Fallout NV fic: RTFM
This is practically canon okay.
Title: RTFM
Characters: James Garret/Fisto.
Rating: Mature, explicit. Contains a brief dubcon-y moment.
Word count: 1131
Summary: Written for the Fallout kinkmeme: James Garret tests Fisto. For science.
---
James triple-checked that the bedroom door was locked, then turned to face the towering figure of the sexbot. It stood there patiently, quiet save for the faint hum of idling motors.
Despite its purpose, there wasn't anything obviously sexy about it. Its shape was bipedal yet still inhuman, even lacking so much as a pair of giant metal tits. He'd been expecting something a bit more aesthetically pleasing, or at least recognizably masculine or feminine - something with sleek lines and chrome curves. Instead, the robot just looked like a standard-issue Protectron. James felt a little ambivalent. He'd never humped military hardware before.
He approached the thing and circled it, weighing up the pros and cons. What if something went wrong while he was using it? How would he explain that to people, assuming he survived the malfunction? If it became known that he'd dallied with a robot, then he'd forever be known as James Garrett the Robot Fucker. All of his achievements would be eclipsed by the fact that he'd once stuck his tender bits in the loveless openings of a machine. He couldn't have that. And yet...
Damn it all, he was still willing to take that risk. He hadn't gone to all this trouble to locate a working sexbot just to keep the thing in a corner so he could make moony eyes at it. If he didn't fuck that robot, then he'd regret it to his grave. By deliberating, all he was doing was delaying the inevitable.
He squared his shoulders and, summoning his courage, tapped his knuckles against the robot's chassis.
"Fisto reporting for duty. Please assume the position," said the sexbot.
It was named Fisto. Because things weren't bad enough already.
James had no idea what 'the position' was, but he figured that he ought to take off his pants, as that seemed like a basic requirement. He pulled his trousers down to his ankles and wondered how the hell this was going to work. Fisto lacked any visible appendages or orifices, and it seemed pretty unlikely that its pincers were going to give anything approaching a decent handjob. He could already picture himself visiting the Followers, trying to explain to their doctors how he'd accidentally peeled all the skin off his dick. Perhaps he should've figured out the bot's shutdown command before initiating anything, but...
The pincers on the robot's left 'hand' retracted, distracting James from his line of thought, and a panel opened up in its palm, revealing an aperture that, at that moment, seemed just the right size for the average manhood. Rather wisely, James decided to stick his finger in the hole first, just to make sure that it didn't contain some sort of sadistic penis-crunching device. It didn't. Instead, it felt smooth, oily, and pleasantly warm.
Well, here goes nothing, James thought, and gingerly inserted his cock into the hole.
Almost immediately, he felt a steady, rhythmic suction gently tugging on his flesh, like he was balls-deep in sort of marvelous hooker/shop-vac hybrid. It felt... good. Hell, it felt more than good, it felt perfectly efficient. His previous anxieties fled from his mind, and he gripped Fisto's torso, letting out a long, relieved groan. Yes. He was living the dream. This was what he'd always wanted: a sexual partner who didn't have to breathe through their nose, never got cramp, and lacked a gag reflex.
He shut his eyes for a moment, then heard the quiet whine of servos again, and felt metal on his bare buttocks. When he looked over his shoulder, he saw that Fisto had telescopically extended its free arm and reached around to place its hand against his ass. The pincers had retracted again (thank god), to be replaced with a widget that, suspiciously, resembled a very rounded, almost organic-looking version of a fuel injector. Before he could speak, the damn thing pushed itself between his cheeks and squirted some sort of greasy liquid up his asshole. It felt a bit like experiencing diarrhea, but in reverse.
"Holy FUCK what are you doing?" James asked, quite rightly.
"I am programmed for your pleasure," said Fisto. It was probably meant to be reassuring. The... thing slowly pushed itself deeper into his body, hardly giving his muscles time to react - fortunately, it wasn't big enough to cause pain. James reflexively spread his legs to minimize the discomfort. He told himself to relax, but that was easier said than done when there was a robot embedded where the sun didn't shine.
See, this was why he should've read the manual first.
When the initial shock subsided, it didn't feel so bad. He would've appreciated it more if Fisto had given him more warning before playing proctologist, though - or at least bought him dinner first. The... what should he call it? Arm-mounted robocock? Dildotron? There probably wasn't a technical term for it, so he settled with 'the metal thing'. The metal thing began to move back and forth, massaging him until he could accommodate it better. It was perfectly timed with the rhythm of the sucking, making waves of pleasure roll from the tip of James's cock to the small of his back.
James decided to experiment with it. "More," he said.
The thing gradually expanded inside him (he had no idea how; he figured he'd get a closer look at it when it wasn't stuck in an awkward place), stretching him, but not uncomfortably. It must've had pressure sensors in it so it knew when to stop. James shifted his weight and bent his knees slightly, changing the angle so it was rubbing against his prostate, then shivered as it hit just the right spot. God, it felt so good. Right, that was it: he was going to marry this machine. He didn't care about being known as James Garrett the Robot Fucker. It didn't even matter that the Protectron had all the sex appeal of an engine block. James could see beyond superficial surface appearance. He was in love.
"Harder," he murmured.
The speed increased. Oh boy, did it increase. Apparently, the thing only came with two settings: 'gentle' and 'sudden cardiac arrest'. It pumped into his ass, almost pushing him off balance. It didn't hurt, but it felt... actually, there weren't human words for what the sensation felt like. Each thrust forced an involuntary grunt out of his mouth. He gripped onto whatever he could as if he was clinging on for dear life, unable to do anything other than let himself be fucked. His balls ached. The room felt too hot. His knees buckled. He could see sound and taste time. Black spots darted in front of his eyes. Oh Jesus, he was worried that, if he came, he'd end up ejaculating all of his body weight in fluid and his sister would have to break into the room and find a dessicated corpse with a robot's hand up its butt. But if he died it would be COMPLETELY WORTH IT.
He could hear a man making crazed animals sounds, and realized it was him.
Just when he thought his eyeballs were going to explode, he climaxed. For a brief eternity, he floated on a pristine sea of ultimate enlightenment. Then, slowly, he returned to Earth. The sexbot drained him dry until his poor cock went limp, and then he felt the machine retract from his sensitive parts. James made himself stand up properly, and wiped his watery eyes on his wrists.
Fisto had no mouth, but if it did, it would've been smoking a cigarette.
Not quite knowing what to do, James patted the robot on the shoulder.
"Operation complete. Thank you for your business," Fisto said.
"Best money I ever spent," James said. He pulled up his pants and staggered away before he could get all emotional.
Title: RTFM
Characters: James Garret/Fisto.
Rating: Mature, explicit. Contains a brief dubcon-y moment.
Word count: 1131
Summary: Written for the Fallout kinkmeme: James Garret tests Fisto. For science.
---
James triple-checked that the bedroom door was locked, then turned to face the towering figure of the sexbot. It stood there patiently, quiet save for the faint hum of idling motors.
Despite its purpose, there wasn't anything obviously sexy about it. Its shape was bipedal yet still inhuman, even lacking so much as a pair of giant metal tits. He'd been expecting something a bit more aesthetically pleasing, or at least recognizably masculine or feminine - something with sleek lines and chrome curves. Instead, the robot just looked like a standard-issue Protectron. James felt a little ambivalent. He'd never humped military hardware before.
He approached the thing and circled it, weighing up the pros and cons. What if something went wrong while he was using it? How would he explain that to people, assuming he survived the malfunction? If it became known that he'd dallied with a robot, then he'd forever be known as James Garrett the Robot Fucker. All of his achievements would be eclipsed by the fact that he'd once stuck his tender bits in the loveless openings of a machine. He couldn't have that. And yet...
Damn it all, he was still willing to take that risk. He hadn't gone to all this trouble to locate a working sexbot just to keep the thing in a corner so he could make moony eyes at it. If he didn't fuck that robot, then he'd regret it to his grave. By deliberating, all he was doing was delaying the inevitable.
He squared his shoulders and, summoning his courage, tapped his knuckles against the robot's chassis.
"Fisto reporting for duty. Please assume the position," said the sexbot.
It was named Fisto. Because things weren't bad enough already.
James had no idea what 'the position' was, but he figured that he ought to take off his pants, as that seemed like a basic requirement. He pulled his trousers down to his ankles and wondered how the hell this was going to work. Fisto lacked any visible appendages or orifices, and it seemed pretty unlikely that its pincers were going to give anything approaching a decent handjob. He could already picture himself visiting the Followers, trying to explain to their doctors how he'd accidentally peeled all the skin off his dick. Perhaps he should've figured out the bot's shutdown command before initiating anything, but...
The pincers on the robot's left 'hand' retracted, distracting James from his line of thought, and a panel opened up in its palm, revealing an aperture that, at that moment, seemed just the right size for the average manhood. Rather wisely, James decided to stick his finger in the hole first, just to make sure that it didn't contain some sort of sadistic penis-crunching device. It didn't. Instead, it felt smooth, oily, and pleasantly warm.
Well, here goes nothing, James thought, and gingerly inserted his cock into the hole.
Almost immediately, he felt a steady, rhythmic suction gently tugging on his flesh, like he was balls-deep in sort of marvelous hooker/shop-vac hybrid. It felt... good. Hell, it felt more than good, it felt perfectly efficient. His previous anxieties fled from his mind, and he gripped Fisto's torso, letting out a long, relieved groan. Yes. He was living the dream. This was what he'd always wanted: a sexual partner who didn't have to breathe through their nose, never got cramp, and lacked a gag reflex.
He shut his eyes for a moment, then heard the quiet whine of servos again, and felt metal on his bare buttocks. When he looked over his shoulder, he saw that Fisto had telescopically extended its free arm and reached around to place its hand against his ass. The pincers had retracted again (thank god), to be replaced with a widget that, suspiciously, resembled a very rounded, almost organic-looking version of a fuel injector. Before he could speak, the damn thing pushed itself between his cheeks and squirted some sort of greasy liquid up his asshole. It felt a bit like experiencing diarrhea, but in reverse.
"Holy FUCK what are you doing?" James asked, quite rightly.
"I am programmed for your pleasure," said Fisto. It was probably meant to be reassuring. The... thing slowly pushed itself deeper into his body, hardly giving his muscles time to react - fortunately, it wasn't big enough to cause pain. James reflexively spread his legs to minimize the discomfort. He told himself to relax, but that was easier said than done when there was a robot embedded where the sun didn't shine.
See, this was why he should've read the manual first.
When the initial shock subsided, it didn't feel so bad. He would've appreciated it more if Fisto had given him more warning before playing proctologist, though - or at least bought him dinner first. The... what should he call it? Arm-mounted robocock? Dildotron? There probably wasn't a technical term for it, so he settled with 'the metal thing'. The metal thing began to move back and forth, massaging him until he could accommodate it better. It was perfectly timed with the rhythm of the sucking, making waves of pleasure roll from the tip of James's cock to the small of his back.
James decided to experiment with it. "More," he said.
The thing gradually expanded inside him (he had no idea how; he figured he'd get a closer look at it when it wasn't stuck in an awkward place), stretching him, but not uncomfortably. It must've had pressure sensors in it so it knew when to stop. James shifted his weight and bent his knees slightly, changing the angle so it was rubbing against his prostate, then shivered as it hit just the right spot. God, it felt so good. Right, that was it: he was going to marry this machine. He didn't care about being known as James Garrett the Robot Fucker. It didn't even matter that the Protectron had all the sex appeal of an engine block. James could see beyond superficial surface appearance. He was in love.
"Harder," he murmured.
The speed increased. Oh boy, did it increase. Apparently, the thing only came with two settings: 'gentle' and 'sudden cardiac arrest'. It pumped into his ass, almost pushing him off balance. It didn't hurt, but it felt... actually, there weren't human words for what the sensation felt like. Each thrust forced an involuntary grunt out of his mouth. He gripped onto whatever he could as if he was clinging on for dear life, unable to do anything other than let himself be fucked. His balls ached. The room felt too hot. His knees buckled. He could see sound and taste time. Black spots darted in front of his eyes. Oh Jesus, he was worried that, if he came, he'd end up ejaculating all of his body weight in fluid and his sister would have to break into the room and find a dessicated corpse with a robot's hand up its butt. But if he died it would be COMPLETELY WORTH IT.
He could hear a man making crazed animals sounds, and realized it was him.
Just when he thought his eyeballs were going to explode, he climaxed. For a brief eternity, he floated on a pristine sea of ultimate enlightenment. Then, slowly, he returned to Earth. The sexbot drained him dry until his poor cock went limp, and then he felt the machine retract from his sensitive parts. James made himself stand up properly, and wiped his watery eyes on his wrists.
Fisto had no mouth, but if it did, it would've been smoking a cigarette.
Not quite knowing what to do, James patted the robot on the shoulder.
"Operation complete. Thank you for your business," Fisto said.
"Best money I ever spent," James said. He pulled up his pants and staggered away before he could get all emotional.