index


Message-ID: <29572asstr$985594203@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: cyberczar@freedom.net
Content-Type: text/plain; charset = "iso-8859-1" 
Old-From: cyberczar@freedom.net
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit
Subject: {ASSM} Story: Pact with The Devil (ASFR, MF, MM, SciFi, Fantasy)
Date: Mon, 26 Mar 2001 03:10:03 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

 Pact With the Devil

Warning: This story contains frank discussions of a sexually explicit 
nature, and is intended for mature audiences only.

Disclaimer: The persons depicted in this story are entirely fictional. 
Any similarities are completely coincidental. References to actual 
places, companies, or organizations are used strictly for artistic 
reference to provide realism. In other words, none of this is true.

Copyright (c) 2000 - 2001 CyberCzar. In other words, you may download 
this story for your own personal use; but please don't share it with 
anyone. If you think someone else might be interested in this story, 
please forward their request to me.

Prologue

Ever have something that you've wished for greatly? Ever prayed to God 
(or the Devil, for that matter) for it to come true? Ever consider 
selling your soul to the Devil if your wish came true?

Sure, we all have. At one point in our lives or another. There was a 
movie back in the eighties called "Hunk" where a geeky nerd sold his 
soul to the Devil to become, well, a hunk. He got his wish all right, 
only he wasn't prepared to deal with the consequences.

This story chronicles several years of a dying man's life. He never 
(consciously) sold his soul to the Devil. He was offered a deal that 
was just too good to be true.

Problem is, most deals that are too good to be true usually are.

First and foremost, this is an ASFR story, so there's lots of talk 
about robots, androids, and other mechanical devices. There's also a 
fair amount of sex.

I hope you enjoy.

The Diagnosis

"I've got the results back from your tests, Martin," the doctor said, 
walking over to me. "You better sit down."

"What is it, Doc?" I asked, still standing.

"The cancer has spread. You've got maybe three to six months left. I'm 
sorry."

I stood there in his office, shocked. After all the chemo and 
radiation, I thought I was finally getting rid of this curse. As it 
turns out, it was finally getting rid of me.

"Thank you for your help," I said to him after a few minutes. "I think 
I have to get some things in order."

"I'll be here if you need me," he said as I walked out of his office.

As I left, I turned to walk down the street to the subway station to 
head home. My eyes made contact with a peddler sitting next to a 
building.

"Excuse me, mister," he said as I walked past. "Can you spare some 
change for some soup?"

I stopped and turned around to look at him. "I don't have any change, 
I'm sorry," I told him.

"That's ok, buddy. Thanks for at least acknowledging my existence," he 
replied.

I paused for a second. "I said I didn't have any change, I never said I 
didn't have any money."

I opened my wallet. I had about $400 in $50s and $20s. I reached in, 
and handed him all the money.He accepted the money, with the most 
solemn look of gratitude I've ever seen on a man. "But," he said.

"No buts." I said. "Tonight you won't be sleeping on the street and you 
won't be going to bed hungry."

He started to break down and cry. "Thank you," he said. "There is a 
God."

"Trust me," I said angrily; "there is no God."

I continued on my way. A little while later, I realized that I had just 
given the bum all my money so I had none for myself to hail a cab or 
buy a subway token. I continued on down the street until I came upon a 
park on the other side.

I walked across the street and sat down at one of the benches, 
reflecting on my life and what little meaning it had.

I was an advertising executive, coming up with bold and brand new ideas 
to sell Viagara, and new cars. I came up with new ways everyday for the 
masses to spend more of their money to further inflate their egos and 
perpetuate the capitalistic lifestyle this nation was so proud to 
embrace.

None of this seemed important now, though.

I just sat and watched life pass me by. A couple was taking their 
newborn out for a stroll. Several men and women jogged by. Some kids 
were playing soccer in the field behind me. An old woman sat down 
beside me to feed the pigeons.

"Hello," she said.

"Hi."

"I saw what you did back there," she said, breaking off pieces of bread 
for the birds.

"What?"

"The money you gave that man."

"Well, I don't have any more," I said, turning away from here.

"I don't want your money, Martin."

I was startled that she knew my name. "Who are you?" I asked.

"A friend." she said. "I also know you're dying."

"How do you know that!" I snapped at her. "No wait, never mind. Leave 
me alone!" I yelled, getting up to walk away.

"I can help you," she yelled towards me.

I paused and turned around to face her. "How?"

"Let's go back to your place," she said.I was nervous, and didn't know 
what to do; but what could I lose?

Slowly we walked back to my flat. She must be at least 80 years old 
since her gait was short and slightly off-balance.

About 30 minutes later, we made it to my apartment and I let her in. I 
set me keys down on the table next to the door. "Can I get you 
something to drink?" I asked.

"No, but I would like to use your bathroom," she said.

"In my bedroom at the end of the hall."

I walked into the kitchen and fixed myself a shot of bourbon. I was 
just finishing it off when she appeared out of my bedroom.

The old woman I escorted home was not old anymore! She was gorgeous! In 
fact, she looked like she was only about 20 or so. She had long, 
flowing, black hair; firm, supple breasts, and a perfect figure.

"Who are you?" I asked, setting my glass down. "What's going on?"

"Your guardian angel," she replied, walking over to me. "I'm here to 
take away your worries."I stepped back, scared. "The doctor said I had 
at least 3 months!"

"No, silly. Not that," she said with a smile. "I said I was your 
guardian angel, not the Grim Reaper."

"But how? How can you help me?" I asked.

"By giving you eternal life." she said.

"I don't believe you," I said; pouring another shot.

"Think about it, Martin! You'll never die!"

Quickly I finished my second shot and walked into the living room and 
sat down on the couch. I felt weak and scared.

She followed and sat down across from me in my chair.

"No disease," she said. "You'll never get sick again."

"What do I need to do?" I asked. "What do you want in return?"

"That's the easy part," she replied. "All you need to do is every 
century, convince your love to join me. It's simple!"

"But how will you make me eternal?"

"By giving you what will give you everlasting life," she said. "By 
turning you into an android."

She snapped her fingers, and out of thin air, a figure appeared in the 
middle of the room. It was a male figure. a little bit taller than me, 
and it had a much better looking body.

"Who's that?" I asked.

"That's soon to be you," she replied. "If, if you agree to the terms."

She handed me a simple contract which I read. Just as she said, the 
contract stated that I would receive eternal life if I offered to her 
my true love each and every century.

"I think I can handle this." I said. "Let me get a pen."

"I've got one," she said, handing me a strange looking pen. I looked 
like a syringe at the top, and had a metal quill-tip at the bottom. She 
unscrewed the bottom half of the pen when held a needle within, and 
stuck it in my arm and drew blood. She then screwed the lower half back 
on and handed it to me.

I signed the contract which burst into flames as I lifted the pen up 
finishing my signature.

"Are you ready?" she asked me.

"Not quite," I said. "I'd like to make some adjustments to this person 
if I'm going to be occupying its body for all of eternity."

"Understandable." she said.

I got up and faced the figure, and proceeded to remove the shirt it was 
wearing.

"I can take care of that for you," she said. She snapped her fingers 
and the figure's clothes were immediately gone. It stood naked in my 
living room.

"Let's start with the hair," I said. "I always wanted to be blonde. 
With another snap of her fingers, the figure's hair became blond.

"Give it a little body, a slight waviness to it," I commanded. Again, 
she snapped her fingers and the hair had some body to it.

"The eyes, could you make them blue?" I asked. She snapped again, and 
they were.

I continued, asking her to make the cheekbones a little more 
pronounced, a cleft in the chin, a more defined jaw-line. At my 
request, she made the shoulders a little more broad and the chest a 
little more pronounced. She made him 6'2" tall, made his waist just a 
little more narrow, and gave him a little more prowess.

"Are you done, now?" she asked, impatient.

"He's too pale," I said. "Make his skin tone just a little darker, and 
remove the hair from his chest, and stomach, and that will be it."

"Good enough to fuck, isn't he?" I said after watching the 
transformation.

"Yes he is," she said with a grin, rubbing her hands all over his body. 
"You've got good tastes."

With one last snap, I started to feel extremely dizzy, and felt a 
darkness all around me. When I opened my eyes, I was facing the wall.

"What happened to me?" I heard myself say, but it wasn't my voice.

"Welcome to your new self," I could hear the woman say behind me. As I 
turned to see what was going on, I could see myself laying on the floor.

"What happened to me?" I asked.

"You're dead; or rather your old self is."

I knelt down to look at the lifeless body which once held my soul.

"Enough!" the woman yelled. "I've taken too much time already. Before I 
go, some last minute business."

I stood up and faced her.

"First, some clothes," she said, snapping her fingers. Immediately, I 
was dressed in a black Armani suit.

"Next, some money," she continued, handing me a leather wallet. 
"There's $5000 cash in there, along with identification, platinum 
credit cards, and instructions on how to access a Swiss bank account, 
in your name, with a $25 million balance. Don't spend it all in one 
place."

She also handed him a cell-phone. "This is a special phone," she said. 
"It doesn't talk to me directly, but by you talking into it; you'll be 
able to change yourself. After all, you'll probably grow tired of your 
body after a few hundred years."

"Last but not least, you need the mark." she said. Again, she snapped 
her fingers, and I could feel something extremely hot pressing onto my 
left shoulder.

"Ow!" I yelled, quickly tearing off the jacket and shirt. I ran into 
the bedroom to look into the mirror where I saw the brand; six 
triangles, and four lines, forming an upside-down cross within a box, 
about 2" tall.

"But," I said, getting my shirt and jacket back on.

"No buts, I'll see you in a hundred years."

Just like that, she vanished in a puff of smoke.

I sat down in the chair and contemplated my position. What was I going 
to do now? I was dead; or rather everyone will soon think I was dead.

I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out my new wallet. The 
driver's license said, "Michael Briggs."

I was just about ready to leave before I realized there was one thing I 
wanted before I left. I walked back over to my now dead body, gently 
rolled it over, and pulled out the wallet. Inside was a picture of my 
mother. I took it, and placed it in my shirt pocket, and walked out the 
door.

"Hello Mrs. Quinones," I said to the woman standing in the hall before 
realizing what I had done, then quickly walked out of the building.

What was I going to do?

Then I remembered the woman telling me she had given me money, so I set 
out to find an apartment.

I walked for sometime and made my way into the 'Village. I never 
ventured down here that much. My life was filled with deadlines, 
meetings, and new customer prospects. Here, most were carefree and 
truly enjoying life.

I walked up to a street market and was glancing over the produce, 
contemplating what I had just agreed to when I heard a voice.

"New around here?" the young man said.

"Yeah, you could say that," I said.

"My name's Paul, what's yours?" he said, extending his hand for a shake.

"Mar... uh, Michael . Michael Briggs."

"Well, Michael Briggs, do you have a place to stay?"

"Well, actually I don't," I answered.

"Then it's settled," he said jubilantly.

"What is?"

"You'll be staying with me!" he exclaimed with a huge grin on his face. 
"Come on," he said, taking the fruit out of my hand and setting it down 
as he guided me away from the stand.

We walked about two blocks to his apartment building which appeared to 
be an old warehouse. I followed him into the freight elevator as he 
moved the lever forward lifting us up to the second level. Paul then 
lifted the gates which swung up revealing a huge studio apartment.

"Can I offer you something to drink?" he asked.

"No thanks, I'm not thirsty."

As he walked into his kitchen, I made my way to the center of the flat 
and looked around. Scattered throughout, there were canvases and 
easels. Some of the paintings were unfinished, but for the most part 
there were stacks and stacks of portraits, drawings, and still-lifes. 
As I examined the paintings more thoroughly, a common theme began to 
emerge. Each painting had a familiar character; a central point of 
focus, and that character looked remarkably like my new self!

"Interesting subject," I said out loud. "Who is he?"

He walked over to me, drink still in hand. "I think it's you," he said.

I quickly turned to look at him. How could this be me?

We walked over to the futon in his 'living room' and sat down. Paul 
explained that about two years ago, he got a strange dream. The main 
subject of his dream looked exactly like me. Several weeks passed as he 
tried to get the image of me out of his thoughts and dreams when he 
succumbed to his own subconscious and started painting the scenes from 
his dreams.

"So you see, when I saw you at the fruit-stand," he said quietly, 
"somehow I knew all this would make sense; if not now, then eventually."

"Look, Paul," I said trying to sound comforting.

"I don't think this is such a good idea."

"Please," he said genuinely. "I'll let you live here, rent free. Just 
let me paint you."

I thought about this for what probably seemed an eternity when I 
realized that I had an eternity myself.

"Okay," I said reluctantly.

"Excellent!" he said, coming over to give me a hug. "I've been looking 
for you for the past two years!"

"When do we begin?" I asked, squirming to get away from his hug.

"Now, if it's okay with you." he said.

I stood up, and raised my hands to shrug. "Sure, why not."

"Come over," Paul said, walking over to a window. There was a stool, 
and canvas set on an easel. "Would you mind taking off your clothes?"

"God, you know, I don't know," I said. I was feeling a little 
apprehensive.

"It's not like I haven't seen you naked before," he said. "You've only 
been filling my dreams for the past two years.

Reluctantly I took my clothes off and stood there naked in front of him.

"Remarkable," he said gazing at my naked self. "You're even more 
beautiful in person." Next, he positioned me on the stool, my feet 
apart, set on the rungs below, and sat behind the canvas.

I stayed like this for hours, but I wasn't growing tired. Through the 
night, Paul just painted. Stroke after stroke, his brush met the canvas 
with fury.

Several hours later, I found my mind wandering, remembering my past; my 
life, my relationships, my loves, my family.

I tried remembering as far back as I could. Images of me as a baby 
filled my head. My parents, holding me, loving me.

I tried to remember back further when I felt extremely scared. Darkness 
surrounded me. Pain, and pressure. All of a sudden bright lights, 
strange noises. Screaming. I had remembered my birth.

I tried to remember back even farther. Bliss. Calm. Serenity. I was 
remembering my tiny, still undeveloped fetus still growing in my 
mother's womb.

Dawn broke above the city, and it's morning rays cast through the 
windows behind me.

"My god, I didn't realize the time," Paul said from behind the canvas. 
"Are you tired? Would you like something?"

"No, I'm fine," I said.

"Well, I think it's done," he said. "Would you like to take a look?"

I walked over to the canvas and gazed upon the image. "It's beautiful," 
I said as I looked at myself.

"No, you're beautiful."

Paul left the room to take a shower; I got dressed and walked over to 
the living room and flipped on the TV.

The morning news was on and the lead story was about me, or rather my 
old self.

"Metropolitan prominent advertising executive, Martin Phillips was 
found dead in his apartment this morning." the anchorwoman said. 
"Martin is best known for his work on the Atlantis Condom campaign 
which successfully bridged the public policy against sex-education in 
the schools."

I flipped the channel to watch something else.Some time later Paul 
emerged from the shower naked, his hair still dripping.

Paul was a very handsome man, with a swimmer's build, and overall very 
proportioned. He walked into his kitchen, still naked, and toasted a 
bagel.

"Are you sure I can't fix you anything," he asked.

"I really am fine, thank you," I said.

He finished spreading some cream cheese on his bagel and came into the 
living room with me. "I'd like to do another nude if you don't mind," 
he asked.

"Uh, sure," I said.

We chatted for a few minutes as he finished off his bagel then he got 
up and motioned for me to follow him. I stood next to the bare easel as 
he got a two-foot high pedestal.

"Please, get on," he said. I disrobed, again, and stepped up onto the 
pedestal.

I could feel him breathing on me as he gently positioned me. His warm 
breath on my skin was beginning to turn me on. Carefully, he moved my 
arms and bended my knee into a stance he thought was right. He didn't 
say anything at the growing erection forming between my legs, either.

Just as before, he sat back behind his canvas, peeking out from behind 
every few seconds or so. A couple of hours later, he got up.

"Well, it's done," he said; "and you've got some mighty libido there, 
mister."

I hadn't noticed as my mind wandered again, thinking about how I was 
going to be spending the rest of eternity, but I had kept my erection 
throughout the entire painting marathon.

"It doesn't seem to want to go down," I said with a nervous chuckle.

I walked behind the canvass to see just about the whole area filled 
with a painting of my erect cock and balls.

"I couldn't resist," he said. "It's like your cock was calling out to 
me."

Seeing my cock transformed into an image of oil and pigment made me 
even more horny than I already was.

"Here, let me take care of that for you," Paul whispered in my ear.

I had never had sex with a man before. In fact, these lustful feelings 
I have been experiencing for Paul were all new to me.

Paul took me by my hand and gently led me to his bed where I layed down 
on my back. He gently pulled my legs toward him so that they were 
dangling off the edge. Next, he knelt down in front of me and started.

With great passion he brought me to an immense climax soon thereafter. 
I hadn't experienced an orgasm as strong as that which he brought upon 
me. While in a state of orgasmic bliss, I wondered if it was because of 
the forbidden way which I climaxed, my new body, or both.

He finished licking and devouring the remnants of my juices when he 
climbed on the bed to lay next to me.

"Now it's your turn," he told me with a grin on his face.

"But," I said hesitantly. "I've never..."

"Use your instinct," he said with a whisper.

I began to reciprocate what Paul had done to me just moments ago. As 
his cock entered my mouth, I felt a wave of forbidden passion flow 
through my entire body.

Paul was right; it was instinctful. Lost, primal urges. It seemed 
natural. Then again, sex was natural.

I soon brought him to orgasm and he spewed his juices in my mouth. They 
tasted nothing like I expected. The scariest thought to me was that I 
think I could get used to this.

He went into the bathroom to get clean. When he emerged, I followed 
suit, grabbing a clean washcloth from the linen pantry behind the door. 
As I stepped out after washing myself, Paul was talking to a woman in 
the living room.

"It's true!" she exclaimed when she saw me. "I didn't believe you 
existed."

"Michael, I'd like you to meet Jenna. Jenna's my sister."

"Uh, excuse me," I said quite embarrassed as I ran into the bathroom to 
put on a towel. As I emerged, she and Paul were staring at his latest 
work; the rather large painting of my cock and balls.

"You've got to show this," she told him. "You've got to show these all."

"I don't know," Paul said. "I'm not sure if I'm ready yet."

"Show what?" I interrupted.

"Well, you," she said smiling. "Or rather, the paintings of you."

"Oh," I said softly.

"Would you mind?" Paul asked.

"Well, do you think they're appropriate for the public?" I asked.

"It's art," Jenna said exuberantly. "And in the flesh or in oil, you 
are a work of art."

"Well, ok," I said reluctantly.

The Showing

Jenna had successfully persuaded both he and Paul to show the 
paintings. Acting as Paul's agent, Jenna arranged a showing for that 
weekend at the Metropolitan Underground Art Gallery.

Paul and Michael stayed busy for the weeks prior to the showing; 
each-other contributing their part to the vast array of artwork 
produced.

Paul had acquired a new-found vigor in his paintings, choosing to paint 
Michael in a variety of styles and positions. All the paintings had one 
single theme however, they all pictured Michael as the central 
character; and they all pictured him nude.

That Friday, a truck from the gallery came to pick up Paul's work. Paul 
supervised the workers loading the paintings onto the truck and he and 
Michael followed it to the location.

Jenna was standing on the back loading dock smoking a cigarette with 
the gallery's owner, Patrick Haas.

Michael followed Paul out of his car and walked over.

"This must be Michael," said Patrick, reaching out to shake Michael's 
hand. "Come, come inside for a cappucino."

They all made their way inside to the main gallery where preparations 
were taking place for the next day's showing.

They all sat at the bar with Patrick tending to the offerings as 
workers brought the 50 or so paintings inside.

"My Lord," Patrick said as he caught a glimpse of one of the nudes. He 
set down his coffee and walked over the painting leaning up against the 
wall. "Exquisite," he exclaimed, holding it up to the light.

The nude he was admiring so much was the one of Michael, standing like 
Michaelangelo's David, fully erect.

"Come," he said, clapping his hands together after setting the painting 
down. "We must get ready for tomorrow's show!"

He, Paul, and Jenna, worked feverously into the night hanging the 
paintings and setting the lights. Dawn broke and they were all passed 
out on the floor, or against the wall, exhausted.

Michael had decided to go to the donut shop across the street to grab 
everyone some donuts, bagels, and coffee. When he walked back into the 
gallery, the noise of the door chime woke everybody up.

"Ah, glad to see you're awake," he said sarcastically. "Breakfast is 
here."

He set everything out on the bar and leaned back against the wall while 
everyone ate.

"Michael," Paul said. "Have something to eat."

"I'm not hungry, thank you." he replied.

"You're very curious," he said, setting his donut down. "In the three 
weeks you've been staying with me, I've yet to notice you eat, sleep, 
or go to the bathroom other than to shower."

"You've got some peculiar habits of your own," he replied, trying to 
draw the conversation subject away from him.

"Yes, Paul," Jenna interjected. "Leave him alone."

"Mr. Briggs, will you be joining us this evening?" Patrick asked.

"You'll have to," Paul said. "You're the star of the show."

"I guess I don't have much of a choice then, do I?" he asked.

With great exuberance, the group responded in unison, "No!"

Michael stepped away and took one last look at the paintings throughout 
the gallery. After examining all the pieces, he walked back to the 
group and told them he was going to back to Paul's apartment to rest.

"I'll drive you," Jenna said jumping up.

"It's okay, really," he replied.

"I insist," she said with a grin on her face clutching her arm around 
his as she escorted him to the back of the gallery.

"He's quite a catch," Patrick said to Paul, as Jenna and Michael left 
the room. "Does his cock really look like what you've portrayed in your 
paintings?"

"Even better in person," Paul giggled as he responded. "He's quite 
unusual, though."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, I was serious when I brought up the fact that I've never noticed 
him eat or sleep," he said. "And about two weeks ago, I forced myself 
to stay up for two straight days working on the largest piece and not 
once did he get up to go to the bathroom. I never saw him need anything 
to drink, either."

"That is strange," said Patrick, agreeing with him.

Later, while Jenna was driving them back to Paul's apartment, she was 
trying to get to know Michael a little better.

"Where are you from, Michael?" she asked.

"I'm originally from Arizona, but I recently moved here about a month 
ago." he said.

"Is that when you met Paul?"

"Yes," he replied. "He's very nice."

They made their way back to Paul's apartment. Jenna followed him 
upstairs. When he lifted the gates to the elevator he was struck with 
how barren Paul's apartment now looked without any paintings or 
canvases laying about.

"Thanks for the ride, I think I'm going to lay down for a few," he told 
her.

"Ok, I'm just going to use the phone," she said.

Michael walked over to the bed, layed down, and closed his eyes. He 
wasn't tired; in fact he no longer needed sleep of any kind, but he 
wanted to be alone and figured this was the best way to make it happen.

Across the room he heard Jenna hang up the phone. He was expecting to 
hear the doors to the elevator open signaling her leave when he felt 
someone get on the bed next to him.

"Jenna?" he said, opening his eyes.

"I heard you don't need any sleep," she replied with an evil grin.

"Uh," he replied nervously. "I do, and I'm tired."

She positioned herself so she was on top of his legs restricting his 
movements.

"Are you sure?" she asked sarcastically, running her fingers up his 
legs to his crotch.

The touch of her hands on his flesh and through the fabric of his 
shorts was starting to really turn him on.

Beneath his shorts, his cock was starting to grow, yearning to be freed 
from its confines.

"Uh..." he said again.

Jenna then proceeded to unbutton and unzip Michael's fly. His cock 
sprang up at attention, trying to force its way through the remaining 
barrier, his boxers.

"My you're a mysterious man, Michael Briggs." she said with another 
giggle.

Michael layed on his back, his hands at rest by his hips, as Jenna 
proceeded to remove his shorts and boxers. His cock was now pushing 
firmly against his abdomen; its head resting up just past his navel.

She didn't say anything as she grasped his uncut cock in her hands and 
gently slid it inside her. She then let out screams of ecstasy and 
excitement as she took him for a ride; his essence brought upon wave 
after wave of orgasmic pleasure with each thrust. This left her spent 
and exhausted as she collapsed on top of him, wrapping her arms around 
his chest.

"Fucking unbelievable," she whispered to him. "Thank you."

After she got dressed and left, Michael went into the bathroom to take 
a shower.

After finishing with his shower, he relegated himself into the living 
room to read a book. "War and Peace," he said outloud. "Guess I have an 
eternity to read this now."

Sometime later, Paul came home; without saying a word he walked over to 
the bed and collapsed out of pure exhaustion.

Michael had finished about half of the book when Paul woke up about 7 
hours later, took a shower, and got ready for the evening.

The two headed for the gallery around 5pm. Paul was dressed in a white 
pirate short with black leather jeans while Michael decided to wear 
jeans and a t-shirt.

When they arrived at the gallery, Jenna, Patrick, and the caterers were 
already there getting ready for the evening's festivities.

The first guests arrived about an hour later and Michael excused 
himself to the back office where he proceeded to get undressed and put 
on a long robe. Patrick had convinced him to wear only the robe when 
they arrived earlier. The plan was to be that Michael would come out 
during the apex of the showing, disrobe so everyone could see what he 
looked like in person, and circulate through the gallery naked for the 
rest of the evening. He agreed to this because Patrick convinced him it 
would help sell the paintings.

He could see through the security cameras in the back office that 
things looked like they were going pretty well. About 100 people showed 
up for the first night, which was by invitation only. Many of the elite 
were here admiring Paul's work.

He was reading an issue of Smithsonian in his robe when Patrick came 
into the back office to check on him.

"How are you doing," Patrick asked.

"Very good. Things look like they're going well out there." he said.

"Are you ready for your debut?"

"As I'll ever be, I guess."

Patrick winked at him as he turned around to walk back out.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention please." he said to 
the crowd, which hushed rather quickly and turned to face him. "I'd 
like to introduce you to the subject of all these works, a masterpiece 
of art both on canvas and in person; please allow me this great honor 
of introducing to you Michael Briggs!"

Michael walked out from the back office in his robe and stepped up to 
the platform which was built earlier that day. He then turned around so 
his back was facing the crowd, and let the robe fall to his feet.

"What an ass," a patron whispered to his partner as his fell upon the 
naked man.

As he turned around to face his audience, a roar of cheers and applause 
reverberated throughout the gallery.

"What I wouldn't give to spend an evening with him," a woman whispered 
under her breath.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is Michael Briggs," Patrick said; as more 
clapping followed.

Michael got off the stage and began circulating through the crowd, 
introducing himself and meeting everyone in attendance.

Sales of Paul's paintings were happening at a frenzied pace! The 36" x 
48" painting of Michael's erect cock, and balls, was turning into a 
semi-auction between three potential buyers.

"$15,000," one man said.

"$17,000," said a woman.

"$25,000," said another man.

Michael walked over to see what the commotion was about.

"Isn't it great, Michael," Paul said, clutching his arm.

"Wonderful," he replied. "If you'll excuse me gentlemen .... madam, 
I've got some more mingling to do."

He left to circulate back through the crowd when he was stopped by a 
rather tall man with a goatee.

"Hello, Michael," the man said. "My name is Augustus Ramsey; have you 
ever been interested in making movies?"

"I'm not sure I know what you mean," Michael replied.

The two chatted for a while where he learned that Augustus was a porno 
director. Augustus wanted to make Michael the next John Holmes.

"Sounds interesting," Michael said to him. The fact was, just talking 
about the possibility was getting him visibly turned on and before he 
knew it, he was standing in front of Augustus, holding his cappucino, 
with a raging hard-on.

"Come with me, back to L.A." he insisted.

He agreed, and the two men walked out the door.

Los Angeles

"You look troubled," Augustus said to Michael as they were flying west 
to L.A.

"I'm worried about Paul," he said.

"Don't be!" Augustus exclaimed. "Your 'showing' netted Paul roughly 
$10million for all the paintings he sold. He's set for life."

"Really?" Michael said.

"You're very popular."

They arrived in Los Angeles several hours later. Augustus drove Michael 
to an apartment complex on Melrose Place and showed him where he'd be 
staying.

It was a bungalow-style apartment. There were 12 apartments, each 
opening up to a central pool. The front was gated, and it seemed pretty 
secure.

"Welcome to 1969 Melrose Place," he said, escorting Michael into his 
apartment.

"It's gorgeous!" Michael said, turning to look around. "Do you own all 
this?"

"Yes," he said. "This is where all my stars live. It also dubs as a 
convenient set."

"How many people live here," he asked.

"You're number 12. We've got 7 girls, and you make the 5th guy."

Michael walked through the apartment, checking things out. His was 
furnished quite contemporary; with a black leather couch, lots of black 
mica with chrome trim furniture.

"I noticed there's no locks on the door," he said to Augustus.

Augustus brought Michael's bag into his bedroom.

"Yes, it's designed that way. There's adequate security with the front 
gate."

He also couldn't help but notice there were remote controlled video 
cameras all throughout the compound, and inside the apartment.

"What's with all the cameras?"

"Like I said," Augustus replied, "this doubles as a set, too. The 
surveillance cameras are primarily for your safety, but they're also 
broadcasted live on our website."

"So people can see everything that goes on in here?"

"Absolutely, and people are watching as we speak. Although, they can't 
hear us."

"Cool," he said.

"Well, I'll leave you to get situated." Augustus said. "I'll see you at 
10am on Monday for your first shoot."

"Bye," he replied; as he closed the door behind him leaving Michael's 
new apartment.

Michael went into the bedroom and started to unpack his clothes and put 
them away.

Several minutes later, he heard the front door open and light footsteps 
coming towards him.

When he turned around to accost the stranger who had just entered, his 
eyes fell upon a rather voluptuous redhead, standing naked in his 
doorway.

"You won't be needing a lot of those," she said.

"Excuse me?" he replied.

"Clothes. You won't be needing a lot of clothes." she replied, walking 
into the room.

"I'm Trixie, by the way."

Michael set one of his sports coats down on his bed and turned to face 
her.

"We've heard an awful lot about you," she said; running her fingers 
down his chest.

"Nice to meet you."

"I'm your welcome wagon." she continued, running her fingers through 
his hair.

Without warning, Trixie leaned forward and took Michael's head in her 
hands. Forcing her tongue into his mouth, her hands traversed down the 
android's body, gently undoing the clasp of his jeans.

Michael wasn't wearing any underwear, which was just fine for Trixie as 
she nudged her way into his pants. Her small hands grasped the 
artificial member yearning to escape its confines.

Slowly it growed, responding to the sights and smells of her which were 
filling Michael's senses. She knelt down in front of him, slowly 
pulling his pants down, releasing his shaft from its denim jail.

Trixie caught a glimpse of Michael's 11 inches for the first time. 
"Mmm," she cried out.

"Lovely!"

Without wasting any time, Trixie went down on him, taking in his entire 
organ; slowly at first, but eventually succeeding.

Michael was eventually brought to orgasm; and with several powerful 
actions, thrust his juices -- made with artificial and natural flavors 
-- inside her mouth, the contents spilling from her lips very slightly.

"Delicious," she said, ingesting the last of it.

"You're going to be a star."

Trixie was one of Augustus' starlets who found her hooking the streets 
when she was just 17. He gave her a place to stay, got her boobs fixed, 
and gave her a job. That was 8 years ago, and now Trixie is one of 
Augustus' most popular featurettes in his films.

Orgasm Entertainments is one of Hollywood's most successful adult media 
production and distribution companies and caters to all lifestyles.

Trixie spent the night at Michael's apartment that evening, but the two 
didn't get much sleep. For hours, the two's trysts went on endlessly. 
One after another, throughout the night he brought her to orgasm as 
they tried just about every position in the Karma Sutra. When dawn 
broke, she was exhausted, asleep on his chest.

She must have been having an intense dream; as he looked down upon her, 
he could see her masturbating herself under the sheets.

She awoke several minutes later to find herself still resting on his 
chest. She didn't say anything, or open her eyes as she let her hands 
wander over to his thighs. Michael thought she was still asleep and 
didn't say anything for fear of waking her.

Slowly she caressed his leg and thighs, moving her fingers farther up 
towards his waist with each stroke. When she reached his shaft and 
balls, she was pleasantly surprised to find him again, hard as a rock, 
and ready for more action.

She grabbed the top of his shaft with her right hand and slowly begin 
to jerk him off. Not wanting to stain the sheets with another eruption, 
and thinking she was still dreaming, He let her do this for as long as 
she wanted.

Twenty minutes had passed, and Trixie was beginning to get frustrated. 
Faster and faster she stroked him, hoping to find a warm eruption would 
soon follow. When it didn't, she altered her rhythms and played more 
with the head of his cock.

"Aren't you going to cum," she said, quite disappointed.

"You're awake!" he cried out.

"I have been," she exclaimed, sitting up to look at him. "I've been 
trying to jerk you off for the past 20 minutes or so."

"I, I thought you were still asleep. Dreaming."

He reached down and kissed her on her forehead. "But if you want me to 
cum, I can do it right now," he said afterwards; and without warning 
spewed his juices all over her.

"Oh my God," she cried out, fingering up the juices which had fallen on 
her and him. "You've got some amazing control!"

He went into the bathroom to take a shower.

Trixie followed soon after and joined him.

The two faced each-other, letting the jets of water flow into every 
nook and cranny of their bodies. Michael picked up the bar of soap and 
ran it all across Trixie's neck, breasts, and stomach.

He paid careful attention to her breasts, kneading them gently in his 
hands. Massaging them. Caressing them.

When he finished washing the front of her, she took the soap from him 
and began washing him.

Slowly she ran her fingers over his chest, feeling the sharp ridges of 
his seemingly defined pecs. Further down she went, gently caressing the 
nodules of his abdominals. She continued further, cupping his balls in 
her hand while she washed them and his shaft. She couldn't resist 
milking his long, soft shaft as she gently pulled back it skin to pay 
special attention to his glans.

All this was getting Michael excited again, and slowly his member was 
getting long and firm right beneath her fingers. She wasn't about to 
let him get off just yet; before she had a chance to wipe his ass.

Next, she rolled the soap in her palm creating a thick lather as she 
reached under him with her soapy fingers, paying careful attention to 
his anus. Gently she inserted two of her slippery fingers into his 
anus, getting them clean.

This startled him since he's never had anyone play with his anus like 
this before. Without warning, he couldn't resist coming at that very 
moment as he spewed himself right into her face.

"Oh my God," he said apologetically. "I'm so sorry!"

Laughing, Trixie stood back up, wiping the artificial semen from her 
eyes. "Guess we know what turns you on, you kinky pervert." she said as 
she moved her face under the water to wash her face off.

They both left the shower as soon as she had cleaned her face.

Michael walked into his bedroom to put some clothes on after drying off 
when he noticed Trixie leaving.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his towel still around his waist.

"I'm going to go lay out by the pool," she said. "Wanna join me?"

"But you have no clothes on."

"Honey, at Melrose Place clothing is practically prohibited."

He followed her outside to the pool where Jeff, Kyle, Alex, Roxy, and 
Christy were already catching some rays.

"Hey guys," said Trixie. "I'd like you to meet Matthew."

"Michael," he said.

"Michael? I thought it was Matthew." she said.Jeff and Christy chuckled 
at the societal faux pas Trixie had made, and the trench she was 
digging deeper and deeper.

"Anyway," she said; "He's Augustus' new prodigy. And a great fuck, I 
might add."

"Well pull up a seat, darling," Roxy said. "Take your towel off and 
enjoy the rays."

He dragged a chaise closer to them and took off his towel to lay down 
on the lounge.

"Whoa there, honey," Roxy said when she caught a glimpse of his member.

"Good God," said Alex noticing his prowess as well. "I've died and gone 
to Heaven."

"Turn around for us," Christy said. "Let's get a good look at you."

Michael smiled and posed for the five sunbathing out by the pool.

"That thing is not going to fit inside of me," exclaimed Roxy.

"It's not that bad," Trixie said. "He's actually very gentle!" she 
finished, giggling. "Plus, he comes on command," she added.

He laid down on the lounge chair at this point and was watched a flock 
of birds fly through the sky.

"Are you a top or a bottom," asked Kyle."Excuse me?"

"Do you like to fuck or be fucked," Trixie interpreted.

He thought about his answer for a moment. "I like sex, period," he said.

The Pool

"Well, how 'bout us sampling the goods before we all go into work on 
Monday?" suggested Alex, walking over to him with a wry smile on his 
face.

"Sounds good to me!" said Michael as he reached up and gently grabbed 
his balls.

Alex's grin never left him as he climbed up onto the lounge and thrust 
his throbbing cock into Michael's mouth. Not wanting to miss out on any 
of the action, Kyle walked up behind them and stuck his cock into 
Alex's.

"Why should the boys have all the fun?" quipped Roxy as she climbed 
onto the lounge, sticking Michael's now fully engorged cock in her 
pussy. "Oooh!" she cried out as it filled her up inside.

Meanwhile, upstairs; next to Michael, was Brad's apartment. He had the 
reputation of the biggest cock in the industry. A full 13" uncut, and 
about 6" around at the base.

He was actually bred this way. His great, great, great, grandfather was 
a legend back in the late 18th century in Tennessee. Everyone back then 
used to call him "Horse". His mother back at the time told him that if 
he ever wanted to keep "it"; that he best marry only "women from good 
stock".

This began Brad's ancestor's quest to only find women who's father's 
and brother's were also of "good stock."

Brad's great-grandfather (x3) found such a girl in Georgia, married 
her, and had 4 young studs who were also of "good stock".

An edict was passed down in the family that the children were to only 
do the same. Generations later, Brad was born, and the men in his 
family now rank as the family with the largest cocks in America.

For those who are wondering, Brad still abides by his family's ancient 
edict and is continuously searching for women who have fathers and 
brothers with "good stock" themselves.

He's already fathered 8 children, and all show promises.

"What's all the commotion?" he said, sleeping stepping out onto the 
walkway yelling down.

 From above, he could see the lustful writhing taking place downstairs.

"Mmmm," he thought outloud. "Fresh meat!" as he walked downstairs.

The troupe was too engaged in what they were doing to notice him. Roxy 
was busy bouncing up and down on Michael's shaft having one orgasm 
after another with each few thrusts.

Slowly Brad kneeled down in front of Michael's shaven ass and gently 
pushed his hips up and back revealing the virgin hole. This startled 
Roxy as she opened her eyes to gaze into Brad. She reached over and put 
her arms around his neck, pulling him to her to kiss him, as he thrust 
his enormous member up Michael's ass.

As Brad's cock entered Michael, it sent a wave of sexual energy through 
him which all the other's felt. Unable to contain himself, Michael came 
with such force and vigor inside Roxy that she actually felt his cum, 
deep inside her.

Alex couldn't hold back any further as he spewed his jism down his 
throat.

Kyle was soon to follow, shooting his into Alex.

While just joining the party, Brad wasn't about to cum yet as he pushed 
his cock deeper into Michael with each thrust. Again and again, Michael 
shot his load deep into Roxy. So much in fact that it was beginning to 
spill out of her, back onto his cock.

"Hey Rox," Trixie yelled, noticing the mess that was starting.

"Unh... what... what... ungh..."

"I think you better get off."

"Ungh... Why?" she said stopping.

"Take a look," Trixie said, pointing to her crotch.

Roxy looked down and noticed the white, sticky goo which was flowing 
steadily out of her, and down Michael's cock. She quickly got up, and 
even more glop fell out.

"Christ! I've never seen anybody cum so much."

Alex and Kyle had already left Michael and were each taking laps in the 
pool. With one final thrust, Brad jammed his cock deep inside Michael, 
spewing his juices deep inside him. Not to be outdone, with a wave or 
orgasmic delight, Michael shot his load one last time with it flying 
well over his head.

"That was great," Michael said.

Not amused at the mess Roxy was literally in, she balked back "Yeah, 
well I still have cum dripping out of me! How much did you fucking cum?"

"I dunno, pretty much every time this guy thrusted his cock into me."

"Fuck," she said, scooping up the dripping cum from her crotch with her 
hands. "I need to take a shower."

Meanwhile, back at Augustus' office, he and his partner were keeping 
abreast of the fun times which had just taken place at the pool.

"Gus, did you see that?" Lenny said walking into Augustus' office.

"Yeah, fucking unbelievable!"

Lenny Smitz was Augustus' business partner, camera man, editor, and 
office queen.

"The guy's got the combined prostate of Jeff Stryker, John Holmes, and 
Rupert Murdhock." he replied. "Wonder what drugs or herbs he takes?"

"I dunno," said Gus, "but we're gonna make a killing off of him!"

Back at the pool, Roxy had gone upstairs to shower. All the screaming 
and moaning which had taken place at the pool woke Amber and Linda, the 
only lesbian couple that lived at Melrose Place.

"What the fuck's going on down here?" yelled Linda.

"Oh God," she thought to herself gazing down at Michael's still 
semi-hard dick. "More cock."

"Hi," Michael said to her.

"Hi."

"I'm Michael."

"Linda."

"Wanna fuck?"

As if she could get any more pissed off, Linda stormed off back into 
her apartment, slamming the door behind her.

"Was it something I said?"

"She's a vegetarian," said Christy.

Michael just looked at her perplexed.

"A lesbian!" said Jeff.

"Oh, well on that note I think I'm going to go upstairs and take a 
nap." he said.

"Have fun, studboy," cried out Trixie as he walked away.

He walked back upstairs and proceeded to take a shower. Downstairs, 
however, he was still the talk of the pool.

"Have you ever seen a guy cum so much," asked Christy.

"It's not natural," said Brad. "He's going to put us all out of 
business."

"Now, now," said Trixie. "Unless Gus plans on shooting nothing but 
jerk-off videos, he'll still need a partner."

"Good point!"

Unexpected Guests

Michael finished his shower as the rest of the troupe got back to their 
sunbathing outside.

As he stepped out of the bath, a familiar figure stood before him.

"It hasn't been a hundred years!" he exclaimed.

"Shut up and sit down," she said. "I'm here out of courtesy; to see how 
you're doing."

"Fine," he said.

"Yeah! I see that," she said plopping herself down on his bed. "How 
much fucking did you do today?"

"You saw all that?" he said throwing himself onto the bed to lay down.

"I saw everything," she said emphatically; "and from my angle, it 
looked pretty damn erotic."

"Fuck."

"No, that's what you're going to do to me," she said. "Now that you've 
washed all the juices off those mortal bitches, it's my turn."

"Fuck you, I'm not in the mood." he said, turning away from her on his 
bed.

"I don't think you understand," she said. "You're going to do me, 
whether you want to or not."

"How?"

With a flash of light, and a puff of smoke, out of nowhere a remote 
control appeared in the mystic woman's hand.

"Like this," she said; pushing a button.

Suddenly, and without warning, Michael's cock sprang up at attention.

"But," he said.

And with another push of a button, she caused him to cum, right then 
and there; spewing his juices all over his stomach.

"I," he said. "I can't move!" Laying there, on his back, cum dripping 
down the sides of his stomach and chest. She couldn't help but laugh.

"This wasn't part of the deal!" he cried out.

"I'm modifying the agreement!" she said angrily.

"You can't do that!" he said.

"Oh, really now," she said, crushing his balls in her hand. "What are 
you going to do, sue me?" Next, she grabbed his erect cock, and with 
great force, ripped it; along with its circuitry, right out of his body.

Sparks and smoke billowed from his groin as he let out a muffled cry. 
Spastically, his head began to jerk back and forth.

"I, I, I, I," he said with an electronic studder.

"Oh, shut up!" she said; pressing another button on her remote. 
Immediately, Michael lost all control of his mouth and voice and just 
laid there, looking up at the ceiling, motionless.

"Do you believe me, now?" she said sarcastically, standing over him; 
his cock still in her hand. "I said you were going to fuck me, and you 
are."

She pressed a few more buttons on her remote and Michael sat straight 
up on his bed.

She took his cock, with wires and tubes still hanging from it, and 
proceeded to give the detached member head. He had no idea how, but he 
was feeling her warm moist lips on his detached head; and it felt very 
good.

Next she snapped her fingers and from a puff of smoke, a tall glass of 
iced tea appeared on the night stand. Nonchalantly she plopped his 
shaft -- head first -- into the cold glass of tea which he suddenly 
felt. In fact, the liquid was so cold he wanted to shiver, but was 
already frozen and couldn't.

"Hmmm, that was nice," she said aloud while climbing up on the bed next 
to him, "but I have a craving for something salty," she continued. 
Michael looked down and could see her sticking her hand into the cavity 
in his groin.

He felt nothing as he could see her arm deep within his groin. She then 
pulled out what appeared to be a very long tube from within him and 
brought it up to her lips.

"Did you know I swallowed?" she said wryly as she sucked on the tube.

As she sucked, white, milky fluid started to flow out from inside him 
and she took in ounce after ounce.

He was feeling wave after wave of orgasms as she continued to suck on 
the tube. Minutes later she stopped and shoved the tube back inside him.

"Ahh!" she cried out. "Delicious! What did you think?"

He said nothing.

"Michael?"

He still said nothing.

"Ooops!" she giggled. "Here," she said pressing a button on the remote 
control.

"What d-d-d-d-did you d-d-d-d-d-d-d-do?" he tried to say.

"Isn't it obvious, my dear?" she said as she ran her fingers through 
his stoic head. "I just drank your cum!"

"B-b-b-b-b-b-but....."

"Enough! Now I have a craving for something cold and sweet."

She picked up the glass of tea with his cock and balls still sticking 
out. She wrapped her lips around one of the tubes sticking out, and 
began to use his cock as a straw.

Michael immediately felt the cold liquid flow up his shaft as she drank 
the entire liquid.

"C-c-c-c-c-c-cold." he said.

"Ah!" she said, swallowing the last drop. "Ready for that fuck?"

She squatted down beside the bed and thrusted his hard shaft deep 
within her. In and out she pushed and pulled on his member with one 
hand, and massaged her clit with her other until she brought herself to 
climax.

Falling down on her knees, she let out a sigh, stood up, and snapped 
her fingers again. With another flash of light, Michael's cock was 
reattached to his body, he was able to talk normally, and could move 
freely.

When he realized this, he jumped to the other side of the floor away 
from her.

"What the fuck just happened?" he cried out.

"Darling, you've just been fucked by the devil." she said; and with 
another snap of her fingers, a flash of light, and puff of smoke; she 
was gone.

IHOP

After checking his apartment briefly to make sure she had left, Michael 
layed down for his nap. Hours later, a knock on his door brought him 
back to consciousness.

He answered the door only to find Roxy and Trixie standing in the hall.

"Hurry up and get dressed, we're going to IHOP to get something to 
eat," said Trixie.

He nodded and walked back inside to put on some clothes.

As he walked downstairs, he saw Brad, Kyle, Trixie, and Roxy waiting 
for him at the gate.

"I've got shotgun!" cried out Kyle as he ran to Brad's Jeep.

"He always has shotgun," Trixie whispered to Michael.

Roxy went ahead and got in the backseat of Brad's Jeep as Trixie 
motioned for him to go in next.

Brad headed south along the surface streets towards Wilshire Blvd. 
While he and Kyle were having fun up front listening to the radio, 
Trixie took it upon herself to try to have some fun in the backseat.

"You're quite amazing Michael," she said, gently running her hand up 
his thigh.

"I'll say!" Roxy chimed in. "I went through three pairs of panties 
after I got out of the shower 'cause of all the come still dripping out 
of me."

Sweat, baby; sweat, baby; Sex is a Texas drought.

Me and you do the kind of stuff, that only Prince would sing about.

"Sorry," he said; leaning over to whisper in her ear.

"It was ok," she said. "I haven't come so hard myself in a long time."

Trixie continued her explorations of Michael with her hand as she ran 
her fingers over his shorts. She could feel him starting to get hard.

So put your hands down my pants, and I'll bet you'll feel nuts;

Yes I'm Siskel, yes I'm Ebert, and you're getting two thumbs up!

Michael's cock was beginning to peek out from underneath his denim 
which was turning Roxy on. She began to massage herself through her 
denim shorts.

"Sorry, Rox," said Trixie. "I've got to have it!" as she unbuttoned his 
shorts, undid the zipper, leaned over; and took his shaft in her mouth.

You've had enough of two-hand touch, You want rough, you're out of 
bounds;

I want you smothered, want you covered; like my Waffle House hashed 
browns.

Trixie began to give Michael a blowjob right there in Brad's Jeep. Roxy 
slouched down and spread her legs as she undid her shorts and proceeded 
to finger herself.

Drivers along side them were getting an eye-full as the three were 
engaged in some purely erotic stimulation.

Comin' quicker than Fedex, never reach an apex,

Just like Coca-Cola stock you make me rise an hour early, just like 
Daylight Savings time!

You and me baby ain't nothin' but mammals, So let's do it like they do 
on the Discovery channel!

You and me baby, ain't nothin' but mammals, So let's do it like they do 
on the Discovery channel!

Michael erupted like clockwork into Trixie's mouth who took it all in 
without spilling a drop. Having witnessed this however, Roxy was ready 
for more.

Roxy, who wasn't wearing any panties, slid her shorts down and brought 
Michael's head to her lap.

"Now it your turn to give me head, darling." she said.

Love, the kind you clean up with a mop and bucket, Like the lost 
catacombs of Egypt only God knows where we stuck it,

Hieroglyphics? Let me Pacific, I wanna be down in your South Seas,

But I've got this notion of the motion of your ocean, Means "Small 
Craft Advisory"!

So if I capsize in your thighs, High-tide, B-5, "You sank my 
Battleship!"

Please turn me on, I'm Mr. Coffee, with an automatic drip.

All this action in the back seat was getting Brad and Kyle turned on up 
front as well as they couldn't resist giving each-other a handjob as 
well.

So show me yours, I'll show you mine, "Tool Time," you'll Lovett just 
like Lyle,

Then we will do it doggy style, So we can both watch "X-Files".

Anybody who's tried to give someone else a hand-job while driving has 
got to realize how difficult it must be to keep your car on the road, 
especially while having to shift gears and not lose momentum at the 
same time.

However, for the driver receiving the hand-job, it's proportionally 
more difficult to keep control, especially when you just erupted all 
over yourself, and your shirt.

Several minutes later, after almost setting a record for the most near 
misses in a five-mile journey, the five arrived at the IHOP.

Brad got a new shirt from his duffle bag behind the back seat as the 
four went in to get a table.

"Fuck, I could use a cigarette right about now," Roxy said.

"Fuck a cigarette, I could smoke a whole carton!" chimed in Trixie.

Unfortunately for the two, all public places in Los Angeles County were 
smoke free. The funny thing is, the smog has never seemed to die while 
the cigarette butts have.

Brad had joined the other four who were sitting at a booth.

"What'll it be, guys?" the waitress said as she approached the table.

"Potato pancakes," said Roxy.

"Steak and eggs," said Brad.

"Mexican omlette," said Kyle.

"Oooh, that sounds good," said Trixie. "I'll have an omlette, too."

"And for you, sir?" the waitress said to Michael.

"I'll have a glass of water."

"Water?!" the group said in unison.

"What?" he cried out. "I'm not hungry!"

Little did the group know the reason behind Michael's apparent lack of 
appetite.

"Well you're a cheap date," remarked Kyle.

The group sat and talked about their earlier escapade and about the 
film industry in general. Much to the chagrin of the family of four 
sitting at the next table, all their talk of cocks and clits and cum 
were making some patrons uncomfortable.

"So is everyone ready for tomorrow?" asked Kyle.

"What's happening tomorrow?" asked Michael.

"Filming begins for Busty Blonde Bimbo Bitches Bathing by Bodega Bay," 
said Brad.

"Busty Blonde..." interrupted Michael, laughing.

"Hey, we don't make the titles," said Roxy.

After eating, the five went on back to their apartments.

Kyle joined Michael upstairs for some drinks and a little action where 
their evening was filled with a Time Warp full of fucking and sucking.

Busty Blonde Bimbo Bitches: Bathing by Bodega Bay

Michael was still laying in his bed next to Kyle when the knock came at 
his door. He looked at the clock and saw that it read 9:30 AM. 
Hurriedly he got up and threw on a towel as he walked over to answer 
the door.

Outside was Augustus and Lenny.

"Hi, Mike," said Gus. "Hope we didn't wake you. I'd like you to meet 
Lenny Smitz, my business partner."

"Hi."

"Hi."

"Ready for your big day, Michael?" asked Gus.

"As I'll ever be."

He went back in, threw on some jeans and a T-Shirt and met the others 
downstairs by the pool.

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

THE SCENE OPENS UP WITH MARLA (Played by Trixie) AND SARAH (Played by 
Linda) GIVING EACH OTHER A LITTLE 69 ACTION ON THE BEACH (which is 
actually a set).

AS THEY'RE LICKING EACH OTHER'S CUNTS, FROM BEHIND THE PALM TREES BRAD 
(Played by Michael), COMES STRUTTING ALONG.

"HEY, WANNA FUCK?" SAYS MARLA.

"SURE!" BRAD SAID AS HE WHIPPED HIS HUGE MEMBER OUT OF HIS SPEEDOS.

BRAD POUNDED AWAY INTO MARLA, BUT SARAH WAS GETTING JEALOUS. SHE 
CLIMBED ON TOP OF MARLA, THEIR BREASTS PRESSING AGAINST EACH OTHER, AND 
BEGAN KISSING HER PASSIONATELY, THEIR CLITS RUBBING AGAINST THEIR 
PELVISES.

NOT WANTING TO LEAVE ANYONE OUT, BRAD WITHDREW FROM MARLA AND REACHED 
UNDER AND BEGAN FUCKING SARAH AS WELL.

BRAD CLIMAXED INTO SARAH, WITHDREW, AND INSERTED HIS COCK WHICH WAS 
STILL HARD BACK INTO MARLA WHERE HE CAME AGAIN.

"THAT WAS GREAT!" SAID SARAH.

"YEAH! LET US RETURN THE FAVOR," SAID MARLA.

REACHING UP, THE TWO PULLED BRAD DOWN TO THE SAND.

SARAH LEANED DOWN AND TOOK BRAD'S MEMBER INTO HER MOUTH WHILE MARLA 
WAITED. LIKE A WELL TUNED PISTON, SARAH BOBBED HER HEAD UP AND DOWN 
BRAD'S SHAFT TAKING IT IN DEEPER WITH EVERY STROKE.

QUICK TO COME THIS TIME, BRAD SPEWED HIS SPERM AS SARAH LOVINGLY GULPED 
THE LAST BIT DOWN.

BRAD'S COCK WAS STILL ENGORGED AFTER COMING THREE TIMES WHICH MARLA 
HAPPILY EMBRACED. SHE TOOK HIM INTO HER MOUTH AND TRIED TO OUTDO 
SARAH'S PERFORMANCE.

ALL THIS EROTICISM WAS TOO MUCH FOR BRAD TO HANDLE HOWEVER, AND HE 
QUICKLY SQUIRTED.

"AWWW!" SAID MARLA. "I FEEL JIPPED!"

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

"Cut!" said Gus. "Excellent! Amazing!" he said, walking over to 
congratulate the performers. "All that and in one take!"

"He's still hard," said Trixie.

"Yeah, I've never worked with a guy who could orgasm as much as you, 
Mike." said Linda.

"I think we've got his stage name," said Lenny. "Orgazmo."

"Hasn't that already been used?" asked Trixie.

"Yeah, well it fits him the best."

The rest of the day the crew went back to the Melrose Place apartments 
and finished setting up for the final shoot.

The final scene for the day takes place in Michael's apartment where he 
invites the girls back for some fun. Lenny had gone ahead of the rest 
to setup the lights and camera.

When they arrived back at Melrose Place, Lenny was just about finished 
getting the equipment setup.

"Ok, in this scene, Brad has invited the girls back to his place for a 
cocktail." said Gus.

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

BRAD HAS INVITED MARLA AND SARAH BACK TO HIS APARTMENT FOR A COUPLE OF 
DRINKS.

"WHAT A NICE APARTMENT YOU HAVE," SAID MARLA AS THEY ALL ENTERED.

"THANKS."

THE GIRLS WENT INTO HIS BEDROOM AND LAYED DOWN ON HIS BED WHILE BRAD 
WENT INTO THE KITCHEN TO FIX THE DRINKS. AS HE RETURNED, SARAH PICKED 
UP THE REMOTE CONTROL SITTING ON HIS NIGHTSTAND.

"GOT ANY PORNO WE CAN WATCH?" SHE SAID, PICKING IT UP.

DROPPING THE DRINKS, BRAD YELLED FOR HER TO STOP BUT IT WAS TOO LATE.

"YEAH, I WONDER WHAT'S ON TV," SAID MARLA.

SARAH PRESSED THE BUTTON ON THE REMOTE TO TRY TO TURN ON THE TV, 
INSTEAD SOMETHING WEIRD HAPPENED.

WHEN SARAH RELEASED THE BUTTON ON THE REMOTE, BRAD KEELED OVER ONTO THE 
FLOOR.

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

"Cut!" Said Gus.

"Oh my God!" screamed Linda. "Michael! Are you okay?"

He didn't move.

"Someone quick, give him CPR," yelled Lenny.

Trixie ran to call 9-1-1 as Gus ran over to give him mouth-to-mouth.

Everyone was hovered around him when Lenny accidentally stepped on the 
remote as he was pacing. His foot depressed the power switch on the 
remote which immediately brought him back to life.

"You're ok!" yelled Trixie.

"What happened?" he said, wearily getting up.

"You collapsed. We thought you had died," said Gus.

Michael remembered what happened, how the remote almost gave his secret 
away, and he knew he had to leave before his real secret was found out.

"I'll be back," he told the group.

"Where are you going?" asked Linda.

"I need some air; going for a walk."

And with cavalier footsteps, Michael picked up the remote, walked out 
the door and down the steps, and left Melrose Place; never to be heard 
from or seen again.

Hitchhiking

Michael walked around Los Angeles for several days trying to figure out 
what he was going to do next. From Compton to Beverly Hills he 
traversed the county searching for a purpose.

He was approached on several occasions by men and women looking for a 
quick lay, and narrowly avoided running into the clan from Melrose 
Place when he came up with the idea of heading north to San Francisco.

Alongside the highway he stood with no bags. Just his jeans and T-Shirt.

He prominently stuck out his thumb, poinint northward. For several 
minutes cars whizzed by him. One or two honked their horns when a big 
rig came from over the horizon and gradually slowed down.

The rig pulled off to the side and stopped just in front of him. 
Michael walked over, climbed up, and opened the door.

"Where you headed?" the driver asked. He was big, and burly.

"San Francisco."

"Hop in, I'm going to Alameda. I'll take you." he said.

Michael got in the cab of the 18-wheeler and the two sped off down the 
highway.

"So why are you going to San Francisco?" asked the driver.

"Looking to start over," he said.

They spent the next hour or so listening to the radio and talking about 
nothing in particular. Things started to go rough for Michael when the 
driver reached from under his seat and pulled out a batton.

"What are you doing with that?" he asked.

"This!" the driver yelled as he swung the batton and hit Michael on his 
head. The force of the blow caused his memory and CPU to crash and 
Michael was rendered unconscious.

Michael came to several hours later after his circuits reset and found 
himself naked on the ground in a forest. He tried to get up, but 
couldn't and looked down and noticed his limbs were severed.

"Help!" he cried out, as tiny sparks were still coming from his 
shoulders and hips.

"Good, you're awake," the man said coming from the bushes. He was 
holding Michael's left leg and was pulling on something causing his 
foot to flex up and down. "Care to tell me what the fuck you are?" he 
said tossing the leg next to him.

"I don't understand," Michael said.

"BULLSHIT!" the man yelled. "You're not human. What are you, some kind 
of alien or something?"

Michael said nothing, as he saw the man rummaging around.

The big rig driver got a pole about 3 feet tall, and about 2 inches in 
diameter and stuck it into the ground. He picked Michael up by his hair 
and shoved him down onto the pole, sticking it up into his ass.

As the rod impaled Michael up the ass, it triggered circuitry in him; 
the electronic version of a male's prostate gland. This caused Michael 
to become aroused and orgasm. Constantly. Michael's dick sprang to 
attention and he began ejaculating all over the place. Pulse after 
pulse he shot his load up and it fell onto the ground.

"Motherfucker," the man said. "FREAK!" and he ran off.

This went on for several hours, well into the night. Mutilated, he 
couldn't do anything but look down and watch. The only thing causing 
him not to go virtually insane was the he was having too much fun. With 
each shot of his load, Michael orgasmed again, and this pleasure was 
keeping him from feeling the pain.

Around midnight or so, Michael ran out of cum and his body was pumping 
dry. As the juices trickled and eventually stopped, Michael stopped 
feeling the orgasms which were consuming him for the many hours earlier 
and was starting to feel real pain.

Pain of the rod stuck in his ass. Pressure.

Pain of trying to shoot a load where none existed.

Now, instead of each pulse bringing him joy and pleasure; each pulse 
brought with it excruciating pain.

He let his mind wander to try not to think about the pain he was 
suffering and didn't notice the sunrise.

As the birds started to chirp, a flash of light and smoke came from 
nowhere and the devil woman appeared again before him.

"Michael," she said.

He didn't respond.

"Michael?!"

Again, nothing.

She reached down and grabbed his balls. "Michael!" she yelled.

Startled, he opened his eyes. "You!" he said angrily. "Did you do this 
to me?"

Laughing hysterically she replied, "Nope, this isn't my work but I'd 
sure like to meet the guy who did this to you."

He looked down and away from her.

"Don't you know smoking can be bad for your health," she said.

"What are you talking about, I don't smoke." he said.

"You are now," she replied running her fingers up his shaft. Smoke was 
starting to billow out his pee-hole as the pump inside him which caused 
him to ejaculate burned up from trying to pump air.

"Oh my god!" he yelled. "Make it stop! Make it stop!"

"How long have you been like this," she asked.

"About 14 hours or so."

She stepped around the rather large puddle of robo-cum which had 
completely surrounded him.

"What would you do without me?" she said, leaning over to lick his 
cheek. With a snap of her fingers, Michael's limbs were reattached. He 
stood upright, and pulled himself up, along with the pole which was 
still stuck up his ass, out of the ground.

"Dick on a stick!" the woman cried out. "I like this!" She snapped her 
finger again and he was sticking up in the air, the pole firmly in her 
grasp, as if she was holding a torch.

"Hey!" he yelled.

Again, the devil snapped her fingers. This time Michael was 1/10th his 
size as the Devil licked him from his balls to his head like a popsicle.

"Please!" he cried out again, his voice many many octaves higher.

"You sound like a chipmunk," she said giggling.

With one final snap, Michael was again his normal size and was standing 
in front of her, ankle deep in the puddle of cum.

"Yuck!" he said when he realized where he was standing, and jumped out.

He ran down to the stream at the bottom of the ravene, and dipped his 
feet in to wash off the glop. When he walked back up the hill, the 
devil was standing, talking on a cell-phone.

"Uh huh," she said. "You shoulda been here, it was hysterical."

He walked over to his clothes and began putting them on, and placed the 
remote in his back pocket.

Laughing, the Devil continued her conversation. "I'm telling you, Dick 
on a Stick! We should patent it."

Michael got dressed as she ended her conversation and flipped the phone 
close.

"That Lucifer," she said outloud. "What a character."

"I thought you were the Devil." he said.

"I am."

"Then aren't you Lucifer?"

"Hell, No!" she said with a chuckle. "Lucifer's my brother."

"Then who are you?"

"I'm Christine." She squatted down in front of him and took a piss. 
"So, where were you going?" she asked him as she got up.

"San Francisco." he replied; and with a snap of her fingers, he was 
there.

San Francisco, Here I Come...

As if Michael's troubles weren't bad enough, the devil was being 
exceptionally sadistic to him this time around.

In a flash Michael found himself in San Francisco, allright. Standing 
right in the middle of the Golden Gate Bridge between two lanes of 
traffic!

Cars immediately began honking and swerving as he appeared out from 
nowhere. Petrified he dodged the oncoming cars and semis and ran off to 
the side.

He walked the mile or so to the other side as cars continued to honk at 
him. Of course, no driver expected a pedestrian to be on this side of 
the bridge. It's amazing he never got hit while walking.

Then again, I wrote too soon.

Crossing the bay was the asshole truck driver who tried to kill Michael 
from before.

Recognizing the outfit Michael was wearing, he swerved to hit him; and 
with a loud "thunk" he struck Michael from behind and threw him several 
hundred feet down the ditch.

Michael was severely damaged as the result of the collision. His memory 
circuits were fried and his CPU was constantly resetting. He layed like 
this for several months before he was discovered by a junkman who 
brought him back to his yard.

"Whacha got there, Clark?" the old man said as the junkman dragged 
Michael from the back of his truck.

"Some kinda mannequin." he said. "Looks to be in pretty good shape, 
too."

"Well, set 'im up over there," the other man said pointing to a vacant 
spot in the yard.

For three years, Michael stood erect, outside in the weather. A 
thousand bird droppings later, a rather bohemian lady stopped by the 
junkyard looking for items for her new home.

As she walked through the yard, her eyes fell upon what she thought to 
be a rather handsome statue.

"How much for the statue," she asked the man.

"$50.00," he replied and with the stroke of a pen, she dragged Michael 
to her stationwagon and layed him inside.

She drove back to her house on Barbary Lane where she took him out and 
dragged him inside and stood him up in her kitchen.

"You need to be cleaned up," she said as she began cutting away his 
clothes. "My, pretty realistic you are." she thought aloud as she 
removed his underwear. "And gifted, too!"

She noticed the remote control still resting in his back pocket, set it 
aside, and threw his clothes in the trash. She got out rags and 
chemical cleaner and from bottom to top, she scrubbed every inch of his 
body, being careful not to scratch his skin.

Several hours later she finished, and she posed him like 
Michaelangelo's David, stuck his remote in his hand, and pulled him 
into her living room.

Several years went by and Michael stayed tucked in the corner, naked, 
and on a pedestal when the woman who rescued him from the junkyard met 
her demise, her daughter, Jennifer, came to take care of her mother's 
final affairs.

As most of the items in her mother's house were being auctioned off to 
pay the estate taxes, Jennifer took a special interest in Michael and 
brought him home.

Excited with her new found piece of art, she called her girl-friend to 
come over.

"What's so exciting," said Janet, walking into Jennifer's living room.

One couldn't miss him, he was standing right in the middle of 
Jennifer's living room.

"Oh my God!" she said aloud. "What is he?"

"Some statue my mom used to have," Jennifer said.

Janet walked over to him and ran her fingers over his chest. "Uh, 
Jennifer, I've never seen a statue like this before." Continuing, she 
glided her hands down to his crotch and began to fondle him. "He's so 
... real!" she concluded by pulling on Michael's cock and making it 
erect.

The two giggled and laughed as they fondled Michael some more.

"He's a regular Ken doll!" said Jennifer.

"I remember playing with Barbie when I was a kid, and I don't remember 
Ken ever being like this," said Janet.

For several more minutes the pushed and pulled, tugged and twisted just 
about every limb on his body.

"Hey, what's with the remote?" asked Janet.

"I'm not sure. It was in his hand when I picked him up from my mom's."

Janet spread his fingers apart and removed the remote. On a lark, she 
pressed the power button and Michael sprung back to life.

"Aiiieeee!" the two yelled as they ran from the room. "It's alive!"

Michael was still severely damaged from his collision 10 years ago and 
just stood there in Jennifer's living room.

Not hearing anything from the other room, Jennifer wearily peeked into 
the room from the security of the kitchen.

"What's he doing?" asked Janet.

"Nothing," she said. "He's just standing there."

Slowly, Jennifer walked towards him. He saw her and followed her with 
his eyes as she approached.

"Hello," she said as she walked up to him.

"Hello." he replied.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"What's your name?" he replied.

"I'm Jennifer."

"I'm Jennifer." he replied.

Janet started to laugh as she sat down on the couch in front of him. 
"He's like a broken record."

Not knowing what to do with him, Jennifer joined her friend on her 
couch as the two just stared up at him.

He did nothing while they were gawking and just stood silently staring 
back.

"Hey, this remote has a reset button." Janet said. "I wonder what it 
does if we press it."

And before Jennifer could tell her, "no," Janet aimed the remote at 
Michael and pressed the button.

Michael became stiff, and stood at attention. Slowly, he brought his 
arms out in front of his chest and brought his hands close together. 
Next, he rested his arms at his side and looked down at the two women 
in front of him.

"Hello," he said.

The two girls giggled and replied in unison, "Hi!"

"Where am I?" he asked.

"San Francisco."

"I remember something about San Francisco." he replied.

"You do?" Jennifer asked. "How much do you remember?"

"Difficult. Memory fragmented. Sex. Orgasms. Pussies." he replied.

"He's a fucking sex droid," said Janet.

"Maybe," Jennifer said. "But I'm not sure."

"Please!" Janet said. "Look at his cock! Would he have a 12 inch cock 
is he wasn't a sex droid?"

"I guess you're right."

"What is a sex droid?" Michael asked, listening to their conversation.

"A machine that provides pleasure," Janet replied.

"I like pleasure," Michael said.

"So do we!" said Janet.

Janet and Jennifer each took his hand and led him to Jennifer's room 
where they both stripped down and layed on her bed. Not really knowing 
what to do, Michael just stood there at the side of Jennifer's bed 
until Janet leaned over and pulled him down.

He helped somewhat when he realized they were trying to guide him up 
and onto the middle of the bed where he just layed as the girls flanked 
him on either side.

Janet stroked his hair as she gazed into his eyes. "He's the most 
gorgeous thing I've seen," she said.

While Janet was checking out Michael's hair, Jennifer was letting her 
fingers do the walking as she caressed his chest and stomach then let 
her fingers drift downwards.

"To think my mom thought you were a statue," she said, pulling on his 
shaft, giggling. "Do you remember anything while you were with my mom?" 
she asked, climbing on top of him.

"No," he said stoically.

"Well, it's just as well, I suppose," she said as Michael reached up to 
support her. Gently she glided his hard cock inside her as she let out 
a moan. "It's so big!" she gasped.

In fact, bits and bytes of Michaels' memory were coming back to him as 
his operating system attempted to repair the fragmented pieces of his 
memory.

Stills at first filled his head. Mosaiced, garbled. As each second 
passed however, more and more images became clear.

"Naked," he said softly outloud while Jennifer was riding him.

"Yes," she replied, gasping in ecstasy. "We're naked."

"No, me."

"You... unh... are... unh... too."

"Jennifer, STOP!" Janet said looking into Michael as his eyes moved all 
around in his head as thousands of frames were becoming defragmented 
and filling his view.

"One... more... minute," she exclaimed as the ecstasy built up inside 
her to climax. "Oh... God... Oh... Yes... Yes!!!! YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"My name is Michael," he said softly out loud. "What year is this?"

"2010," said Janet.

"Ten years," he replied. "I've been out for ten years."

Michael moved to get Jennifer off of him as he curled up into a fetal 
position on her bed.

"The devil!" he exclaimed. "Where is the devil?"

"There's no devil here," Janet said softly, stroking his cheek. He was 
obviously frightened.

"Trust me, she's not far," he replied. "She always shows up."

"I think he's still broken," said Jennifer.

"No broken!" Michael exclaimed jumping up out of the bed. He grabbed 
the remote and snapped it in half as he fled to a corner of the room 
and cowered. "No broken." he replied again.

"What do you remember?" asked Janet.

"Mutilation." he said shivering. "Filming. Cameras. Mutilation."

"Oh my God," said Jennifer. "That's horrible."

"Rod," he continued. "Impale. Rod."

"Someone named Rod impaled him?" asked Janet.

"I dunno, I guess so. I don't remember seeing any holes."

"Cum."

The two girls slowly walked towards him.

"Fucking. Sucking. Impale. Mutilation. Cameras. Lights. Film. 
Paintings. Money. New York. Die."

"What does it all mean, Jenn?"

"I don't know but I know someone who might." she said, getting up and 
putting on a robe.

Jennifer went into her kitchen and called her brother, Daniel, who was 
an Internet geek.

Daniel rushed over to his sister's house upon hearing of her discovery.

Jennifer's brother arrived in about twenty minutes. By this time, 
Michael's memories of the past several weeks of his consciousness had 
been restored and he was dealing with the emotional aftermath. At this 
state of his emotional existence it was uncertain whether he needed a 
shrink more than he needed a geek.

"Is that him?" Daniel asked, entering Jennifer's room looking at 
Michael still cowering on the floor.

"Yeah. He broke this, too," she said; picking up the remote which was 
snapped in two.

"A remote control! Cool!" he said, examining the pieces. "Looks like 
the ROM is still intact. If I can analyze the pulse frequency, my PAD 
should be able to duplicate it."

Walking over to him, he extended his hand. "Here, get up. I'm not going 
to hurt you."

Michael accepted Daniel's hand, and pulled himself up. Feeling shame 
and cowardice, he cupped his hands in front as the other three stood 
before him.

"An android that feels shame?" Daniel mocked. "This is no normal 
companion-droid."

Indeed! Michael was no normal android, period! Little did the three 
realize that Michael was in fact immortalized by the devil.

Jennifer didn't quite understand it, but she started to feel sorrow for 
the android standing in front of her. He was obviously scared, and 
obviously embarrassed being naked in front of everyone.

To get away from these feelings she was having, she got a robe which 
belonged to one of her old boyfriends and gave it to him to put on.

Thankfully, he accepted and turned away from Jennifer, Janet, and her 
brother, to put it on.

As his back was turned, he felt a very cold breeze overcome the room as 
he put his arms through the sleeves. Turning back around to face the 
three he saw her leaning against the wall on the other side of 
Jennifer's bedroom.

"Oh my God, No!" he screamed out. Jennifer and Janet rushed over to 
comfort him.

"What? What's wrong?" they said.

"She's here!" Michael cried out.

"Who's here?" asked Daniel.

"The devil," he replied, cowering in the corner.

"There's noone here." Daniel said. "I guess he's still malfunctioning."

"What do you want!" he cried out again.

The woman snapped her fingers and a cigarette immediately appeared in 
her hand.

"They can't see me you fool," she said walking over to him. "Get up 
before you embarrass yourself."

She reached under Michael's chin and lifted him up. "I've been 
searching for you for a long time." she said.

"I broke the remote, you can't hurt me." he replied.

"Do you honestly think a remote control can stop me?" she laughed with 
a cackle. With one final snap, Michael collapsed to the floor - 
unconscious.

"What happened?" asked Janet.

"I don't know, it appears he's shut down." said Daniel.

"Jen, help me get him into my car, I'm going to take him back to my 
place." he said.

The three carried him down to Daniel's car and layed him in the back 
seat.

Daniel left soon after and headed back to his house.

Disassembly

Christine's sadistic treatments of Michael were garnering the attention 
of Theresa. You see, Theresa was Michael's, or rather Martin's, 
guardian angel.

As it turned out, Christine wasn't the Devil, per se, but was a fallen 
angel who had succumbed to Lucifer's wilds. Her sadist treatments of 
others affected her all throughout her life, and afterlife. It's 
amazing how she got into Heaven to begin with.

A few weeks passed, and Christine stopped by Daniel's home to check on 
Michael and how he was doing.

He was layed flat on a large workbench with fluorescent shop lights 
suspended from the ceiling.

He was completely disassembled; his head detached from his neck and 
chest, the upper part of his skull and face removed, revealing two 
white orbs which are his eyes, directly above two rows of perfect 
teeth, bathed in a sea of servos and circuitry underneath.

All around flesh colored panels set stacked neatly and arranged.

Michael's endoskeleton was arranged, like an archaeologist examining an 
ancient skeleton, it's bright, shiny, aluminum rods, bundles and 
bundles of multi-colored wires, and tubes neatly in place.

Each limb was detached, as well as each joint. Some limbs and joints 
used eletromagnetic servos to provide motion, mainly in the outer 
extremities; while other limbs relied on hydraulic pressure to provide 
strength and lift.

Michael was created purely as a machine. Christine didn't try to 
duplicate human organs or bodily systems in him like others had tried 
to do with androids in the past, and had hopelessly failed. No, in fact 
Michael was the perfect machine. Operating at 99% energy efficiency, 
and giving off less than 1% in waste energy, the human body didn't even 
attain such goals.

Three months had passed since Michael collapsed that fateful day in 
Jennifer's apartment and she had stopped by her brother's house to see 
how he was going.

When she walked downstairs into his basement, which was actually an old 
nuclear fallout shelter, she was surprised at just how many parts there 
was to him.

"How's it going, bro?" she asked as she entered the room.

"Pretty good! I think I found out where the problem was," he said, 
peering over a circuit board with a magnifying light.

Jennifer roamed about the room as her brother worked. She picked up 
Michael's head, which at this point looked more like a prop from a 
movie than a person's head, and examined it.

Like a medical student nervously playing with a skeleton, she gently 
pulled his lower jaw down and pushed it back up. A faint whirr could be 
heard as the gears spun the servos.

"He looked so real," she thought out loud.

"Whoever designed him wanted him to pass for being human," Daniel said. 
"This technology, the microservos, are unlike anything I've ever seen 
or read about."

"Oh my God," she said, embarrassingly noticing Michael's genitals 
laying flat on the table between the two rods which made up his legs.

"What?" her brother replied wondering what she was remarking about. 
"Oh, as if I could only be so lucky," he said looking at his sister 
carefully examining Michael's privates.

"His balls actually move!" she said giggling.

"Of course they do."

"Well, I hadn't noticed the last time I saw him."

"So what makes him hard?"

"Huh?" her brother replied, preoccupied.

"You know, erect. What makes him erect?"

"Honestly, I haven't paid too much attention to his cock and balls 
these past months but I assume it's like human men, hydraulic."

"Oh, whatever that means."

She walked over to the table where her brother was working and stood 
against the wall watching. Nervously, and unconsciously, she placed the 
head of Michael's cock in her mouth and started licking and sucking on 
it.

Several minutes ensued while her brother had the circuit board attached 
to an oscilloscope and logic probe when he looked up and saw what his 
sister was doing. "Having fun?" he asked her.

She just cocked an eyebrow and gave him a puzzled look.

"You're giving him head, but he can't appreciate it yet."

"Oh!" she said giggling as she pulled Michael's cock away from her 
mouth. "I didn't even realize it."

"Uh huh."

Daniel had finished what he was working and inserted the circuit board 
back into Michael's head while Jennifer lay his genitals back where she 
found them.

"Grab me those wires, will 'ya?" he asked, pointing to two black and 
red wires coming from a variable transformer at the end of the table. 
Daniel connected the alligator clips to the corresponding wires 
protruding from the base of Michael's skull.

"Cross your fingers," he said. "Not sure how much voltage he takes so 
I'm going to play it safe." He flipped the switch to the transformer 
and set it to 12v DC.

Several seconds passed and nothing happened.

"Did you fry it?" his sister asked.

"Nah, undervoltage is a lot less damaging than overvoltage."

Daniel flipped another switch which set the transformer to 24v DC, and 
immediately the gyroscope in the middle of Michael's head started to 
spin at a very fast RPM.

"I think we got it," he said, resting Michael's head on two blocks.

Several more

seconds passed and the servos behind Michael's eyes twitched.

"What happened?" he said, his jaw and teeth moving slightly open.

Jennifer couldn't help but bust out laughing at the sight of Michael 
moving his eyes about. He looked like a bad ventriloquist's dummy.

"What's so funny?" Michael replied sternly.

"Let me show you," she said, reaching into her purse to pull out her 
makeup mirror.

She positioned it in front of his face and he said nothing for a few 
minutes as he peered at his reflection in the mirror.

"I look hideous," he finally replied. "This explains why I can't see my 
nose."

His nose wasn't there, but two tiny inlets just under his eyes.

"Killing power," Daniel said reaching over to flip the switch. Before 
Michael could ask him to stop, everything went blank, and he became 
lifeless.

"Why'd you do that?" asked Jennifer.

"I've discovered something interesting," her brother replied. "This is 
no ordinary android. Of course, I said that already, but really. This 
guy's got a soul and personality."

Jennifer crouched down next to her brother to look at the screen he was 
working on.

"See all this code?" he said. "This is his personality. Every nuance, 
every trait, machine coded. There's got to be gigabytes worth of code 
here."

"Cool. So what's all it mean?"

"It means he's the most advanced android in existence. Probably from 
the government or something."

Jennifer left to go to the gym and workout. Her brother continued 
fiddling with the display, and when finished, proceeded to reattach 
Michael's head and pieced him back together.

"So many wires!" he thought out loud to himself as he screwed the base 
of his head onto the neck mount.

Limb by limb he re-attached to his endoskeleton. Fortunately for 
Daniel, most of his wires, cables, and tubes were mated.

It took him a full eight hours to reattach all the limbs and wires, and 
he hadn't even started on the exterior covers yet.

Reaching for his PAD, he loaded the emulation program for the remote 
control and tapped the Power button displayed on the screen.

Instantaneously motors started to whirr within him, LEDs flashed 
throughout his head, chest, and torso, and servos started to whirr.

"Clickity-klak! Whirr! Beep! Beep! Beep!" emanated from within him as 
system after system powered up.

Michael twitched and became motionless as the servos and actuators 
continued to function.

"Michael," Daniel asked.

"Yes?" he replied. Depressed.

"Can you move?"

"I didn't realize you had put me back together." he said.

"Clickity-klak! Whirr! Vrrrrrrm!" as more servos engaged. "Whoosh!" his 
body sounded as his hydraulics became primed.

He sat up.

Looking down at himself, he could see the aluminum rods, and hordes of 
cables and wires running throughout him.

"I guess you didn't put me entirely back together," he said.

"I wanted to get you this far and see if I had everything right," 
Daniel replied.

"Yeah, I think so."

"Good, stay here. I've got to get some sleep."

And with that, Daniel left the bunker and went inside his house and 
collapsed.

Michael spent the rest of the evening piecing himself back together by 
applying the exo-panels across his body.

When he finished, he looked at himself in the mirror and saw the same, 
familiar face.

As he turned back around to find something to wear, appearing in a 
cloudy, white light was someone he hadn't seen before.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"I'm Theresa, your guardian angel."

He stood there for a moment and didn't move. Thoughts and emotions ran 
through his head.

"But," he stammered to say.

"Rather, I'm Martin's guardian angel."

"I used to be Martin," he replied, bowing his head in sorrow.

"I know. And I know what you did, too." she said softly.

Deliverance

He couldn't help but cower on the cold, concrete floor.

"Martin," she said softly. "I know what you did, and what you've been 
going through."

"I'm sorry." he replied.

"It's okay, my child. If you're ready, I'm here to take you home."

"No more devil?" he asked.

"No, and no more torture."

He stood up slowly as the woman walked towards him and gently embraced 
him.

"I'm ready." he said.

She reached up and gave him a kiss on his cheek. With each second her 
lips stayed pressed against him, he felt a warmth he hadn't felt in a 
very long time encompass his body.

"My heart! I can feel my heart-beat!" he said joyously.

"Yes."

He ran over to the workbench and gently picked up an exacto knife. 
Pricking his finger, he noticed the small bead of blood forming at the 
fingertip.

"I'm bleeding!" he said. He was overjoyed.

"Yes, you are." she said with a smile.

"Oh, thank you!" he said. "I'm human again."

Michael spun around in sheer jubilance but a slow coldness started.

Stumbling, he lost his balance and found it increasingly more difficult 
to breathe and fell to the floor.

"What's happening to me?"

"I told you, I'm here to take you home," she said.

The room started to spin, and he could feel a numbness and tingling in 
his fingers.

With one last breath, Michael had died.

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

Let me know what you think! Email Me! This story is available at the 
following places: 
* http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/cyberczar/www/ * 
* http://public.stories.com/?cyberczar * 
* mailto:cyberczar@freedom.net *

Copyright (c) 2000-2001. All Rights Reserved.

________________________________________________________________________
Protect your privacy! - Get Freedom 2.0 at http://www.freedom.net

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html>  Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Archive: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository |
|<http://www.asstr-mirror.org>, an entity supported entirely by donations.         |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+