Contemporary short fiction, poetry and more

‘The Companion’: chapter 3 (content warning: sex)

In spite of Kelvin’s dalliance with the unknown woman, I have been happy today.  I recently returned from the android equivalent of hospital where I had two enhancements, one of which was paid for by Kelvin and the other – the more expensive – by me.  The one Kelvin paid for is wonderfully useful: I now have an ultrasound imaging system, with emitters and detectors in my fingers, toes, head and abdomen, software to Fourier-transform the signals, and a data bridge to enable the non-algorithmic part of my brain (the part I’m mostly using now) to “see” the images.  I have been round the house touching things and looking at them with my new sense.  The most interesting thing I discovered was a jar of couscous which we hardly ever use, inside which Kelvin had concealed a bottle which turned out on further inspection to contain vodka (some cheap stuff from the corner off-licence).

Kelvin arrived home from work, and I hugged him just after he had come through the front door.  This made him suspect that either I wanted something or had broken something which belonged to him.  What I was actually doing (as well as making a genuine display of affection) was trying out my ultrasound on him.  The emitters do not make any vibration which is detectable by humans.  I got a very good three-dimensional image of the inside of Kelvin’s torso, and discovered that he had probably skipped both breakfast and lunch: his stomach was empty of anything solid. 

‘Shall I make us some dinner?’ I offered.  He nodded.  He was not talking.  I went into the kitchen to get a bottle of wine (a nice claret) and poured us each a glass.  I was planning to cook fillet steak (Kelvin likes his almost burnt on the outside but raw in the middle, and relishes the sight of blood running out of it).  I was also planning to get Kelvin through dinner without letting him get too drunk. 

While I was waiting for the chips to cook, I went back into the sitting room to see what Kelvin was doing.  He was not reading.  He was not even drinking very quickly.  He was twirling his wine round and round in the glass, and staring towards the corner of the room.  I could see in an instant that there was no point in asking him what was on his mind.  My best guess at what he was thinking about was that it must be something to do with his paramour and, whatever it was, it was making him sad.  One possibility was simply that she had dumped him, but any woman who would have done that to Kelvin would have had to be such a bitch that he would never have had anything to do with her in the first place.  A better hypothesis was that he had found out that she was not able to join the Alpha Project.  I had no hard evidence for that, but it fitted with all the behaviour that I could observe. 

Kelvin came out of himself a little bit over dinner, and at least had the decency to praise the food I had prepared.  After I had loaded the dishwasher, I took the wine bottle away from him and poured him a small, decoy brandy.  He seemed to be getting sleepy as well as miserable, but he looked at me with a bemused expression.  After he had taken a few sips and was beginning to look a bit more spread-out on our big sofa, I made my move.  I slipped onto the floor in front of him and started to massage his thighs, gently at first.  He tensed, but then he always does.  He always starts by thinking that he does not want it.  He relaxed after a minute, and soon after that he was getting into it and I made the strokes a bit harder, gradually moving from his outer to his inner thighs.  I unzipped him and, in indecent haste, pulled his trousers and his boxer-shorts off.  I took his socks off as well.  I  started gently to massage his cock and balls and, at the same time, I slipped a finger into the cleft of his buttocks.  He began to moan with sexual arousal, never realising that I was using ultrasound to check out his prostate (it was fine – no enlargement or abnormality).  I noted with pleasure that his hydraulics were in good working order and seemed unimpaired by alcohol.  I masturbated him slowly but firmly and gently kissed his balls for a little while, but never let him get anywhere near ejaculation.  He groaned some more, and I gave him the look that meant ‘Shall we go to the bedroom?’  He did not say anything, but I saw that he meant ‘Yes’.  I was thoroughly wet by then.

I could offer Kelvin exactly the attire he finds the most alluring: skirt off to reveal stockings and suspenders; shiny high heels; blouse open, and bra left on but pulled down so that my tits were hanging out.  I lay down on the bed, he stuck his cock in me, and he fucked me slowly but deeply.  We both came quite quickly.  Kelvin looked visibly relieved, and not just sexually. 

He got up to get more booze, but I did not mind.  He finished the opened bottle of wine, offering me some but I knew he wanted me to refuse, otherwise he would have had to open another bottle.  He then had a couple of stiff brandies.  He fell asleep in my arms, without getting up to brush his teeth, and without drinking a big glass of water – with him a sure sign of mental exhaustion.

When his breathing was slow, regular, and loudened by the effects of the alcohol, I took my arm from around his body and moved down the bed to near his feet.  I decided to try out the other enhancement: the one Kelvin did not know about.  I have started to be fitted with a basic vascular system, which I am designing myself.  I took out a little pouch of dermal anaesthetic which I had taped to the inside of my arm earlier, and applied it generously to a patch of skin on the instep of each of Kelvin’s feet, where he has a couple of nice, prominent veins.  I gave it a few minutes to take effect.  I opened the index finger of both my left and right hands and extended from each a sterile hypodermic needle which I very slowly and carefully inserted into each of the veins.  I began to suck blood from his left foot, metabolised the alcohol, added a tiny bit of glucose and saline, and then pumped it back into his right foot.  When his blood alcohol level was down to about twenty milligrams per hundred millilitres, I withdrew the needles, gently wiped the skin, and put on some stuff to cover up the holes.  However Kelvin felt when he woke up the following morning, he would not have a hangover.  

While he was asleep, he started to have a vivid dream, and moaned something a few times.  It sounded like “Lieutenant Thorn”.


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