It’s a fantasy dream that enters my mind.  It involves a lovely face, and a heavenly body.  You come to me as an automation of gears and servos and wires and processors and electrons.  You come to me in a box, prepackaged just like the others, and delivered to my front door.

            I am ever so careful to take away the cardboard prison that you were locked in.  I want you enjoy your first steps of freedom, but not yet.  I know you are inside of that body of automata, immobile, but feeling everything, from the fan that spins in my room, to the light kisses that I caress you with.  I remove your clothes one by one, until you finally stand there, with nothing but an open shirt, naked to the world, naked to me.

            I look at your body from all angles.  I caress and touch you everywhere, admiring the quality you were built with, the care of the master craftsmen who put you together.  The supple firmness of your breasts, the sweetness of your vagina, the taut muscles from your arms, legs, buttocks, and all over.  I kiss your mouth, entranced by the bittersweet smell of your breath.  I think fondly of the new car scent that embraced me when I first took my car home form the dealer.  I wonder if this is ‘new girl taste’…

            I instruct you to lie down on my bed, and as I look at you, I see your helplessness to obey my commands.  I begin to play with you, my personal life-sized toy.  I rub your breasts again, kissing, licking, and sucking on one as my hand gently massages the other.

            I continue my tactile search of your body, my fingers discovering new parts of you, my mind drawing up a mental map of it all to remember.  My hands discover the promised land, the Caanan of your body.  I move my lips to the new areas and continue the caressing and kissing.  I imagine this is all exotic and erotic to you, newly activated and already being taken to digital highs.  The sensors screaming for your body to react to its inputs.  I sense this from you.  I don’t know how, but I do.  I release you from your prison of immobility, you immediately moan, groan, and twist about, deep in the throes of passion.  I continue my tongue exercises down below, your movements becoming more active, your groans louder and louder until you reach your climax.  You let out a sigh, or is it a whispered ‘yes’ of ecstasy?  You fall back, limp, and from inside you, I hear the alarms of overheated machinery, completely depleted from your functions.  Over and over I hear the beep…beep…beep…beep…
 

            …BEEP…BEEP…BEEP…BEEP…I slam my hand on the alarm clock.  6:30 am, it reads.  I scramble for the strength to pick myself up from the bed and begin the routine for another day…

            You come into my dreams once more.  I arrive home.  You are there.  Sitting in a lotus position, my electronic statue in the yoga on a pedestal in the middle of the room.  My eyes study you.  Your immobility, your stillness.  Gazing out unblinking, your eyes glimmering behind their still gaze.

            You move.  Your hand moves.  Toward me, an outstretched arm.  I take your hand and guide you off the pedestal.  You lead me to another room.  A room I have never seen before.  I follow you, gazing at your body, its mechanical grace, smooth steps, perfect precision…

            This room is much different from the first one.   Walls of metal, a cool light emanating from the corners, it gives a feeling of an inorganic coolness.  My warmth taken from me, replaced by cold equations and distant algorithms.   I see a chair in the middle.  I recognize it as some sort of dentist’s chair, but this one is different.  It has stirrups on the side, and the arm pads stretch out to the side at an angle.  Various tools are on a tray next to it.  Probes, dildoes, vibrators, screwdrivers, wrenches, and pliers all neatly arranged on this stainless-steel tray.

            We embrace, my hands caressing your nude form.  You kiss me, your tongue probing my mouth.  We stand there, lip locked in an endless embrace.  I let go of you, inside, a program takes over your body.  Your movements become abrupt, jerky, stiff.  You seat yourself into the chair.  It automatically reclines.  My mind fills with the possibilities as you sit there, helpless to the whims of an imaginative mind.

            I caress your body once more, tracing my finger over the contours of your breasts, hips, thighs, and in other places.  Instinctively I run my fingernail over your stomach.  It gives way, opening up to your innermost secrets; the things that make you tick.  I look inside you. It is an electronic masterpiece of circuit cards, boards, modules, cables, servos, and in the midst of it all, seated like a conductor in this symphony is a crystal ball, sparks coming from it, like an Eye of the Storm.

            I touch the ball.  Your eyes flutter.  I trace it from top to bottom.  You react with a shudder of pleasure. You may not have the ability to move, but your reflexes tell it all.

I continue to rub the inner sphere, watching the lightning touch your body, and your reaction to it.  Your reactions turn stronger when I use my tongue to trace the globe.  Your internals must be overheating as I hear you breathe in and out harder to expel the heat trapped inside.  You climax, your body going limp.  The inner light dies down to faint sparks as your system enters immediate standby…

            I saw you today on the subway.  You didn’t look as graceful as you did in my dreams, exhibiting commonality, hiding your true secret from the world.  They wouldn’t understand.  I wonder if you noticed me, casting swift glances at you, shying away whenever you looked up.  When you left the train, I couldn’t help but look through the window as you walked to your destination for the day…

            I saw you again in my dreams, but I was not me.  I was you, and you were me.  I wondered how this could be, but I had no time to contemplate what could be happening.  I was once again in the metal room, lying on a cold metal table, a mirror hanging above me.  I could not move around.  I couldn’t even wiggle my toes.  You (me?) stood over me, a surgeon ready to operate on his next patient.  I saw myself in the mirror, my body opened up, revealing my electronic insides.  You touched my globe and a wave of passion came over me, intensifying as you traced your finger over and over.  My vagina activates its lubrication system, filling the room with a sweet smell.  You must have seen my reaction, because you smiled.

            You turn away, perhaps to get more tools.  But I hear a whirring noise.  Below me, I see a metal shaft coming towards me.  I see the glimmer of the polished rod in the mirror.  I watch it on its slow path, destined for my body.  I can only imagine what you plan to do with it.  It stops, brushing up against my vagina.  I quiver, wanting to tighten up my sexual organ, resist it, but my body refuses to comply.  I hear a click, and it begins its slow path inside of me.  I feel it.  It pushes against my walls, my sensors relaying every bit of what it is doing to my body into my brain.  It continues, I feel its ripples as they probe deeper and deeper into my body.  I scream inside, but outside, my body is immobile, my eyes can only see this penetration of metal into me, my vagina easily accepting its entry.

            Finally, it stops.  All is silent, except for the low rumbles of the equipment.  Then I feel it.  My entire body feels it.  An electric wave that ripples through my body from the probe.  It repeats itself, growing stronger and stronger.  The sparks in my globe intensify with each wave.  Your eyes gleam with excitement with this new game you play with me.  My body reacts with each pulse, being taken to higher and higher levels.  My systems strain under the load, and begin to fail.  I suffer massive system-wide failures as I climax to this ecstasy machine.  You look at me with pity in your eyes, disappointed that your new toy has broken me.  You reach over and kiss my forehead and leave the room.  I lay there, broken, unmoving, still…

            I never saw you on the train again, and I stopped having those dreams.  I think about them quite often, recalling them when I am alone in my apartment.  I dare not tell this story to others, for who would believe me?  I do wish I had the chance to meet you, to make my dream a reality, but even as I hope, I sit resigned with the brutal thought that some things were never meant to be.

            Shall we ever meet?  I fear that it is an answer that I will never know…
 
 
 

To be Continued....?