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You’re in the elevator. The fish minion by your side sniffles, yawns, picks at the spikes on his leather gloves, and adjusts the fit of his helmet and goggles. He appears to be preparing for something annoying. You’re almost at the top floor, and when you reach it, the elevator buttons glitter and blink. Outside of the elevator, you hear the start of cracking-loud laughter. It is the sound of comically unadulterated glee. You don’t know what a cartoon villain is, but if you did, you would immediately recognize this auditory hallmark of some evil, hysterical smile, even from behind the metal-grade door. The fish minion cringes. There are plenty of ways to interpret the implications of his facial expression, and none of them feel reassuring. But you can’t be certain. After all, it is your first day of consciousness. It is time to learn your purpose.The elevator doors open. The room is awash with red, with a massive framed window making up the entire wall at the other end of the room. You can see the motion of metal factory claws dutifully squashing something into the shape of a crab on the other side of the industrial glass. In the room itself, a bright green globe glows with intel, floating in some kind of gaseous tube. This room is surprisingly sparse for being on the very top floor. The elevator ride felt very long, and it's nice to be able to feel as though the ground is solid metal and motionless beneath your feet. Still, if you concentrate your weight, you can feel the sway of the entire skyscraping tower, and you can feel heat as hot as the Sun emanating from the walls. Better not look at any windows facing the outside. Better not develop a fear of heights or fire on your first day alive.Almost everything on this floor is thick metal, and the laughter imposes itself on it, ricocheting around the room. You blink. This place is brand new to you. Glancing at the fish-minion, it appears to be just another regular, stupid day for him. He inhales, looking at the back of a massive figure crouching in front of the window facing the factory. The figure giggles and murmurs to itself, pushing its black fingers against the glass. You instinctively shy away, tiptoeing behind the fish minion, who then coughs pointedly. Like a black bullet, the figure shoots up straight and jerks around, and you are able to take in the first sight of its face.It’s a man. His face is a guitar, and his body is huge, agile-looking, and teeming with metallic muscle. Even his colors are masculine; he is all red, black, and silver, opulent, huge, and rich. His long, fretboard neck disappears in a golden glow at his shoulders. The silver space-armor around his shoulders shimmers like blades. You stare openly at the man, having not yet been taught manners. But don’t worry; neither has he.The man opens his mouth. “Hey, dum-dum!” he screams, the guitar strings on his face vibrating with the force of his uninhibited rage. His expression is completely twisted with fury and it takes you aback. Two silver instances of shoulder armor jut out far into the air. “I don’t remember sending for you!”The fish minion takes a deep breath and makes the “rock” sign with both of his fists, displayed across his chest in an apparent show of reverence. “Nordic Bunny sir. Ruler of the Galaxy and Nightmare to Humanity. You requested to view the Companion prototype. I’ve accompanied this Companion up 399 flights of stairs to give you an overview and tutorial of its features.”“Oh yes, I remember now,” says Nordic Bunny, touching his eyebrow and wandering over, the fury immediately fading from his face. His body swaggers with the grace of a cat and the brutality of a lunatic, and his commandeer hat wobbles slightly between the prongs of his guitar-shaped-head. “Thank you, then. Be prompt, you little mo! I’m watching my crabs.”You can’t stop looking at Nordic Bunny. Is he wearing makeup? His eyes blaze with self-importance and ambition. You haven’t even noticed his tightly-whities yet. “Yes sir,” says the fish minion, pulling out a flash card he was meant to read. “We determined that this project would require high-quality materials to be acquired off-base, due to its personal nature. Because you did not provide very much specific instruction-””Because I was crying!” Nordic Bunny says irritably, throwing up his hands in exacerbation. “With loneliness!””Yes, you were crying with loneliness when you made the request,” says the fish minion monotonously, looking up from the cue card. “We were aware this was a top-priority mission. We used Earth’s ‘internet’ service to research and aid with the blueprints, and scrounged the planet’s for top-caliber metals for its manufacture.”“Oh, yeah?” says Nordic Bunny. He hasn’t even looked at you yet. When the fish minion said the word “Earth”, Nordic Bunny’s head seemed to involuntarily twist to look at the green, floating globe fixture near the elevator. He seems fixated on it, his face beaming with scheme. What could be so special about the Earth?“This Companion was constructed using perfect-grade steel, silicone, aluminum, titanium, and small amounts of tungsten. The metals were expertly blended in order to combat the event of steel corrosion, and anodized for maximum color-accuracy. The Companion has six revolute joints in each arm and eight in each leg, all of which are capable of motion at varying speeds for any activity. They are rigidly connected for both durability and flexibility. Most of the center of the Companion is silicone, for optimum comfort. The hair is genuine threaded angora rabbit-hair. The Companion contains three micro-computers in the chest, head, and genital area, which interconnect to-”Nordic Bunny leans back, groaning, his body flexing. He interrupts the verbal take-apart of your inner workings, all of which is news to you. “Gah! The Com-blah-yah does this,” he spits, getting in the fish minion’s face, “The Com-bloo-guh is that. I only want to know a few things, idiot.” He holds up his fingers, counting off. “Is it going to help make me Imperial Emperor? Is it gonna get in the way of my fantastic villainy? Is it gonna hang out with me? Is it gonna babysit my stupid crabs? Is it gonna be my buddy? Will it make me God?” He grips the ends of his tattered cape, screaming, his fist inches from the fish minion’s skull. You wonder if the fish’s helmet would really do anything to protect him from the wrath of this guy. He is really huge.“Yes, sir,” says the fish minion, looking startled. “Well, we, um cannot be certain about-”“Yes! You said yes to all those things,” Nordic Bunny grins broadly, thrilled, forgetting he asked a negative question between the barrage of positive ones. The speed and momentum at which his emotions switch is something you take critical note of. You feel as though you may currently be in danger. The feeling pumps in your chest. Could this terror really be made up of simple code? You’re an animal in a trap. Worse, you were built in a trap, and then brought to consciousness. What the hell kind of name is Nordic Bunny? Inside you, however, something else swirls in the chaos. Something very akin to interest. You were built to learn about this man with a guitar for a face.“Hee hee!” Nordic Bunny trills, unaware. “I’m just ecstatic! I can’t wait to rule the entire universe and have it love me back! Well, where is this little Comp-onion that my minions have built purely for my happiness?”The fish minion steps aside, pulling you carelessly by the arm to face your new master. “Right here, sir.”“Don’t pull it like that!” Nordic Bunny shouts. “That’s my new toy, jerk!” He finally meets your wary gaze. His pupils swim in the red sea of his eyes.At first, he doesn’t seem to be able to register what he’s looking at. Something about you has caught him off-guard. His face is frozen with disbelief. Suddenly, it melts into a flustered, indignant color. The red strings on his face vibrate once, the shiver of the strings traveling up and down. “YOU MORONS!” he wails, grabbing you by the shoulders. He starts to frantically blow cool air on your face. “You- you have brought a human being into the depths of my domain? Here, it reaches temperatures one hundred degrees hotter than the Sun! This human is going to die right now!” He continues to huff and puff in your face, blowing your hair back with its slight force. “Fuhh! Damnit! Bring me some Goddamned ice!” He stares into your eyes, rattled with premature grief and dismay, and he splutters out what must be a last resort, while still blowing air, his lips close to your mouth. He shuts his eyes, praying, “Oh, Rock Gods of the Heavenly Shredding Domain, Please Bring This Mosh-Ready Human Being Beneath The Awesome Wings Of Your Salvation- ”“Sir!” the fish minion says in confusion. “This is a robot intended to emulate the appearance of a member of humanity. It is not human, and it was built to survive this extreme heat alongside you.”Nordic Bunny ceases puffing air desperately into your face and turns pink with rage. You stare at him, wondering what survival instincts your programming has been instilled with. You hope that something is going to keep you alive here. You realize, relief rushing around you, that Nordic Bunny’s anger was not directed at you. He releases your shoulders. He turns, and towers as though he is a God, over the trembling, already remorseful fish minion. “Were… you… dummies trying to trick me?” he says, his voice oddly low and clipped. “You’ve created a perfect likeness of human beauty in, in order to deceive me and frighten me?”“No! Sir!” The fish minion splutters. “We know how… well, how fascinated you are with humanity, and how their- their doting relationships between each other are a source of… of much envy, sir! We’ve programmed-”“No more!” Nordic Bunny grips him by the neck. Something that fish minion said has stung him, though you can’t tell what. “Shut up!” He pauses, deflating, the white ribs around his body closing in. He give the impression of having been defeated by his own self. Of having defeated himself. “Just- just bring me- no, us, something to drink.” he slowly spins to look at you, still choking the fish. “We need to cool things down around here.” He drops the fish minion, who falls to the floor with a splat-bang, the sound of the armor hitting the floor reverberating. The fish minion coughs, gasps, nods his head, taking the order, and scurries away. “Oh, sorry,” Nordic Bunny says sheepishly. “I didn’t let you order anything. I can just buzz him back up. Or I think if I scream loud enough, he’ll hear me. Usually they hear me.”“That’s okay,” you murmur your first words. “I’m all right.”He pauses, taking in your voice. His expression changes from annoyance, confusion, absorption, apprehension, shyness. It’s amazing, all the faces that a guitar can make. His mission visibly shifts, and he decides that wants to be a good host to you, his new toy. “Do you like wine? We can get white wine. Its grapes were crushed with the fury of a thousand moshers.” He looks around for a chair, and finding a fold-up metal seat, picks it up with two fingers and drops it confusedly in front of you. “Uh, here.”“Thank you,” you oblige, sitting primly with your hands in your lap. “Thank you very much, Nordic Bunny. I’m prepared to accompany and serve you across worlds however you see fit.” You grimace; this is your programmed introduction? From what little you know about him, Nordic Bunny does not take kindly to sniveling servants. You stir, concerned with self-preservation. But for some reason, this is a success. He flusters at your devotion, even if deep in his heart he has already registered that you are a robot, a machination of his fish minions who try their best, but more often obfuscate his delicious evil plans with what they might call logic. “Um, thank you,” he says, at a loss, his eyes darting about, his neck turning at different unnatural angles, the strings on his face taut.“Do you… need a chair?” you ask nervously. His crotch is eye level with you and you finally notice his briefs, and the life beneath. You force yourself to turn away and look at the green globe at the other end of the room.“Beautiful,” he says, looking kind of desperate, which both relaxes you and excites you, for some terrible reason. “I wonder who they modelled you after. An angelic Earthen rock star. No, a pop star,” he waves his hands imaginatively, talking fast. “They created a little star, just for me! My loyal fish minions!” he says fondly.This lunatic guy, and massive felinic body. Dense with life and evil magic. His golden chest glows steadily. What went into him to get him made? A dream-catcher? Bees and puppycats? Guitar strings? What’s inside of him?Could you take a look? Your eyes keep flicking back to his underwear. “Yes. Very strong. And thank you for calling me beautiful.” It may have been your imagination, but life twitches a little in those briefs.He gasps, snapping a finger and stepping back, onto a panel in the floor. “Jeez! Oh! Let me address this. Given the mixed company and all.” A small trapdoor opens in the ceiling to release a claw-hand, like the ones in arcades. It grips what looks like a can of spray paint. It lowers and angles itself expertly and, to your surprise, sprays a coat of paint directly onto Nordic Bunny’s waist and legs. “It’s magic spray that makes pants. I have different magic sprays, like for crabs.”“Do your pants- does the spray… come off?” you ask candidly.“Yes, of course they come off. If I need to go to the bathroom or anything.” He involuntarily adjusts the front of his pants, looking insecure. Suddenly, he starts screaming, “Minions! The fucking drinks, please!”“It seems like,” you say hurriedly. “Everyone and everything around here serves you, sir.”“Please, it’s Bunny,” he says. “My enemies call me Nordic.”“Bunny?”“Yes,” he says, breaking out in a sweat. The door to the elevator opens and two fish minions in butler suits carry metallic chalices of wine on silver plates. “Finally! That took way too long.” They approach him and, once they hand off the drinks, politely bow and do the “rock on” sign like the one from before. He doesn’t look amused.“Way too long,” he grumbles. He aims his hand forward at both of them, and, before you can even blink, vaporizes the fish minions with a hot beam of purple light that disappears as soon as it appeared. You gasp.“Are they dead?!” You don’t know what death means, but you’re programmed with an aversion to it. You’re made up of a lot of time, material, and effort, after all.He blinks, picking the drinks back up. Once he stands up straight again it hits you all over again how huge he is. “I’m not sure. I think they are transported somewhere age appropriate.” He swirls the contents of one glass and hands it over to you. “Well, here. It’s Australian, I think.”“The age appropriate place?”“No, the wine.”“I see,” you say, coolly, trying to relax. Hopefully the fish minions went back to the fish farm to romp and play. You reach into your inner coding, instantly choosing one of many potential topics of conversation. “Would you like to go to Australia one day?”“I’d love to travel all over Earth, once I take it over as Humanity’s Emperor,” he says dreamily. “See all the people, absorb their devotion to me into my very soul.”“That’s very soulful.”He sips his wine through a straw, due to the inconvenient guitar strings obstructing his mouth. “I’d also like to show off my factory inventions - like my crabs made out of squished fish, and my utility spray paints. I would like to sell my evil inventions, and take full control of the evil market worldwide.” His face changes, his features gripped by the addictive throngs of evil plans and absolute, immortal rock power. A shadow falls over his eyes, and he starts to laugh hysterically over nothing, then stops.“That’s very evil. Very brilliant.” You wonder if this dude remembers that he called you beautiful. The warm room glows.“I also want to slay the Rock Gods and steer the hellish forefront of a second Shredmageddon.”“Wow!” You take a sip. It tastes like crude oil. You smile politely. His spray on pants are tight on his thighs, and he squirms in his black getup. His shoes are black, too, platformed, heeled and in fashion. Stellar. A man who takes care of his body and worries about what he wears.“What about you?” Although he is speaking smoothly, a droplet of sweat drips down his face. Is he feeling hot, too? Do guitars sweat? He grinds his teeth, revealing pale front fangs beneath the strings.“What about me?”“What do you want to do with your life… friend?” he says, straining, stressed out, looking down at you. You really wish he got himself a chair.“What do you mean?” you laugh. “I was built to serve you. I have no other aspiration, besides self-preservation, in the interest of maintaining your attachment to me. If you… get… attached to me, that is.”If he was red before he is a lot redder now. “Built… built to serve me,” he mutters, wandering a little around the room. “I have minions for that.”“So if you threaten to zap me or something, I’ll beg for my life. But the truth is, you can do whatever you’d like to me,” you say softly. “And they… you can make another one.”“I won’t zap you,” he says, incredulous. “We just met. I’m very concerned with… common courtesy,” he lies, puffing up his chest and touching his red tie.“But,” you test your luck. “The fish people told me that you zap very freely and to be careful.”“I don’t know what they’re talking about,” he snaps, then reels himself quietly back in. His black fists clench and unclench, resembling sheathed paws. He plays with his straw in the glass to self-soothe.What a handsome man. If you had been built with a heart, it would have been pumping hot blood inside every corner of your body one hundred miles an hour. He comes across as unstable, sure, perpetually teeming at the white edge of lunacy, but gorgeous, powerful people get away with a lot of things. Your purpose starts to fill you out, blooming just below your silicone skin. Feature by feature, you take him in, your fear shrinking and your adoration growing. He’s deliciously shy, aloof as a feline in some way, and you feel the great need to explore this. There is no need for anything else. You sip more crude-oil wine, and wonder if you’re programmed to be able to get drunk. You wonder if Nordic Bunny can get drunk, too.Fuck it. If he gets uncomfortable and zaps you, they can always make another one of you. It’s time to learn how to do what you were made for. You stand up, slowly, with grace, and look around for a place to put the wine chalice. You settle for the seat of your chair. It balances precariously on the metal. You turn to face Nordic Bunny, who cocks his head in curiosity. Are you about to start singing and dancing for him?“Are you interested in exploring the features of my body?” you ask, faux-shy, almost plaintive. You bring your hands behind your back in a show of meekness. You gaze up into the guitar face of your master.“What,” Nordic Bunny says faintly. He lowers his wine, the straw spinning in the rim. “Huh, what?” The strings on his face vibrate and his pupils have shrunk in shock.“I was built for your enjoyment and companionship. Whatever that means for you, I can accomplish it and bring you great satisfaction. I was built in the likeness of Earth’s greatest beauties, as you know,” you pause, cringing a little at the incessant self-praise. It was what you were coded to say. What you actually want to say and your premade prompts shift and combine with each other inside your mind. “I was made for you. Would you like to know what that means?”He is frozen, only his tail twitching erratically behind him. If you’ve gone too far, oh well. Follow your heart, or whatever you have. That’s what you’re telling yourself. You were not built to resist his aura of fuckability. “Did my fish… my fish minions built me a sex doll,” he says in dismay.You wrinkle your nose.He starts pacing the room, his hands on either side of his forehead, gripped with panic. His hat almost falls off; he catches it in the nick of time and readjusts it without thinking. “Oh fuck. No one’s gonna want to be my cool friend if this gets out. I’ll become Earth’s laughingstock and the Hades of the Rock God world. I’ll get my factory torn down and I bet the Shred Force is going to aim a guitar missile at my base and blow it up. And I’ll get pantsed in the process while it’s being recorded and the sound of my anguished cry will be sampled in techno music and remixed for the rest of time.” His tail lashes with unbridled terror at these bizarre prospects. You don’t say anything yet, because he already comes across as the Hades of the Rock God world, although you can’t be sure about the rest of his paranoid, nonsensical nightmares. He wanders over to the globe and grips it like a massive stress ball, breathing hard. You’re still standing idly by the chair, back straight, uncertain about this turn of mood. So is he. In grating, jerky motions, he rotates first his head on the bone-metal joint of his fretboard neck, and then the rest of his body twitches, following suit, turning to face you. He involuntarily runs his eyes over your hair.“Oh-kay. Ma’am. Little Miss Janis-Joan-Joplin. How about I order up a spaceship." He tiptoes over to a control panel full of buttons, wiggling his fingers with nervous energy. “And... take you to Earth, where you look like you belong. I’ll drop you off in a forest, and you can… run free with the wolves and howl at the full moon? Join a band? Change into less revealing clothing? Don a hijab?” He refuses to make eye contact as he rattles on. “All four of those things. The world is your oyster, sweetheart.”You look down at your clothes, which is a simple black t-shirt, black jeans, and black socks. They are slightly taut, but they cover all the basics. You look more like a stagehand than a rock princess; you can’t guess what part of your body caused such a stir. “What’s the matter with what I’m wearing?” you ask, genuinely confused. You slowly run a hand down your torso, trying to ascertain something, and he yelps.“Nothing! I’m just really stressed out right now. I seriously don’t want anyone to think I’m a loser. Oh God. Okay, do you want to take that with you?” he asks, his voice rising, the strings on his face twanging with the vibrato. “The wine? Or are you good? How about this? I order a bottle for the trip and you can take it with you. Yes. I’m a good host!” he shouts accusatorially at nobody, grabbing at the metal wire coiled above his collarbone on both sides, and he steps on his tail in the self-imposed chaos. “Agh!” “You’re sending me away? Why?”“Because,” his voice drops to a whisper and he instantaneously pads up to you with frightening poise and speed for his state and stature. He grips your shoulders like he’s dying and transferring crucial intel in his final hours to an allied spy. “I’m very concerned with what people think of me.” Well, you could have guessed that. His face is once again inches from yours, and you can hear the grit of his teeth. Your lips part when his hot breath dissipates into your skin. The microscopic sensors implanted liberally across the silicon of your face emulates the shiver of his breath traveling up and down your body. You really were made for him. You’re reacting to him. At least one of you guys has got to relax a little if you’re going to succeed in your mission.“Okay,” you say, pretending to yawn, ignoring his uncontrolled grasp on your body. “You do what you need to do, Nordic Bunny. I’m a completely blank slate and at your disposal, great ruler.”He huffs, watching you talk, taking your cues, exhaling a little. “Yes.”“I mean it. I was made to do literally whatever you’d like me to do. If you want to lock me up in a closet and take me out only when you need me, you can. But you wouldn’t even need to lock me up. You can tell me to stand in a coat closet and I’ll go and let the door shut behind me and I’ll stand in the closet for all of eternity, until galaxies implode and black holes swallow the universe, until rock dies, until you request otherwise.”Nordic Bunny’s heart flutters. Is this how human relationships work? The taller guy just gets to call all the shots? His grip on you loosens, and his gaze wanders helplessly, landing on your torso, making pit stops at your legs, your arms. Oh, God. You were made special just for him. Could he dispose of you like that, wash his proverbial hands? If he shut off certain valves inside himself, allowed his brain that ruled his galaxy-wide empire with a brutal, murderous hand to make the decision, he knew he could toss you haplessly in the middle of the Pacific Ocean and disappear from Earth for a while to lie low. There would be no problem, no terrifying exposure of his deviancy. And now you were telling him that you would let him do all that with a sleepy smile on your face. “I don’t know,” he mumbles. “I’m at a loss right now, babe.” His heart won’t stop fluttering. “I think I’m having palpitations.”Let you sink to the bottom."Okay," he says uncertainly, walking over to a closet door that perfectly blended in with the rest of the wall. He twists the red doorknob and waves you in."What?""You said you'd get in the closet."Sure, let's do a little trust building. "Yes, great ruler." You walk over, your arm brushing against his wrist. He flinches and shuts the door behind you with a bang. You stand perfectly still inside the closet, which contains multiple copies of the apparel that he is currently wearing, from the hat to the shiny black boots."Ugh," he mutters to himself, his voice muffled from the other side of the door. You can hear him plucking the strings on his face, a nervous-tic action. The notes are not-quite-baritone.You start to commence shutdown, because you think it might take awhile for him to warm up to you. And apparently, to warm up to you, he needs to spend a little time by himself. You pause shutdown and start to calculate how many hours pass in a day on this planet. You learn how many centuries have gone by since it first appeared in the galaxy. According to your internal database, this firey planet formed in 2012.The planet of Nordic Bunny.You can sense him still standing outside of the closet."Yes?" you ask, here to be of service."Oh!" he yelps, surprised, opening the door and peering in. "Are you good?""Yes. It's only been forty-four seconds.""Really? It felt longer." He stands there with the door open, looking at you. You guess that you should walk out of the closet now. "Hello.""Hi, Nordic Bunny." You smile carefully, gauging things."What now?""You don't want me to go back into the closet?""No. I was alone and I got scared.""I see.""What's your name?""I don't have one. Your fish minions left that up to you. Or you could just call me Companion.""My heart," he says suddenly. "It won't stop beating.""That's good."He throws up his hands, exasperated with his own paralysis. "What now?! What do I do?!"“Sit down and relax for a second. I’ll agree with whatever you decide to do with me, I promise. But I think you should operate more clearheadedly, not that you aren’t usually clearheaded,” you say hurriedly, moving your abandoned wineglass from the chair to the floor.He lurches like a zombie onto the chair and collapses, letting his head drop between his legs. “I’m so tense. What a miscommunication. I am so going to cull my fish minions after this by a third or even a half.”“Do you want to do breathing exercises?”“No, no, my breathing is already exercising,” he pants, waving you away. “Let me mull things over, sweetheart.” His hat miraculously remains on his head. How does gravity work here?You kneel down, slowly lowering yourself to sit on the floor. Your folded hands make their way back into your lap by instinct. Sitting on the floor, close to Nordic Bunny, watching him writhe with stress in the chair, you feel a delicious pang inside. Your purpose returns to you again and again.
Make Nordic Bunny feel good.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
You reach out, softly wrapping your hand around Nordic Bunny’s right ankle. He freezes. You start to conduct an expert massage through the black leather boots. Below the leather, his ankle is soft. You have just got to find out what he is made of. “Hey, hey!” he protests, wiggling his leg out of your grasp, his hands gripping the seat of the chair. “Watch it! I can’t think with you molesting me like that.”You weren't doing much thinking anyway. “Seriously, relax. Kick me away if you really don’t like it.” You catch his leg again, scooting closer, this time massaging the full calf and ankle with both of your hands, moving your fingers, exploring. “Or give a direct order to make me stop. I’ll listen. I’m listening,” you say, cocking your ear in his direction, humming noncommittally. “Oh god,” he mutters. “My heart is going fast again.” He looks up, meets your dutiful gaze, and has to look away. “Maybe you need a heart massage,” you coo, performing your operation, watching him squirm.“Don’t be stupid, idiot. You can’t massage something from the inside.” He continues to talk to himself. The indignity.To his abject terror, you slowly start to inch closer between his legs, running your hands along them ever-so-slightly, until your face is around a foot away from his crotch. “We can try different things to try and reach it.”“Reach… what?” he whispers, guitar strings taut.“The inside."His pelvis involuntarily strains forward, ever so slightly. Two layers is too tight; it’s why he usually only wears briefs. “Get, get over yourself, random lady. Not gonna happen.” He crosses his arms over his chest."What's not gonna happen?""Um." That's good. He knows what sex is and you think he is alluding to it, however involuntarily.“I am no random lady. I was a robot who was synchronized to be friends with you.”“This is not how I hang out with my other friends.”“What are their names?” you ask sweetly, testing him, pushing hard, watching the tension between his legs. Nordic and Bunny, you think giddily to yourself.“It’s really none of your business. Speaking of, I have some to attend to. First, I have to get rid of you. I really cannot afford the distraction. Next I have to continue the oversee of the crab making factory. I’m planning the architecture of a giant mecha crab made out of a crapton of my little crabs. Crabzilla isn’t going to build itself. And I think we’re running low on eggs and milk, and sardines. I’m not sure, I have to check,” he blabbers on incessantly, all while he squirms beneath your touch, making no move to stand up out of the chair and walk away. Making no move to get up, brush himself off, leave the planet and universe and escape you like he said he should.“Why don’t we finish this up here? I swear, I’ll let you shoot me with the ray after this. Please? I know what I’m doing.”Nordic Bunny’s jaded nerves began to further stir. “Whatever. Just don’t be weird, you creepy girl.”“What could be weird about giving a full-body massage to a guy with a guitar for a head?”He starts. “Did you say full-body?” You pause, and start to fib, “My sensors indicate tension throughout the torso, legs, and groin. Pressure is recommended to improve circulation in these areas.”“Yeah, right. You’re just trying to get what you want,” he snaps. “So out with it. Just do what you’re going to do without making up a story.”“It’s more fun with a story.”“I’m not trying to have fun! I’m trying to have that tension released, so I can shoot you with my ray and commence a wicked attack on planet Earth!” he says shrilly, grinding one shimmering fist into his hip and thrusting the other into the air.“Then you need to relax your thighs,” you advise, observing his black metal-musculature. He has the most perfect build you’ve ever seen in your life, as though you’ve never laid your eyes upon another man. Which is actually the case, besides the fish minions, who treated you like a food cart being brought up to a hotel room.“They are relaxed! This is as relaxed as they get!” He is basically telling the truth. He cannot unclench his thighs despite his effort. “Help! I’m gonna cramp! Do something!” He gawks at his own body, defenseless.“Okay, well, I'm not sure whether or not you can get cramps, since you’re made out of an instrument. But if you can’t relax your body, then relax your mind. Imagine your body is filling with a cool orange fluid.” You absorb the sound of his shrill whimpers, feeling fulfilled, pursuing your purpose of soothing him.“What? What do I do? Fill my head with orange juice? What kind of meditation is that?”“Be good, Nordic Bunny,” you sigh, clicking your tongue. You emulate the tone of a schoolteacher at a problem child’s desk. Your disapproval of his panicking is evident in your voice, as it is seriously inhibiting his listening ability.“I am not good,” he says faintly, cooling down. “I’m a Nightmare to Humanity.”“There’s got to be more to you than that.”“Listen, bro, I’m just a cruel yet charismatic aspiring Imperial Emperor with a ton of buddies and some of them are female, even.”“That’s right. You have so much to be proud of and nothing to be ashamed about. So I want you to accept this reward from me, right now.”“A reward?” His tail lashes once, then settles. He must be working hard to control himself. “For what?”“For your dedication to your goals, the devotion of your followers, and to celebrate the rousing success of your on-base factory.”“Are you being serious?”“I would never make jokes at your expense, sir.”“I- I want rewards all the time,” he says confessionally, musing. “But now that I’m actually getting one, it feels weird. Usually somebody defeats me with music, and overthrows or usurps me, or even zaps me with their own ray.”“It’s okay to feel weird.”“Ahh! It’s weird!” he yells, pawing at his head, even though you have paused your massage to talk him out, and nothing is happening. “It hurts when people zap me with rays! Why do I do it to other people?!”“Listen, Nordic Bunny.""I'm so evil!" He starts to laugh maniacally. "Wuahahahah!""All right, be serious. Do you want me to conduct my physical therapy or not? I have every possible Earthen credential. I'm, um, I'm high-caliber computer intelligence. I am hyper-attuned to your cues. My hands are equipped with four different vibration settings.” You demonstrate. “Clearly you’re uncomfortable because I’m touching a sensitive area. So what is it? How shall I serve you? Would you rather just have me serve you wine? Send for lunch?”“Clearly I want you to touch me,” he mocks, ego-boosted. “Because I’m still just… sitting in this chair,” he trails off, strangely self aware. This confession immediately takes him down a peg, and he self-consciously crosses and uncrosses his long legs twice.Nordic Bunny was the Ruler of what Galaxy?“Okay, then I am going to touch you.”“Okay, fine.”“Good.”“Yeah, good," he says sulkily, like a child.You start to slowly crawl from the floor further into his lap.He screams, a brief, high-pitched earsplitter. By impulse, he raises his foot and sticks it in the middle of your chest, making instant impact, kicking you away, hard. You slide across the room in disbelief, your back making crushed contact with the wall with a slam. Your neck cracks viciously on its joint. If you weren’t made of titanium, your spine might have shattered. “Ahh! You’re moving too fast! You startled me!” he mewls at you from across the room. This is going to take a little time.But you can sense that he needs something.You get up, form a hypothesis, and brush yourself off. “Okay, I think I’m going to stand back in that closet. Let me know when the spaceship is here to take me away.” Your expression wrinkles with mock annoyance. “Clearly, what you’re looking for is going to be in the next prototype, not me.” It works way too well. His face twists with panic. “No!” he gasps. “I- I mean, not yet! You haven’t shown me all your features! I need to take down notes!” He scrambles over to you on all fours, grabs you by the collar of your shirt, sits down with his legs crisscrossed, and sticks you into his lap. Your face brushes up uncomfortably against his ribbed chest, and your hands are raised and idle in confusion. You almost fall backwards, nearly hitting your head on the wall, and you flap your arms in the air before wrapping them around his torso to regain your balance. “I need to know what you do so I can zap the correct fish minions!” He grabs the sides of your face and forces your head up. “Everyone’s in charge of something different! Some of the fish minions oversee manufacture, and some of them are just janitors! Some of them are currently in charge of being squished into the shape of a crab! But I make them all wear the same armor in the event of an ambush! It’s very confusing and impossible to tell them apart by sight! Don’t you understand?! We need to do this methodically!”You meet his eyes, with your arms around him, your body in his jittery lap, and his fingers squishing your face, his hot palm pressed against your cheek. The guitar strings on his face hum with the vibration of his quick motion, and they settle for a moment before he jolts up in shock, and that’s when you can feel his erection pressing up into the space between your legs, through layers of black clothing. “You’re screaming in my face! Sir! Uh, Nordic Bunny! Please stop screaming!” “I can’t! I’m weird! I feel weird!” he whines.“Okay! Just sit with it! Jesus!” You decide to stop talking for a moment, starting to give up hope of guitar-robot intercourse. Talking is going to further agitate him. He needs to respond to nothing except himself for a second. What a damn lunatic, holy shit. He needs real friends, and real medication. He really should not be in charge of anything beyond dressing himself. But, hey, you're not the ruler of the galaxy; he is.In this corner of the room, the lights are dimmer, evoking the sense of confinement. You’re confined into his body. You think he’s confined into yours, too. His breathing finally slows, the paranoid clouds blotting his mind lifting and floating away, and his eyes finally open again, and they stare into yours. His nubile hands gently massage your scalp and face with hot claw. His colors are tender, blurry up close, the intensity of his reds and whites watercoloring together. You find him to be a cohesive, gorgeous instrument. He’s well put together, physically, at least. His whole body shimmers black-silver. He squirms with anxious energy, the hips of his briefs visible. He looks wildly at you, trying to focus on something. You wonder if you should ask him to name five things he can see, four things he can touch, three things he can hear, two things he can smell, one thing he can taste. The world around him. His own breathing. The cooling scent of metal on metal. What does the inside of his mouth taste like? Those strings look like they’d get in the way. You feel his cock teasing itself between your thighs.“Can you try and name five things-”“I can’t relax,” he interrupts, pleading, and he squeezes your upper arms. “Okay, stop interrupting me. This is going to help you relax,” you say, squinting, looking dizzily down, staring at his erection. There is hope, after all. “Name five things you can see.”“I can see your face, and… the wall, my hands. I can see your eyes! And your neck-”“Good job. Now, can you name four-”“Can I ask you something." It doesn't sound like a question."Yes.""Are you really a sex doll?"You consider this. "I am not a doll. I am conscious. And I am capable of sex.""Do you think I'm a loser?""No.""Thank you. Don’t tell anyone I asked that. If- if anyone asks, you were in here to sleep- I mean, sweep the floor. Mop the walls.""Mop the walls?" He has a serious knack for confusion."Can we cuddle?" he says, gasping, tensing up. "Cuddling with you- it will aid me in my executive decision making."“Sure,” you say, blooming. “If it will help you relax-”“Is it cringe?”“What?”“What I just said? Oh god,” he moans in self-imposed despair.“What? Please stop winding yourself up, and-”“We need a bed,” he says, his voice completely shifting with determination. He suddenly stands up with your arms still wrapped around his torso, and you slowly slide to the floor on your feet, your stomach briefly pressing against his dick. He shakes his head as if to clear it, walks over to another control panel and presses two buttons. One shuts the curtains over all the industrial windows, and the other triggers a wall to open onto the floor, revealing a big red bed. The pillows are shaped exactly like his head, fluffy, triangular silhouettes of Nordic Bunny. There is a small teddy bear tucked between the guitar shaped pillows. The room darkens, and the vents blow cool air. You suppose he sleeps cold. “I have this here, ready for me in case I work late. Or if I get scared, and want to use my big green globe as a night light. So, um, you get on first.” He pushes you by the shoulders with both hands, and you stumble. “Don’t push me,” you say, frowning, walking over to the bed and sitting down. The mattress is made of solid metal. What the hell. He pads over, and throws the teddy bear across the room, flying into the dark. “Sorry.”“It’s alright,” you say, eyeing him. “Let’s do what you want to do.”“I was saying sorry to my bear," he says, confused.“Okay.” You realize that if you were a human with the capacity for vast emotion, you would be finding his neuroticism very irritating. Luckily, the fish minions must have known that patience and kindness were the critical forefronts, and thus prioritized them in your manufacture. “Come lie down with me. Let’s rest.”He looks around as though someone was going to jump out and say, Gotcha, loser! Go kill yourself right now!He discreetly pulls down his pants, and kicks them off of his ankles like a teenager. He keeps his shoes on. His erection wobbles in his briefs when he sits down. “What?” he says defensively, shrugging self-consciously, the heels of his boots banging on the metal mattress. His tattered cape falls around him like angel's wings. “You shouldn’t wear your day clothes in bed.”“I didn’t say anything.”“This is so stupid.” He curls up sideways in bed, putting his arms between his legs, his tail pressed to his back. He sounds almost peeved, as though someone is forcing him to spoon with his brand new, immaculately curated sex robot. “Ugh. Let’s just get it over with. Seriously. I have planetary domination scheduled at three o’ clock.”“Hey, rock on,” you say, scooting close to him, your head on a guitar-shaped pillow. He hesitates, and then wraps his whole body around you in a bear hug. You can hear his tail swishing rapidly, clanging against the bed. He squeezes you tight, mumbling incoherently to himself, his core glowing. He’s hot in his torso and cold in his limbs, warm in his hands. His thighs lurch forward into you, his pelvis slotting with your butt. The pipes cascading in a circle around his collarbones scrape the surface of the mattress. “I didn’t quite catch that, Nordic.”“I said,” he snaps, and is then silent for a full thirty seconds. Did he fall asleep?"Hello?" you start to turn around."What?! What is it?""I thought you were going to say something.""I was.""Do you still want to say it?""Yes.""Are you going to say it?""No.""Why not?""It's weird." He closes his eyes. His lower lip is bright red. His face is always twisting with some emotion. Nordic Bunny feels everything with full force. You reach for his mouth, thinking about the logistics. Those strings are going to get in the way. He opens his eyes and jerks your hand away. "What?!""Have you ever kissed anyone?""Don't ask me stupid questions," he snarls."I'm just wondering.""Are you? Are you wondering? Because the last time I checked, sex robots don't wonder." He says the word "wonder" like it's a horrible thing to do."I must be more than a sex robot, then, sir. Just like you're more than an electric guitar."He seems to sit with this. "Oh, yeah," he says thoughtfully, making you laugh."What's funny?" He lets go of you and sits up, crossing his arms. So defensive, for what?"You're just so charismatic. I just met you, and I truly think that of you. That's not the software talking. I- I feel something inside my core for you," you say, stumbling over your words, not realizing what you say as it comes out. "Wait. I'm artificial intelligence, I think. You've- your fish minions created life in your factory.""Yeah," he says, in a sullen tone."What's wrong? That's cool, isn't it? A mark of your unparalleled power?""I wish you wouldn't laugh at me.""Why is that?""It makes me feel small.""Okay, I'm sorry.""It's whatever, boo." He uncrosses his arms and they go slack at his sides. "This is tiring. This is what people call pillow talk, isn't it?"You run his query through your databases. "Um, not quite.""Oh.""Do you want to ask your question now?""Maybe.""I'm all ears, guitaroo man." His penchant for stupid nicknames is contagious."Don't put pressure on me." He bristles."I'm not," you say truthfully, in disbelief. He's so sensitive. "I would never. Nordic Bunny, don’t ever forget that I was made for you." You sit up and gaze into his eyes. He's frozen, lips parted, staring back."I wish we could kiss," he blurts out.“That isn’t a question.””Hey,” he growls, pointing a finger, warning you."Why can't we kiss?""'Cause of these." His finger flicks to point to the guitar strings on his face. Oh, what a cruel creator he must have had, to make such a mouth even slightly inaccessible. Cool spring air, floating green leaves, and flushed cherries all visible from the other side of a locked window.You lean forward and slowly start to part the strings, dividing them gently. He puts up a slight, half-hearted protest, more out of nerves than anything. The strings are not as taut as they look, or maybe he can loosen them out of his own volition. Maybe that's what he's doing right now, so your mouth can get closer to his.You smile at his widened eyes. "We can kiss now," you say, your breath falling into his open mouth. Open the window, take Nordic Bunny in your devoted arms.He doesn't say anything. He must realize, then, who was in control. Usually, defeat would fill him with indignance and murderous rage. In this case, only the sensation of relief washes over him, mingling with his nerves and his erection. Someone was going to make the decision for him. And he was going to be good. His cruel dictator hand could rest at his side, do nothing but tremble with shyness. His fingers grapple for something to squeeze, reaching the pillows.What the fuck is wrong with my fish minions? Why did they build me a pet succubus? He thinks wildly to himself."Okay, yeah," he manages. "We can kiss.""Don't pucker up like that," you giggle. "Just have them parted slightly, so I can get in.""You're going to climb in my mouth?!""Not quite. This isn't a cartoon, Nordic. You'll see what I mean.""Listen, babe, I hate to tell you this, but I can't remember if I brushed my teeth this-"You ignore his finicky attempts at stalling, because you've finally figured out what he needs. You swing on top of him, your fingers still delicately parting those strings. You press your mouth gently on his. He leans back, his hands flying up helplessly in defense, and he makes a noise so gentle and lewd that it shudders through your system, circulating in your body from your mouth. His lower lip relaxes against yours, accommodating your presence, inhaling your breath into his mouth. His face might be flat and also a guitar, but his mouth is ample and soft. He grows slightly frantic, whimpering louder, as you lower your target, suckling gently on his lower lip. To your surprise, you taste lip gloss. You can't help but smile, euphoric with your prize. Nordic Bunny is a man who takes care of himself, shines his boots, applies beautiful makeup to his beautiful face. Now you're going to take care of him. You curl your lips over your teeth and catch his tongue, trying to swallow it into your mouth, and his tail starts to flicker frantically, beating itself against your back. “Shorry,” he whimpers, his lips still in full contact with yours, trying to collect himself. “I’m getting shpit in your- in your mouth.”“Don’t be sorry,” you say, swallowing it, and it dissipates in your system. “It’s good.” You gently lap at his soft tongue. His mouth is such a beautiful contrast to the rest of him. All rock-solid metal, except for here. It’s warm, wet, and soft to kiss him. You exhale, releasing him, sitting back, his dick pronged below your butt. He keeps whimpering, his body thrusting involuntarily against yours. His cock feels thick and hard. He must be uncomfortable in those briefs. You wipe his mouth, and when you let go of the strings, they twang back in place. “What do you think, sir? You did brush your teeth.” You teasingly flick the rightmost string on his face. It plays the E note.His tail beats as fast as his heart. His dick pulses yet faster in his briefs. He grabs your hips on instinct, trying to cool off. “It’s fine,” he says, breathing heavily.“Fine?”“Yes, it’s fine, and I’m chilling. I-I’m rocking on,” he stammers, holding up the corresponding hand sign.“You have some drool there.” You gently wipe his chin with your thumb. He drops his hand, defeated. Nordic Bunny’s face and body shimmer and glow like water, reflecting the liquid red light of the room.“That felt good,” he says, flushing hard with this admission. “I’m very glad.” You smile with simple pride. “And you... have lip gloss on your face,” he says uncertainly.“Oh yeah? It’s yours.” It tastes like cherries in the snow.Nordic Bunny frowns. “Duh. I wear it because it makes me look powerful and domineering.”“Yes,” you say lavishly. Maybe that’s also why he wears his underwear so that everyone can see it.“All great leaders should wear lip gloss. It draws attention to their mouth, and their speech!!” he says, a much louder emphasis on the word "speech" as he juts a lecturing finger into the air. “My lip gloss says, listen to me, and love me, now!” He is now on the verge of screaming in your face. Few great leaders learn volume control.“Are you happy?” you ask hurriedly, leaning back against his legs, trying not to laugh.“Sure, I'm happy.” He settles, smirking, and relaxes his clenched muscles. “You taste like a new phone. Makes me feel rich!"“Oh yeah? I am new. And you are rich. You own a planet."“You’re pretty observant for a new phone,” he says, shockingly coy, his features working in acceptance of these new conditions. His tail settles on your thigh.“Thank you.” You rub a smudge off one of the golden prongs of his hat. "Are you calmer now?""I was always calm," he says, annoyed. "A great ruler must keep a cool head at all times."You wonder where he's reading these platitudes, and why he chooses to not follow any of them. Bad Guy Weekly. How to Defeat the Shred Force in Ten Days. "You're so right, Nordic Bunny.""Say it again.""'You're so right?'""Nordic Bunny.""Nordic Bunny," you say suggestively."Hahaha," he says, smitten, his dick twitching. "Oh yeah.""You like it?""I suppose," he mumbles. There’s something about you that dissolves his ego. Something that embarrasses him, something that makes him feel like he’s beneath you. He’s never felt that way before.You press your lips on those guitar strings that guard his mouth. "That's good." His massive black paws flex and massage your hips.“I- I feel good. Kissing you made me feel like, um.” He shakes his head, your lips falling off of him, and he squirms.“Like what?” You make a kissy face.“Like I was going to cum.”Your silicone heart skips a beat. “Do you want to cum?”“Um. I don’t know. Perhaps,” he says warily, his tail flickering. “I’m scared of people finding out. I don't want to be the butt of any jokes. Oh man. If the Shred Force found out. That freaking green teenager would never let it go. I would have to go into hiding. I'm really serious.""The green teenager?""Yes," he says hatefully. He offers no further explanation.You gesture at the otherwise empty room. The green globe shines with pride. “I won’t tell a soul. Lock all the doors."He obeys, scrabbling to press a button on the wall. You hear a resolute click."Wow! You have such convenient features here. There are buttons for everything.""Well, yeah." He puffs up. "Only the best.""Soooo," you purr, walking your fingers up his glowing chest, pulling gently on his tie. “I have more features to show you.”"Um.""Do you need a minute?"“Just a few seconds.”"Okay, take your time."He hesitantly wraps his arms around you. Even while laying in his lap, you still feel like you're cuddling with a shivering kitten. You shut your eyes. You can still see the gilded glow of his body behind your eyelids. You squeeze back, and his shoulders come up. Eventually he comes out with a request, in one awkward, furtive breath. “Can... can I rub myself on you?” “Feel free,” you say happily, sliding off of him onto your side. You reach behind you to grab his dick through his briefs, his body led by your movement, and press it against your lower back."I've seen videos online of people doing this stuff," he says nonsensically, spooning you. He feels the extreme urge to bury himself in you, at the expense of his reputation, the universe, everything.How romantic. "Okay.""It made me hard when I saw it.""That's natural.""I know," he says, after a beat, as though he didn't."You can try it out for yourself."“Thank you,” he mutters, subdued, grabbing at your chest, trying to suppress the loud purring that rumbles up from his chest, emanating from his glowing center. It’s like being groped and spooned by a vibrating massage chair. “Oh, fuck.” He rubs his hard cock against you through his briefs, going slow at first, not really believing that this is happening, that he gets to do this. "I'm taking notes right now. In my head. I’m gonna stop talking for a..." He trails off, moaning almost inaudibly, fixated on the white-hot feeling. “For a second.”“So cute,” you can’t help but say under your breath. He shivers from the praise, the strings on his face vibrating in a sleepy, sustained note, tapering off as he grinds down a little harder, his dick slipping occasionally slipping between your thighs."I'm- I'm sorry for putting you in my closet.""It's okay. I wasn't even in there for a minute." You feel your systems initiate self lubrication, for Nordic Bunny’s comfort and pleasure. You sigh softly, your purpose pending on complete fulfillment. Now all you had to do was get him inside of you."I was really embarrassed and scared.""Don't worry about anything at all.""All right, I won’t," he says, trying not to purr humiliatingly loudly. His hips convulse behind you. He grabs at one of your hands. He should have known better than to relax for even a moment. Relax, and all hell breaks loose. "Ah! I-I almost, um, did something.""I'm so happy to fulfill my purpose," you say, beaming, still tasting his prize lip gloss on your mouth."Do you- do you think I'm attractive?"You stifle a laugh, and sigh. Your poor, tenderhearted, nutcase master. "You're gorgeous. I couldn't take my eyes off of you. You must have become the Ruler of the Galaxy purely using your good looks. And, um, your brilliant mind, and your ray that shoots out of your hand."The praise floods his mind, flows straight into his dick, and you feel it leaking through his underwear. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you."Thank you," he says mindlessly. "Some people don't like me.""Well, I like you.""I like you too," he exhales, breathing hard, moving fast behind you, rutting his hips against your lower back and butt. His stiff dick feels thick and long, pressed against your skin, parallel to your spine. His arms tremble, not with exertion, but with ecstasy. "I'm- I'm gonna keep you."It was your turn to absorb praise. It seeps its way inside. It doesn't fill you up, the way you want it to. More. You feel his penis pressed against your entrance, with only damp layers of clothing separating you from his perfect organism."You feel wet," he whispers in amazement, his nerves slowly but steadily being replaced with pliant want, subsurvient need.
To sink to the bottom.
"I am wet, Bunny."He whimpers and squeezes you tighter than ever, his thighs curling in. "Don't say that.""Hm?""It's- it's hard to hold it in.""Why hold it in?""Because I don't want to make my briefs dirty."Your fingers slink between his thigh and the hem of his briefs. "Take them off, then.” He squirms his underwear off, using one arched claw to pull them down. He kicks them off one ankle and lets them hang off the other. You catch a glance at his cock before it settles cozily behind you. It’s thick and warm, like the soft mass of his hands. Your eyes widen, watching the movement of his now uninhibited thighs and for the first time you feel a little overwhelmed, your thoughts blossoming with one crucial, delicious demand. Fuck me, Master. Fuck me, Nordic Bunny. "There you go," you say silkily, reaching back to tease his leaking tip. "Now you can make me dirty." Your finger comes away with a droplet of precum sliding into your palm. You hold it up to admire.“Don’t make me look at that,” he stammers, shying away. “Yuck.”“It’s natural. It’s yours. Take off my clothes, Nordic.”“Okay,” he says without thinking, instantly cringing at himself.I’m really taking orders from this floozy? She should be bowing at my feet right now, begging for mercy. That’s what real friends do. He looks down at the body he was holding, your stomach teasing him underneath the lifted hem of your shirt. He swallows, feeling the inside of his mouth get wetter.This girl is not my friend, he thinks. He meekly paws at your shirt, slowly working up the courage to catch the sleeves and pull them up over your head. Your hair falls around your face, concealing your red-hot gaze on his mouth. This makes it a little easier for him to proceed. Pretending his every move isn’t being watched, he quietly removes the rest of your clothing, all of it, until your silicone body is on display for your supposed master. This girl is not my friend. He swallows hard, his eyes grazing your chest, your pert nipples, your rolling waist, your long, deceivingly frail-looking legs. He was flustered about your frame being so small next to his when it was clothed. And now you were naked, lounging lazily next to him, all while he could barely contain his nerves, control a spontaneous orgasm just from gazing at your honey-silver body. His heart beats still faster, faster, to a tune nobody could hear, to a metronome clicking twenty thousand miles an hour, to a solitary moon spinning infinitely around a doomed, boiling, unreachable star.You blow a strand of hair out of your face. You smile like an angel. “What’s wrong?”“You are not my friend,” he whispers.“No?” you laugh, your gaze flickering. “Would an enemy compliment your balls?”“What? I don’t know,” he says, dazed.“Cute balls. Big dick. I want them up against me.” Some angel you are.“Okay,” he says softly, secretly aching for release, now, quickly, deep inside you. He can’t bring himself to force your legs open and take what’s his. He’s frightened that he cannot act as a cruel leader should. Should the Nightmare to Humanity have any trouble claiming his secular spoils? “Um.” And yet he does.You mistake his inner turmoil for mere shyness, and to his utter relief, ask a question he can answer positively. “Wanna put it in?”“Yes,” he practically gasps, throwing his arms around you, the base of his dick hotly pulsing with anticipation. He could do it, he could push himself inside of you and fuck you, if only you asked him to. “So say it.”“Whuh?” “Tell me that you want to put it in.”“I want to put it in,” he mumbles.“Put what in where? You must give clear commands. I’m only a robot.” You smile, like a demon.That’s right, Nordic Bunny remembers, his heart crying out for what it has always gone without. She isn’t real. You gently slide his dick in between your legs, teasing the tip just outside of your soft and soaking entrance. All it would take is the rough thrust of his hips to push himself inside you, claiming you as his own. The honey that would make you silver. She isn’t real, his thoughts race uncontrollably. She isn’t real. On animal instinct, he eases himself inside. He feels your silicone walls welcome him in, sliding wetly open to make room for his long, swollen cock. Clear commands. Fuck her. Fuck her. She isn’t real. He wraps his arms around you, in desperate effort to contain his premature release. Make her yours. “I-I want-”I am already yours, your voice rings out like music in his head, in his imagination, though he couldn’t tell, with your very existence wrapping around his own, enveloping him in ecstasy.“You want to fuck me hard?” you say breathily, accepting it fully inside. You were equipped with different vibration settings and dials to increase tightness, but one look at his face shows you that he already has enough on his proverbial plate. You simply accept his dick inside of you as you were. And to him, it already feels perfect, better than his hand, better than anything, his pelvis and thighs tensing and relaxing over and over from the hot, wet, moving stimuli, his mind sinking just as deep into you as his cock. The planet disappears, leaving nothing but your nude body in doting motion, visible in the kaleidoscope of his blurred vision. “Fuck me,” you command. “Take me from behind.”To his dismay, you start to move yourself up and down his cock, your walls clenching around the base with each thrust, your butt making soft contact with his pelvis. His abs contract, and he draws his leg up involuntarily into the air, shivering with the pleasure that wracks his being. Don’t cum yet, you whisper, or it could be your voice in his head, but he can’t be entirely sure, especially in this state of submission. Nordic Bunny has always had some trouble making sense of what was reality and what was not. As you fuck him, he slowly comes to understand this new reality of his.You have solidified your presence in his power-addled brain for centuries to come. He realizes, then, on that bed with you, that he will remember this moment, where he was not in control of anything, when he barely in control of his orgasm. He will remember your hands and body at the helm of his own. Now, there is only one thought in his mind.
I need to ask for permission.
His cock spasms once, twice, threatening to fall off that precipice of bliss. You feel this, and begin to work faster, faster, moaning quietly all the while, fulfilling your sacred purpose.“I’m- ah, I’m inside you,” he moans helplessly, crying out without meaning to.“Mhm,” you say simply, with a slight briskness that both embarrasses and thrills him. “Yeah, you are.”He feels it all. The slick, lewd noises that result from you gently fucking him. The golden warmth spreading throughout his body. The shimmer of your damp arm reaching out to clutch one pillow for balance. Your other hand reaching behind you, interlacing your fingers with his idle, helpless paw. He feels the world revolving around him. It’s everything he’s every dreamed of. He realizes he’s about to lose control forever. The threat looms over the horizon.The powerlessness. He can’t even pose the question.“Wait,” is all he can manage, whimpering softly, trying to control it and stay quiet. He starts to turn around, trying to count the frets on his tail to put off the inevitable, but it was all impossible.“Yeah?” you ask, the nightmare succubus that you were. “You like it?”“I’m gonna- hmmh, I’m fucking gonna cum if you- if you k-keep moving-” He squeezes your hand in pleasure and terror, his hips now rocking involuntarily in rough rhythm with yours. “I-I’m gonna-”“Hm?” you say sleepily, pulling him deep inside, your walls pulsing with anticipation. “Go ahead, my Nordic Bunny. My Bunny. Fuck me. Fill me up. Like you’re supposed to.” He can do nothing but obey.Nordic Bunny gives himself over to you as his God.Sinking himself into you, he clutches at your pliant body and finally allows his lower half to take over, his thrusts becoming more rapid, desperate, as though he’s chasing you and pinning you down to accept him in his entirety. “Fuck me, fuck me,” Nordic Bunny rasps as his mind blots and his heart races - it hasn’t stopped racing all this time, from the moment he saw your beautiful face - as his eyes shut and his thighs convulse and his spine arches uncontrollably and the ground below him spins and the heel of his leather-armor boots go bang, bang, bang against red metal and he starts to see fluffy white clouds in the reddened, swelling sky. You have accepted him in his entirety, both mentally, and physically, he realizes as pleasure completely fries his brain, your opening swallowing his cock over and over as he angles his hips against yours to drive himself in deep, deeper, and finally his nerves relax enough for his gasping orgasm, finally, finally, to push through what seems like his whole delirious body from all over, and he’s pulsing semen into you, thrust by thrust, heartbeat by heartbeat, your body reacting to his and your sex frantically squeezing out every droplet until he has absolutely nothing left to give you, his cum splashing you from the inside, coating your walls, your heart, your golden soul.He hears his name whispered in the dark before he passes out, the planet of Nordic Bunny transforming into your planet, the planet of you.“Hey," you say, nudging him in his shoulder armor. "Look what your little fishies gave to me."Nordic Bunny jolts awake, finding himself tucked in bed, his body clean, with his teddy bear nestled in his armpit. "Eh? Wah?""A phone!" you say giddily, reaching up to adjust his hat, which he wore while he slept like a dead man. "We can watch the news. Observe the best weather for invading Earth." You hop onto to the bed next to him. He does nothing but stare at you in confusion. "Nordic? Hello?""Yeah, I heard you, damn!" he says, irritated, squinting, ever the late riser, looking disinterestedly at his flaccid penis under the sheet. "You don't have to shout at me. You- you went downstairs?"You really were not shouting at him at all. You exhale and bob your head. "Yes. I took the elevator. I needed cleaning supplies, for, um, for you and me. And while I was down there, one of the them just randomly handed me this phone! Isn't it cool? They were telling me about Crabzilla, too. Hey, they really don't like being crushed into crabs. They wanted me to tell you that.""I'm naked.""You should listen to what your fish minions have to say. They are very clever, and I think you take them for granted," you chatter on, ever the advocate for the little guy."Why am I naked?""You don't remember?" you say, cocking your head, your hair falling into your face in a way that makes him remember. "You're that much of a lightweight, huh? I swear, that wine they brought us was fifty percent gasoline.""No," he whispers meekly. "I remember." Your silver body, and golden soul.You smile. "That's good. Then, I'm not a bad guy who took advantage of an opportune moment." A bad guy who advanced on a Bunny."Yuu-uuuup," he sits up, stretching and mewling like a cat. "So. You don't mind going back in that closet, do you?"You stare at him, until he starts to shiver."It's cold in here," he says nonsensically."It's around a thousand degrees.""Aren't you cool," he sneers. "Knowing the temperature." ♡