The dinner

The afternoon was painfully long and it was such a relief when evening came.

You arrived on foot. A small, cheap café, located a few blocks from your house. You once went with your parents, and since then, you thought it would be the perfect place for a date.

You took a table in a corner far enough away from the rest. Wooden furniture, dimly lit by more candles than electricity.

Layers of light bathed you both in gold. Incandescence and wax merging over your bodies. Her? Fiercely elegant. Sexy, but not obscene; stylish, but not opulent. If you didn't know her, you'd probably say she could dominate anyone with her rampant sexual energy, or better: that she could dominate and be dominated at the right moments.

It didn't take long for the waiter to arrive and ask if he could offer you a drink.

Yes: her breast milk, her sweat, her drool, and her cum.

You asked for a glass of water. She did too.

The waiter left the menu. After a few minutes, he came back and asked what you wanted. What did you want? Her. You wanted to die **** between her breasts, buttocks, or balls, please. How much for that?

Both ordered the cheapest dish on the menu.

When the waiter left, you said:

"How will this end? With us getting along badly? Will we, perhaps, realize that we are not so different, as a villain would say to a hero?"

"We've argued enough for today. I'm just hoping for a pleasant chat."

"That's good, so am I. How do you suggest we get there?"

"You can start by introducing yourself."

"Ok. My name is Timothy Wells. I'm 18 years old. You already know where I study. You know my family... And well, I don't know what else you'd like to know about me."

"Who am I, to you?"

"My sex toy. My companion. My property. Someone I like."

"I see."

"And who are you?"

"I am... 2B. I'm not sure what I am, or who I am, but I associate with Timothy Wells. I also know a lot about Alexandra Meany."

"Why are you here?"

"Because I can't be too far away from you, the owner of my physical capabilities, who wanted me to be here."

"Do you like me?"

"Not most of the time."

"Why?"

"You already know that."

"What could I do to make you like me more?"

"Being nicer, I guess? It's hard to explain, but if you could sometimes talk to me more kindly, it would help."

"I'll try. I don't mean for you to hate me, anyway."

"Glad to hear that."

"And you like sex?"

"Do you like me?"

"Yes. You are cute. And beyond the physical, I like the way you are. You're not a bitch, I mean."

"I see..."

Pause.

"Why did you bring me to dinner?"

"So we could get to know each other better, of course."

"Why are you interested in getting to know me better?"

"Because..."

"..."

"Besides the fact that I obviously want to fuck you, I like you. Your existence is tied to me, and I'd hate to see you unhappy for the rest of your days."

"Why don't you set me free?"

"I can't. Nor do I want to. Even if I gave you freedom of movement, you could not go beyond my neighborhood. If you tried, you'd feel horribly sick, to the point of wanting to die until you obey the restrictions of your OS."

"Oh..."

Pause. Longer this time.

"But don't take this the wrong way, we can get along."

"And to get along we have to fuck?"

"Not necessarily, but I'd appreciate it if you'd back me up on my note. Otherwise..."

"Are you really planning to **** me?"

"I have a cock, and you have holes conveniently designed to take it. But, really? I wouldn't want to. I'd rather we both enjoy sex."

A smile almost escaped her lips.

Too easy, you thought.

Their dinner was brought to both. The conversation stopped to eat a little.

Even watching her ingest food was delicious. You envied the morsel inside her mouth, to be in such intimate and passionate contact with her lips, teeth, tongue and throat. It was even more delicious to think where all those calories were going. Before leaving, they would be an intrinsic part of her body, they would be her.

"It gives me the creeps when you look at me like that."

"I can't help it. Your beauty hurts me. It hurts me that I can't be a part of it."

"Alright, alright, just... don't make it so noticeable, ok?"

"Ok."

You already had experience with that.

As your gaze scanned the place, you noticed that almost everyone looked at your Doll that way. You knew the gaze. The manifestation of a primitive and repressed desire for the unknown beauty. Jealousy.

Wait, jealousy? Really? No, it couldn't be. You couldn't blame them for being attracted to your, errr…. absolute goddess of a partner. It was more like a sense of protectiveness towards your property. Like the kid who brings the fanciest toy to playtime and knows everyone wants to take it away from him.

Or something like that.

"And what do you like to do?"

"Masturbate."

"But do you have plans for the future or something?"

"Make love to you. Pass the course. Graduate."

"And then?"

"I don't know. Many have tried to sell me a future, but I haven't bought one. And you?"

"I'm just barely adapting to all this. It's too early to think about that."

"I guess."

"I won't get old, right?"

"No. You might require maintenance after prolonged use, but as far as I know, Love Dolls are not biodegradable."

"Will I die?"

"Yes. You are not made of imperishable materials."

"And when the time comes, will you modify my mind?"

"Most likely. But I'll tell you this: maybe not. Maybe we'll be getting married when the course is over. Maybe we'll love each other very much, and I won't want to modify anything about you."

"And how do we get there?"

"Are you interested?"

"Not the way you think."

"That's fine."

Pause.

"But tell me about yourself, do you remember anything from that past life of yours that you'd like to share with me?"

"Not really. I mean, my original self is still out there. It would be dangerous for me to spread personal information just like that."

"I get it. What about LaVerne? Do you know anything we could use against him? Address, hobbies, vices, family, children, and so on? Don't you want to hurt him?"

"I hardly know anything about his personal life. What could you do against him?"

"It would depend on the information. But hey, don't say I didn't try to ease your situation."

Some looks were more obvious than others.

You wondered what the world would do to a Love Doll roaming free upon it. She wouldn't even have the ability to defend herself against the first person or persons who decided to use her and then mutilate her, destroy her, **** her. Terrifying. Perhaps she should avoid leaving the house as much as possible, and hide her physical appearance as best she could if going outside was neccesary. Because eventually she will miss the outdoors. It happens to all of us. You had an idea.

"Hey... tomorrow... would you like to see the sunrise with me?"

"The sunrise? Yeah, sure. Sounds good."

Short pause.

"Can I stroke your hair?"

"..."

"Test of trust?"

"..."

"Please. PLEASE."

"Go ahead, but make it quick."

She bowed her head and you patted her.

"Good girl."

"Don't humiliate me."

Silky. A shifting surface to your touch. Thousands of threads over your palm, painstakingly rubbing against each other. You moved down to her cheek. It was so soft! Cotton, clouds.

She turned her head away as soon as you touched her skin. "Not the face!"

"Sorry."

You almost told her that was the hand you jerked off with.

Prolonged pause.

She hid her gaze. "I've never had sex."

"I know. Me neither."

"I mean in my past life."

"Really?"

She nodded.

Come to think of it, she was like 4 days old.

Oh no.

Does that mean you wanted to fuck an undera[STOP RIGHT THERE TIM. DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT FINISHING THAT SENTENCE.

Let's see, let's see, let's see... There must be something in CHYOA's rules....

Come on, this story can't end now! Not like this. We haven't even gotten to the first sex scene. (Or maybe the real sex scene were the friends we made along the way?)

Ah, here it is!

gene.sis? Who is this guy? No idea, but people ask him (him?) questions.

Oh, he wrote the "Rules" chapter. Well, here it says:

"The time of existence can be ignored for robots without living cells based on DNA. [...] But mental and physical age must still be 18 or older for all parts of the robot."

Ahhhhh... Peace of mind again!

Now, back to the story.]

"Are you okay?" she asked, "Are you... sweating?"

"Ignore it, dear. Just, well, I-I was hoping you had at least a bit of experience."

She shook her head. "Even less with a cock. By the way, and if you don't mind me asking, why a cock, are you...?"

Dammit. She's gonna say it, isn't she?

"...bisexual?"

A pleasant surprise that she didn't say <<gay>>.

"No. Well, I don't know. I mean, I know what I like, but it has always bothered me to have to put it all in one word. It seems a waste of time."

"I see."

"I can affirm, at least, that I'm not asexual."

"Do your parents know?"

"No. They wouldn't understand. They'd be shocked if they knew about your cock. Please don't tell them."

She nodded.

Short pause.

"And you? What is your sexual orientation?"

"Hmm. Maybe it's the same for me as for you.”

"And do you like cocks or pussies better?"

"How am I supposed to know?"

“I have a cock and an asshole. Not exactly a pussy, but something's something."

She rolled her eyes.

Some clients passed by who saw her that way. They weren't subtle at all.

"Something wrong?"

"You have a lot of eyes on you."

"Does it make you uncomfortable?"

"I was about to ask you the same."

"I'll have to get used to it. Thanks to someone who decided to give me this body."

"You're welcome."

"But does it bother you?"

"I wouldn't want them to hurt you."

"Awww."

You blushed slightly, "It's not with the intention you think."

"Sure, whatever you say."

Another pause.

"And are you interested in fucking?"

She laughed. "It's amazing that you don't realize it."

"Realize what?"

"Realize it."

“What?”

“It.”

"What are you talking about?"

"That, when you're not talking about yourself, you're just complaining or talking about something sexual."

Maybe it was a mistake to give her balls....

You both finished dinner. You paid the bill, and then went home.

What a pleasant evening, you thought.