buying at all. But once we get into the range of..." he tilted his head, thinking- "maybe two-fifty or three, we definitely have some products I'm convinced you'll be very happy with."

Products, Finn thought. Products that were said to look and behave exactly like people. It was definitely a little weird... and also strangely exciting.

He nodded. "So, let's say, uh.... something in the range of three to five hundred?"

"No problem at all. And what is it that you're looking for- what will be its purpose, what appearance would you like, that sort of thing-?"

"I travel a lot, and I would like to take it with me, so languages would be helpful. Also some basic office skills." He hesitated, but Mr. Quincy probably heard stranger things than this on a regular basis. "...but mostly for sex."

As expected, the salesman was unfazed. "In that case, would you prefer male or female?"

"...For curiosity's sake, can I see both?"

"Of course." Mr. Quincy got up and took his coffee over to the desk, where he entered several things into a computer and then looked up to ask- "Any preference as to their looks?"

"I... if they didn't look like they could be my parents, that would be nice. No offense."

"None taken." The older man grinned. "Looking to be under thirty, maybe? Okay. Skin color? Body shape? Anything?" When Finn shook his head the mouse clicked a couple more times and then stopped. "All the models that fit your criteria will be brought to a show room. Shall we?"

The 'models' were already there by the time they arrived at the show room- entirely human-looking creatures standing around in a semi-orderly fashion, maybe two dozen of them varying greatly in size and looks but all wearing something that looked like white hospital scrubs, and holding a tag... moving only in the sense that they breathed and blinked their eyes, except for one that coughed occasionally. It was a little creepy, no lie.

"They look... completely real," Finn finally breathed and stepped closer to look at a dark-skinned girl with slanted eyes, a strange but interesting mix- and she looked back at him blankly and then seemed to lose interest.

"Yes, well, they are," the other man explained. "These are human bodies, grown around... well, to put it in layman's terms, grown around a computer."

"Human bodies?" Finn was both appalled and fascinated. "Where do you get those?"

"Stem cells! They are amazing things- we remove the original DNA and replace it with a strain written in our labs, and the cell will take it from there."

"So these weren't-"

"These were never going to be human babies, no."

Relieved, he wandered between them, tall and short, skinny and curvy, most of them with intense eye colors -to which Mr. Quincy said that there was no sense in making them boring if you were writing DNA anyway- but although he admired quite a few of them he kept coming back to the same one.

...And what a disturbing choice it was. The young boy appeared to be no more than twelve, for God's sake. Of course, age was a meaningless concept when it came to robots, but... he just couldn't see himself fucking something that looked like a middle schooler.

The little thing was cute enough other than that; small and fairly slender, something that Finn -all bones and gangly limbs himself- liked in people and apparently also in robots, with softly tanned skin and deep blue eyes in a round face and... well, the hair was a little weird. It was basically dark brown, although Finn's sister might have had a more complicated description for it, but in some places, where the light hit it, there seemed to be a hint of copper- more of it towards the back of the head.

"Yes," Mr. Quincy said wistfully when he noticed the focus of Finn's attention, "his hair. It wasn't planned this way, but, well...  writing DNA can yield unexpected results sometimes. He has no body hair, you know? Not even fuzz. And by this point we don't think it's going to grow in anymore, either."

"What do you mean, not even fuzz?"

"See for yourself."

Dark blue eyes looked up at Finn when he touched the boy's arm, watched him without emotion, creepy and gorgeous at the same time. That was just as true for his skin- it was completely smooth, as smooth as Finn was in a few select places only- the inside of his wrists, maybe; or the underside of his upper arm. The boy-thing felt like a baby. And yet his skin was warm and dry and completely human... pleasant to the touch.

Perking up when Finn didn't shy away and lost himself in those empty eyes instead, Mr. Quincy took the tag from the boy's hands and read it. "Tell you what. You seem to like this one- he's four-fifty, you can have him for four. Because of the hair problem."

"Really? Surely someone has a fetish for that and will pay double."

"Yes," the man said a little stiffly, "between that and his looks I'm sure there's a target demographic. I just have a hard time advertising to pedophiles."

...Yeah, that. The offer was tempting: not only was the thing cute -and those eyes were incredible-, it was also well under the price limit he'd set for himself; he could put another fifty or sixty grand into savings, treat himself to something else and feel good about his nest egg; but... well... middle schooler.

"He is awfully young. ...-looking." A thought struck him, leaving him hopeful. "Is... can you do something about that?"

"Hmm, well." The fact that the answer wasn't an outright 'no' was encouraging. "We... we can temporarily accelerate the aging process. The problem is... because it can't be reversed, it counts as a customization- not a very expensive one, but you would have to sign first, you see? And you won't be able to return him if you don't like the result."

The eyes wouldn't change, would they? And neither would the skin color, nor the overall body type. Finn decided he wasn't worried about it.

"Excellent," the man said when Finn told him as much, "how soon do you need him? Or, more to the point, what age would you like?"

"I am going on a business trip on the fourth- I was hoping to have company by then. I couldn't get a direct flight on the way home and eleven hours travel time can get pretty long without someone to talk to, you know?" It was a couple of weeks until then, but not much. "Can you... I don't know, make him look legal?"

"Hmm," the man said again and looked at the tag in his hands. "P3z-800, boot up."

"I am," the boy said, startling Finn.

"Oh, right." With an apologetic glance, Mr. Quincy cleared his throat. "The newer models don't shut down anymore. I keep forgetting that, shame on me."

"They don't shut down?"

"Not in the sense that a computer would. Instead, they sleep." The man turned to the AI. "How many days until the fourth of next month?"

"Twenty-three, not counting today or the fourth," the boy-thing responded.

"In that case... you'll hardly want to pick him up on your way to the airport, so... a young legal, yes."


He was going to pick the little thing up in three weeks, Finn mused as he got in the car and buckled up. Three weeks to the day, and he would have the sort of company his job always prevented him from having.

The thought made him a little hard.





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