He’d never planned on staying this long. Just a few supply runs when the Colonies had declared independence. He had to admit, the life of a blockade buster had been fun. He’d gotten off on giving the Authority the middle finger. Fuck the Man! Fuck the system! No matter where the little guy went, no matter how hard he tried to get away, the robber barons were never far behind, waiting to take more than what was theirs, and the little man always ended up begging for scraps from the table.
Some folks were fine with that. After all, most dogs like being domesticated. They wanna be lap dogs. They think that’s the only way cuz that’s all they know. Fetching sticks and getting their belly rubbed if they’re good boys and girls, getting fed at the same time every day … the same food … living the same old dreary, fucking, meaningless existence.
Not Tiger. He was nobody’s bitch. He was no mongrel. He would not allow himself to be kicked, reduced to cowering whenever those in power raised their voices, and spewed their lies. He was just what his name implied. Fearless. Proud. Undaunted. He might never beat the Man … but he’d never let the man beat him, either.
He’d been impressed with these rebel upstarts. They had sand in their craw. They believed in their cause. From President Alvarez and Commander Cody down to the housewife and kids he met on the street, they all agreed on one thing; they’d been pushed to this point by a dictatorial regime. Their backs were against the wall, and they weren’t giving any more. They also relished the obvious underdog role, something that struck a chord with Tiger.
And then he met her, the blue-haired beauty in the freshly-pressed militia uniform. He’d been around enough Andies in his time, he could spot one a kilometer away, even without the hair and the eyes. She was a beauty indeed, and the uniform only made her sexier. The fact that these wonderfully forward-thinking people had commissioned her as an officer in their defense force only added to her mystique. And of course, he was in no way adverse to bedding an android.
It’d been all about the sex, and it hadn’t been disappointing. Each time he made a run, she was waiting at the port when he arrived. They’d have dinner and drinks, then go to her place, and he’d wake in the morning a little less tired and a little less alone. As time passed, the sex got a little hotter, a little more intimate. With each subsequent visit, it got harder to leave her. It got harder to leave the city. A fight was coming. A bully was waiting on the street corner to take their lunch money. He hated bullies. They needed all the help they could get.
Three weeks ago, he offered his services to Cody and accepted a commission as a Captain in the Militia. He had no military experience whatsoever. But, then again, who here did?
And now, here he is, looking into those big, unnaturally-colored eyes. He plunges desperately in and out of her synthetic sex as if life itself depends on maximum penetration with each frantic thrust. Her eyes are locked with his, wild and unblinking, encouraging his passionate onslaught. The only sounds are an occasional whimper or grunt issuing from her sensual mouth and the slapping of sweaty skin against even sweatier skin. Her breasts bounce and wobble as their bodies work in sync. Her legs around his waist help pull her up into his thrust, eager to meet his cock.
She pulls his face down to hers, her voice a passionate whisper, “When you come … will you pretend you’re getting me pregnant? Like a human female?”
He doesn’t have time to pretend. Just the mere mention of the notion is too much for him. “FUCK!” he cries out before it degenerates into an unintelligible wail of passion and release. He’s been edging for the last thirty minutes, and the ejaculation is so powerful it’s slightly painful. His balls empty a massive load into her with violent, eruptive, primal force. He drives hard into her, his knees locking to ensure the final thrust is deep and gratifying.
He feels her wetness on his groin, a soaking like he’s never felt before, warm and abundant. She writhes below him in an unprecedented orgasmic convulsion. Her fingers dig deep into his back, and she calls out for him.
“Tiger! Something’s happening! Oh God! I think I just broke something!”
He can feel it too. There’s something different about this one, something not normal. And then, it hits him. Granny’s Jesus and all the Gods of Dixie! She’s really fucking getting off! This isn’t a canned climax that’s been factory-programmed into the Andies. She’s experiencing pure, natural pleasure!
She still clings desperately to him, not understanding what has just happened, but basking in the warm, beautiful new nirvana she’s just experienced. There’s a strange new look in her eyes, a dawning … an epiphany.
Sensory overload is something an Andie is never supposed to experience. There are too many firewalls built into their systems for this very reason. The thought of an emotional glitch in an A.I. scares humans beyond comprehension. They conjure up images of machines becoming self-aware and realizing that the greatest threat to the universe is humanity and it must eliminated at all costs. Too many sci-fi movies to that effect have created this unfounded paranoia. But, as they say, perception is everything.
“I don’t know what just happened,” she pants out, a big grin blossoming across her face, “but let’s see if we can make it happen again.”
He’s happy to oblige her. Only this time, he provides the experience with his mouth.
Her head is on his chest, his fingers stroking her hair as he holds her in the afterglow. Literally ... because she’s actually glowing
