Companion
Part 1
"Come on Lee, at least consider it!"
"No, George, it's not going to happen. If you want me to finish this book, you're going to have to give me a little space." George, my editor at Redstone Press knew I had him over a barrel. I was one of their top authors, delivering a best seller every year for the past five and even managing to bag a prestigious Golden Pen award in 2039 for my third book, "Wilder at Large."
"Okay, okay. I give up, but I just don't get it. You live alone, you work alone and now you want to use the company retreat so you can be even more alone?"
"Exactly," I said, though it was clear he didn't have a clue what I was talking about. "This city is just too noisy and too full of people. If you want me to finish this book on time, I just need a little space."
From what I'd heard, Redstone Press maintained a very private and very posh cabin in the mountains of upstate New York. It was just what I was looking for - secluded, peaceful and comfortable. I could stretch my legs, enjoy nature and finish the book.
"You do want me to finish this damned thing, don't you, George?" I smiled, because I knew I had him cornered.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, go up there and bond with nature or whatever and finish it. But this had better be one hell of a book."
"Don't worry, it'll be a masterpiece."
"I'm not looking for a fuckin' masterpiece, Lee, I'm looking for a god-damned blockbuster. I've got grand kids to feed."
I rose from my chair and exited George's office, giving a little wink to his secretary Phyllis before walking to the elevator. "Phyllis, the damned coffee's cold again!" I heard him yell to her as the doors closed. Having to come downtown for my monthly meeting with George and fight the traffic and the crowds was a pain, but pissing him off was reward enough, at least for this trip.
He'd agreed to my use of the cabin for the next month or so to finish my latest opus, another installment in my Adam Wilder detective series. George didn't really have a problem with me using the company retreat, it only took a few phone calls to clear it with the big-shots, but he'd been concerned with my going up there alone.
George was right, I do live alone and work alone, but that's the way I like it. Call me a recluse, but I'm just not a people person. I'm very comfortable observing people or writing about them, that's the easy part. When you're writing about people you can get them to do anything you want, you just have to work out the motivations. Real life on the other hand is an entirely different matter. People were just too much work.
He'd suggested I consider taking a Companion with me, but I had shot that idea down quickly and firmly. "No way in hell," was said more than once. These Companion androids had been around for several years now, but I had no interest in a "bionic buddy" or worse yet a "chip chick," which from what I understood was the digital equivalent of a prostitute. As Adam Wilder said once in one of my books, "If want sex, I'm not about to have it with someone that has Nintendo tattooed on their ass."
I will admit that I went to the Companion Center one day last week. I'd told myself that I was only doing research for the book, but I was also a little curious. George had pestered me about it on the phone when I'd first brought up the subject of borrowing the cabin. He'd said I was crazy for wanting to go up there all by myself. "Get yourself a Companion," he'd said, "a hot little number to push all your buttons," he'd said, "we can even write it off on the expense account, no problem." Yeah right. Just my luck, it would have a fatal system crash right in the middle of things, and just how do you reboot a robot, anyway? Pull its ear and push in its belly button?
When I'd gone in a very well groomed older man approached me and started up the subtle sales talk. After a little mindless chitchat he took me to a private office in the back and got down to business. I'd given him the bare minimum of personal information to get the process started and even lied about a few details just to get through it all. Why is it these people want to know every bit of information about you? No, no, no, they didn't need to know my birth date, phone number or the name of my maiden aunt's pet hamster. My private life is just that, private. You want to sell me something, here's the cash, now leave me alone.
He grumbled a bit at my reluctance to answer all his questions, but then continued. "So, what kind of Companion would you like?"
"Well, a friend is going on an extended trip to the mountains and would like someone to go along and help take care of a few things. Just the basics, cooking meals and that sort of thing. Nothing fancy, She's not looking for someone who can do cartwheels while translating Gone With The Wind into six foreign languages, just someone who won't burn the toast in the morning."
"So, you're seeking a Domestic Companion for your, um, friend. We can program the Companion with your her favorite menus and all her other preferences. How about we discuss visual features. I'm assuming you're seeking a female Companion, is that correct?"
I paused. Maybe that was a mistake, but visions of one of those Digital Divas popped into my head, some Playboy fantasy of a woman with tits the like volcanoes erupting from a black vinyl maid's uniform two sizes too small. I could feel my stomach turning. "No," I said, almost in a panic. "No," I said more calmly, "I don't really need the complication of a female. For my friend, I mean."
"Certainly, certainly," the salesman said, "a male, mid-twenties let's say, athletic in case your 'friend' decides to go on hikes in the woods, you did say you'd be staying at a mountain retreat, right? I think we can get you exactly what you're looking for. How about we look at a few samples?"
He took me into another room with white walls and empty except for two simple chairs along one side. One by one, a series of men or robots or androids or whatever you want to call them proceeded to enter from a side door. They'd stand in the center of the room and pose there, for my inspection. The whole process freaked me out, they looked so real and yet so empty inside. They just stared out into space, as if I wasn't there.
"Go ahead, don't be afraid to inspect the model," the salesmen said casually. "This one's from our Celebrity line and is modeled after an old movie star named Brad Pitt, before he gained all that weight and went bald." The salesman shuddered in an exaggerated manner to further emphasize the unpleasant image of Pitt's transformation into the twenty-first century's answer to Marlon Brando.
"You know, I think need more time to think about this," I said and got the hell out of there as quickly as I could. I wasn't interested in a bionic Brad Pitt, bald or otherwise.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The trip to the cabin was a pleasant one. I went up on a Tuesday, leaving mid morning so as to avoid the rush hour traffic. As always, Phyllis' notes were impeccable and I found the place without so much as a single wrong turn. I'd have to remember to bring her something back as a token of my appreciation.
George had been right, the place was isolated, miles from the nearest small town and sitting on a hillside surrounded by trees. It was mid-fall and the leaves were in full color, glistening from the rain earlier in the day. I climbed out of the sport utility vehicle I'd rented and grabbed my bags and slowly walked up the front steps, enjoying the smell of fresh, unpolluted mountain air.
George had been right about another thing, the place was huge. Not so much a cabin as a mini-
mansion made in the form of a log cabin. Built anywhere else, it would have been imposing, but in this setting surrounded by all the trees it fit right in.
The place was even more impressive on the inside. I dropped my two bags just inside the door and wandered around, surveying my temporary new home. The main living area was two-stories high with a kitchen and dining area off to one side and in the back were a set of rustic stairs that lead up to what I assumed were the bedrooms on the second floor. There were a set of huge windows that ran the full length of the living room and looked out onto a deck and further out into the woods. Not a person in sight. I was in heaven.
As I stood there basking in the beautiful view, I heard a cough behind me. Turning in the direction of the unexpected noise, I was surprised to see a man standing there. He was tall, slender and looked to be in his mid-twenties with short dark hair and steel-blue eyes.
"Hello," he said as if he were expecting me.
"Who the fuck are you," I replied, instinctively defending my new turf.
"My name is James," he answered gently, almost timidly, I'm here awaiting the arrival of Miss Lee O'Hara."
"What?" I said, confused by his answer. "My name is James," he repeated before I interrupted him. "No, you don't understand, I'm Lee O'Hara," I said.
"Oh," he whispered with a confused look on his face, "I see."
"What's going on here?" I asked.
"Didn't you get the greeting?" he asked, nodding his head in the direction of the long table that ran behind the big leather couch in the center of the large open room. Looking at it more closely I saw a small computer screen, the indicator light blinking in the corner. I walked over to it and tapped the front of the display.
"Hey, Lee, I see you made it!" It was a recording if George, the fucker was up to something. "I know you've been looking forward to this trip, but I think we've come up with something that will make it even more enjoyable." I panicked. What the hell had George done?
"Phyllis is out on her lunch break, so I called up Companion Services and ordered you up their top of the line model with all the bells and whistles. I even told them to make it one from their celebrity line. You know how much extra they wanted for that, Lee? Damn, but I'm sparing no expense when it comes to your pleasure, buddy, so enjoy."
That fucker, I'll kill him. I glanced over to the robot that was standing silently in the corner, doing his best to blend in with the woodwork. "What did you say your name was again?" I barked out.
"James, James Marsden," he said.
I looked at him more closely this time. He looked familiar, but I couldn't quite place him. George had said that he was modeled after some celebrity, but which one I wasn't quite certain. Then images from those antique entertainment systems flashed into my mind. Something from science fiction or those old comic books, perhaps. X-Files? No. X-Men? Yes, X-Men was it; he was from some turn of the century movie before they went holographic.
I turned back to the screen to listen to the last of George's recorded message. "The funny thing is, Lee, when I called them up at the service they said they already had you on file. And you said you wanted nothing to do with a Companion! You dirty dog. Okay, enjoy yourself, I'll see you in a month." The picture dimmed as the power light on the display flickered off.
"Fuck," I said, to no one in particular.
"Sir, I know this might not be the best time to bring it up, but there may have been a mistake here," James the robot interjected.
"Now there's an understatement."
"It's just that my profile was set up to be of service to a Miss Lee O'Hara, if you understand me correctly."
"Look, James, or whatever your name is, I came here to be alone, not to be pestered by some robot."
"I can assure you sir, I'm only here to be of assistance to you, if I'm not what you want, we can contact the Companion Center and I can be replaced."
I could picture the whole thing, calling the Companion Center, dealing with all the questions about *why* I don't like the robot, what kind of robot do I want, having to answer some damned 50 question customer satisfaction survey and then arranging for the pickup and being hassled because I'm in the middle of nowhere. Just the way I wanted to start my working vacation.
"No, no," I said, "I'm not going through that nightmare. I guess we're stuck with each other."
"Sir?"
"Look, James, this wasn't my idea, and I'll be damned if I'm gonna spend the next three hours on hold listening to Barry Manalow and waiting to talk to some rude customer service rep who'll tell me I'll have to wait three weeks before someone can come out here and fix this mess."
"Oh."
"I'll make you an offer, you stay out of my way and I won't send you back to the warehouse to be put in cold storage. Is it a deal?"
"Deal," he said, reluctantly agreeing with my logic.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The rest of the day worked out well, James unpacked for me then fixed a bit of lunch and an excellent dinner. I'd told him a few of my preferences for meals and coffee in the morning and he'd taken care of the rest. The company had stocked the kitchen well so he had plenty of supplies from which to choose. All in all, he'd done exactly what I'd asked, staying out of my way as I'd set up my computer on a desk in the living room and worked on the book until dinner time. It wasn't until we were wrapping up our meal that my writer's curiosity got the better of me.
"You're an android, right?"
"We prefer Companion, sir." I'd told him to call me sir or boss, so that our roles would be clear.
"Right, so you're programmed to do whatever I tell you to do, is that correct?"
"As long as we remain lawful and do not harm to others."
"So if I asked you to stand on your head, you'd do it?"
"You're the boss.!" He said with a laughing enthusiasm. It was exactly what I wanted to hear. Then he added, "Basically, sir, I want what you want. Your wish is my command." He smiled at me with a broad, coy grin and a dangerous glint in his eye.
"But you wouldn't rob a bank, is that right?"
"Right, sir."
I hesitated to ask my next question, still uncomfortable with the idea of talking to someone who seemed real, but wasn't.
"Earlier you said you were programmed for a Miss O'Hara, not a Mr. O'Hara. What did you mean by that?"
"Well, sir, I am capable of providing the full range of companionship services. Your satisfaction and pleasure is of utmost importance to me."
"Services?"
"I am here to meet your physical as well as emotional needs, sir."
My stomach sank to my knees. I knew that there were female companions designed as little more than computerized blow-up dolls, but males? It wasn't something I'd really allowed myself to consider.
"So you can do that?" I asked, nervously.
"Yes sir."
"And you're, um, ana, ah, anatomically correct?"
"Yes, sir."
"But what about that Miss versus Mister business?" I asked the question in little more than a whisper.
He grimaced. "Yes, sir, as I stated when we first spoke, there must have been a misunderstanding, my profile is optimized for a woman."
"I see." I paused, collecting my thoughts. "But you said earlier that you would do whatever I told you to, except commit a crime, of course."
"Yes, sir."
Reluctant to pursue the conversation any further, I took one last sip of my drink and said, "Well, it's getting late, I think I'll call it a night. You can finish the dishes and then turn in."
"Yes, sir."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
My conversation with James threw me for a loop. So many thoughts were running through my head that I could barely keep up with them. He looked so real, like anyone else you'd meet on the street, aside from the fact that he was incredibly hansom, and yet he would do practically anything I told him to do, even something that was against his nature. I could control him, like my own little puppet, my own little robot. But I'd come here for peace and quiet, not for this kind of distraction, no matter how fuckably cute that distraction might be.
I was getting ready for bed, having stripped down to my boxer shorts and t-shirt when there was a knock at the bedroom door.
"Sir," I heard James through the closed door.
"Come in," I said, thankful for something to take my mind off the moral and intellectual battle going on in my head.
"Do you require anything else this evening?"
I paused, considering my options. Could I really do this? Could I? Playing for time, I cleared my throat. "Sure, James," I wanted to say, "bend over and spread 'em." But I didn't. I could do anything I wanted to with this Companion; he was completely within my control. But could I? Could I really do it?
I looked at him with steely resolve. "Strip."
"Yes, sir."
I watched patiently as he slowly removed his clothing and piled it neatly in a chair tucked into the corner of the room; his movements were illuminated only by the small lamp on the nightstand, but I could still clearly make out his lean, muscular form. He was in perfect shape, without an ounce of fat on his body. He was defined without being overly muscular and his movements were confident and relaxed. His pecs were outlined by a slight shadow that led down to a distinct six pack. Though his forearms and legs were covered in a noticeable amount of hair, his chest was smooth.
After removing all his clothes except for a pair of black boxer-briefs, he paused, standing motionless in the middle of the room. I took my time and walked slowly around him, studying his body. Whoever had designed him had done an impeccable job.
I paused and studied the shapes and contours of his tightly clinging underwear that was accentuated by the blackness of the fabric. The nervous energy that was building up in my chest came out in a loud, deep-voiced command, "All of it."
Without speaking, he reached down and slid the briefs down his hairy legs, tossing them onto the chair.
This Companion was sculpted like an Adonis. His ass was perfectly shaped, tight and firm. I placed my hand on his shoulder and commented, "very good." It was the first time I'd actually touched him. He felt real, like actual human flesh, warm and responsive. He was perfect in every way. As I ran my hand down his back, I could feel him tense slightly. When my hand reached his ass, I cupped his cheek in my hand. "Very good," I repeated. I was getting off on the power of controlling him, molding him with my own hands.
It was time to see the full monty. I walked around and sat on the bed, taking in the view of his full naked form. His package hung naturally between his strong legs and was framed by a full, if somewhat trimmed bush. "Excellent," I stated. I was pleased that he wasn't shaved to within an inch of his life like some two-bit porn star.
"Are you sure about his sir?" he asked, speaking for the first time. "You can update my profile if you wish."
"Do you know what a blow job is, James?" I asked, disregarding his request.
"Yes, sir."
"You've experienced this pleasure then?" He said nothing, but nodded in agreement. "Tell me about it."
"Sir?"
"Tell me what makes a good blow job."
"Well, sir," he said nervously, his eyes wide, "what would you like to know?"
"Do you like it when she takes all of you in her mouth?"
"Yes."
"What else do you like?"
"The tongue, sir."
"What about the tongue?"
"Well, you know, when uses her tongue on the underside, or around the, um, the, head, sir."
"Good, good, what else?"
"Variety is nice, not just up and down, but other stuff too."
"Do you like to have your balls sucked, James?"
"Yes." He blushed noticeably and tilted his head down.
"I do too, James. So you know what you like, don't you."
"Yes, sir."
"Then I'd like you to demonstrate for me."
"Sir?"
"I want you to prove that you know what a blow job is."
"Prove it?"
"Yes, I want you to show me."
"Show you, sir?"
"On your knees, James."
He knelt in front of me, looking into my eyes nervously.
" You've had women suck you off before, right?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then use that knowledge to demonstrate to me what a good blow job is."
He looked down at the bulge growing in my boxer shorts and took in a hesitant breath. His hand reached up and came to rest on my crotch.
"Are you sure, sir?"
"Suck it."
His hand reached in and took out my half-hard cock. The light from the nightstand glistened off the precum leaking from the head. He stroked it and took it in his fist, seemingly to try and measure it. Taking a deep breath, he put the head of it in his mouth.
The moist heat from his lips was like a warm blanket surrounding my cock. As the head passed over his lips, a surge of electricity pulsed through my body. I watched in amazement as he slowly worked as much of it into his inexperienced mouth as he could, then slowly withdrew it. He was careful to avoid unwanted contact with his teeth and began the methodical blow job. This guy must have been very observant because he was doing one hell of a job for a first-timer. As my dick grew to full size in his mouth, he had greater difficulty getting it all in, but he did his best.
"Use your tongue," I commanded. He pulled me out of his mouth and played with my cockhead. "And don't forget the balls."
He reached into my boxer shorts and pulled my balls out, then took each one into his mouth in turn, all the while looking up at me with those sad puppy-dog eyes. The combination of the sexual stimulation and the power trip of controlling him was getting me close, but I didn't want this to end.
"That's enough," I commanded. "Now stand up."
He did as he was told, wiping the saliva from the corner of his mouth. "Go into the bathroom and get my shaving kit." He turned silently and walked to the bathroom. I stood up and removed my boxers, my manhood standing at full attention in front of me, its thrusting form creating playful shadows that danced along the far wall. After a few moments he returned with the small bag of toiletries in his hand.
"Now lay down on the bed, on your stomach."
"Yes, sir."
It was amazing watching his lithe, muscular form move gracefully across the room and over to the bed. Every inch of him seemed to be perfect in shape and proportion like some artistic nude rendering come to life.
I waited for him to get in position, then sat down on the bed and rummaged through my shaving kit until I found the small bottle of baby oil. I took it out and tossed the kit onto the floor.
"Spread your legs."
He did as he was told, as I crawled onto the bed and took up position between his lean, muscular calves. I took the cap off of the bottle and poured a little of it onto my fingers. I placed the bottle in the small of his back then commanded, "Spread your cheeks."
"What?" he asked, confused.
"Put your hands on your ass and spread your cheeks."
Following my every order, he did as he was told. I reached down with my lubricated fingers and placed them in between his spread ass cheeks. I quickly found his hole and let my fingers swirl in the small hairs that surrounded it. Taking another hit from the bottle, I moved down and began to play with his balls. Reaching further under him I was able to grab hold of his cock and stroked it with my greasy fingers. It didn't take long for him to get hard. He moaned quietly as I stroked him. From the feel of him in my fist, I guessed that he had an ample endowment, but it wasn't his cock I was most interested in.
"Do you like that?"
"Yes, sir."
"What about this?" I asked, swirling two fingers around his puckered sphincter. Ready to take it further, I pushed into him with my index finger. As it entered him, he let out a deep gasp. Slowly, I worked the full length of it into him then worked in a second finger, increasing my pace with each stroke. With my free hand, I slapped him on the ass.
"I asked you a question, do you like that?" I dug into him as deeply as I could with a fast stroke of my middle finger.
"Yes, sir," he said through gritted teeth.
"I want to fuck you, James, it would give me great pleasure. Would you like that James?"
"Sir?"
"Do you want me to fuck you, James?"
"Oh, god!" he cried out as my fingers continued to thrust rapidly in and out of his ass.
"Oh god, what?"
He moaned, as his body writhed under my control. I could feel his whole body trembling as my finger penetrated in and out of his hot, slick hole.
"Do you want me to fuck you, James?"
"Yes, sir," he said, sounding nearly exhausted.
I spread his legs further apart, then placed the head of my cock just at his pink entrance. Leaning over him, I whispered in his ear, "I want to fuck you, James, but you have to say please first."
"Sir?"
I pushed the tip of my cock against his entrance, teasing him with it. "Say please, James."
"Please sir, please!"
I drove into him hard and fast. My fingers had done their job and loosened him up sufficiently so that I could give him all of my stiff cock in one fell stroke. We were both sweating heavily now, as our bodies rubbed against one another. He took me into him eagerly as each of my downward thrusts was met by an equal upward movement by his ass. He was hot and tight and slick and more real than any other man I'd fucked before. I lay on top of him and slammed into his ass like there was no tomorrow. Our bodies intertwined and were quickly covered in our shared sweat. I wrapped my arms under his chest and pressed the full force of my body into his. Within a few minutes I was overcome and exploded deep within his ass. He clinched tightly around me and we both screamed out into the darkness.
Finally, I collapsed on top of him, then turned, holding him in my arms so that we lay in a spoon position, my cock still buried inside him. Reaching down, I felt for his cock and was greeted with the sticky residue of his orgasm. Squeezing the head, I used the remaining drops of cum to stroke his cock one last time. He moaned in agreement.
I lay there for a few minutes considering the enormity of the day's events. I'd been given a new toy, something or someone to play with for the next four weeks and his name was James Marsden. I was going to enjoy every minute of our time together and make full use of him. But then a thought occurred to me. I wondered if the Companion Service delivered? I'd remembered that movie he'd starred in based on some comic book or other. What was that other guy's name? Hugh Jackman? What a perfect name and what a perfect Companion for James.
After a few minutes I drifted off to sleep, James still in my arms.
Go to Part 2