Tales From Gulliver's Planet: Little Girl Blew (Part I) free porn video

Tales from Gulliver's Planet: Little Girl Blew Part I Dear Mr. Ames, we have received your petition and can assure you that our consideration of your requests are ongoing. Legalities aside, and because (as you so aptly wrote) "you hold all the cards", we want to impart to you our deepest appreciation of your decision, however preemptive, to refrain from releasing your version of the recent events on the PR lightwaves. The modules you requested will include all versions of your inadvertent downloads and are being prepared currently. They will be transmitted by Full and URD Wave to a bank, rental institution or informational repository to be collected and/or experienced at your convenience. As we are a public and open company, you are free and we encourage you to audit our proceedings and handling of this rare phenomena. Sincerely, Gulliver C.E.O. / Founder of Gulliver's Paradise Franchise Inc. # # # Alex Ames watched the blonde travel agents rush around getting things in place for his vacation. They bounced, some parts more than others. They giggled. They occasionally bumped into each other and squealed, re- sticking the pink veneer to their bottoms which constantly peeled away in the most conveniently stimulating places. He sighed. He needed a desert island, a deserted post-apocalyptic city or maybe a farm in pioneer country--a distant moon needing terra-formed. He had designed far too many virtual ad girls like the spry ones scampering before him now. Too many advertisements that were designed to cut through the white noise of modern sexuality. He was good at his job, but honestly, he was burned out. He was thinking of switching to the greeting wave division. Send some one line Happy Birthday greetings to worlds of disinterested workers. He had chosen the bot-body of a very large Swede with nice pecs and firm, strong legs. He was still considering pleasure domes. He hoped Gulliver did robots as well as he did clones. It was an 18 day trip just to get to the nearest wormhole capable of delivering someone into clone territory. Here in the BD-6 system, clones were illegal. Of any type or variety. Even for recreation. Even when you really needed one. He grinned privately. Gulliver had found a way around that, of course, ever the entrepreneur. He'd turned to highly sophisticated androids with virtually the same U / D capacity. But the last android Alex had tried had been just terrible, full of internal noises, whines, clicks, and the brain had been so sluggish that the lag of thinking to action had been almost disorienting. But it had been a Gulliver Doll. He heard people raving daily about the G-Dolls, how amazing they were, how had Gulliver managed it? And so on. He hoped he'd be pleasantly surprised, but he had to admit, he was more than a little cynical. The people raving were probably just victims of the latest ad-virus, repeating things they'd heard (from a suspiciously convenient origin), but hadn't actually experienced. Both blondes bounced to a stop before him, hands behind them, smiling wide, mouths full of sparkling white teeth. "We're ready for you, Mister Ames." In unison, no less. They caressed him as he moved between them, soothed his suit away, eased him out of his shirt, their soft hands taking pleasant liberties. The air was heavy with sweet smelling sedatives, the chiming undertones dulling him as he moved to the table. The whole place was warm and dim like a womb, putting him involuntarily at ease. The cushion responded to his nakedness immediately, relaxing beneath him, sensing the galvanic activity in his skin and warming, shaping to give him the most comfort. There was still that brief nano-second of cold, hard, unfeeling stone, which he hated, which was forgotten almost as quickly as he sensed it. The machine above him whirred to life and began the job of categorizing all one hundred billion and one of his neuronic connections. He'd paid a lot of money for this vacation. Gulliver better not disappoint. In a few seconds he felt his breaths coming and going in slower and slower cycles as the a gentle lethargy overwhelmed him. Soon, he heard himself snore. Before he could think another thought, he was swallowed by a warm, dark presence, which felt like the description they always used.... "Carried by a Godhand to your new destination... in new... worlds... in....... a... new........ bo.... dy.... # # # There was a loud clank. Metal on metal, wrenching, grinding, piercing like nails on a chalkboard. Clicking, too. A lot of clicking. There was the distant sound of a buzzing alarm, too annoying to ignore. ENH! ENH! ENH! ENH! His first thoughts rushed around in a panic, assuming something had gone wrong and that the alarm was the signal that his body, his real body, probably a few feet away was dying, was in cardiac arrest. When the rest of his thoughts caught up, he realized it couldn't be his body, because it was probably ten light years away. There was another loud clank. Metal on metal, more wrenching and groaning and dull thunder. As the rest of his thoughts formed a limited consciousness, he thought to himself, "This is even lousier than the last doll I was in!" He was jerked to life from his relaxed position. He was thrown forward into something solid. He opened his eyes but couldn't see. The pads of his fingers told him he was touching glass. He smelled smoke. He heard dull explosions. He heard the whining of an EMT booster somewhere, struggling. He was paralyzed with fear. He tore the harness from around his shoulders and wondered how he knew they were there. Maybe he'd felt him, the restriction, the plastico cutting into his flesh. He had flesh. That was a good thing. Wherever he was, he was in a body, probably the big Swede. But he shouldn't be on a ship; he should be on the solid ground of Gulliver-9. Then he wondered how he knew he was on a ship. The boosters went into overdrive. There was a sputtering among the whining. One of them was failing. He blinked his eyes open and saw the shimmer of glass before him. Double vision. No, not double vision. A ship breaking up. He realized he wasn't breathing as the metal hull of the ship tore away. He saw the hazy surface of a planet below. He screamed, and in some distant part of his brain, he wondered who was screaming and why it didn't sound like him. The image winked out. The sound closed down around him, until he was left listening to his own body, only there wasn't anything left to listen to, no breathing, no heartbeat, just the dull rustle of his limbs trying to slip back into the harness. # # # He was on the ground, looking through a glass door. He saw the clutter, the wreckage. He saw bodies, frail, pale and small. He worked his way out of the harness, but he was encased in a pod. He pushed and pushed on the glass door, but it wouldn't budge. Finally, in desperation, he hit it with his balled up fist. The glass door shattered into safety particles and showered down like rain around him. The pods were designed that way, he remembered, timed to disintegrate a few minutes after the safety gyro clicked. He crawled on his hands and knees and collapsed near a body. He turned her over, and panicked when he saw a face, a girl's face, so young, so beautiful, so pale and perfect and sweet. His stomach lurched, because she wasn't moving, wasn't breathing, then he realized she didn't have any hair. The light blue codex across her skull, just barely visible in the harsh Sunlight, meant she wasn't a girl; she was a doll. He looked around at them all, some face down, some face up, sprawled on their sides. They were all dolls. He breathed with relief. He was wobbly, but somehow managed to get to his feet. His first few steps were stiff and uncertain, but quickly a sense of balance and motion returned. He searched among the dolls for any crew that might have been board. If there had been any, they had probably jettisoned at the first sign of trouble. Well, maybe not the first sign. After all, dolls like this were probably a very expensive cargo. He thought about calling out, but his voice wasn't working so well yet. He could barely manager a hoarse croak, much less a shout. He climbed on top of the wreckage and scanned his surroundings. A green desert stretched in all directions as far as his eyes could see. He knew this place. What other planet has a green-tinted desert? The quartz crystals of the sand happened to catch the light that way. This was Jane's Place or more formally "Jahnisplaz". He saw a patch of blue sand in the distance. He'd been here as a kid. Blue sand meant water. He kicked around the wreckage first, just in case he was missing something obvious. There was no sign of a crew, no water, no food. It had probably been unmanned. Just a cargo ship. He felt dizzy, but he managed at least an uneven pace out into the brighter than bright Sun of the desert. He'd come back to the ship once he had some water. He must be parched by now. Not that he felt it, but he would be. It might take days for a rescue ship to come. He could easily be dead by then. The blue sand pushed farther and farther away as he struggled to get closer and closer. A breeze blew across his skin and he shivered a little. He blinked slowly, heavily and worried he had a concussion. His hand floated unconsciously up to his forehead and came away with blood on his finger. He hadn't even thought to check himself for injuries before he started this foolish journey. What was he thinking? That was just it. He was in shock and probably not thinking clearly. Then his foot crunched down on something brittle which broke into a splash. He looked down and saw the blue particles of a crystalized lake. He fell to his knees and dove his hands into the crystals, at first rough on his fingers, then yielding into a soft wetness. "Oh, thank goodness." He wasn't thinking right, moving right or speaking right. He stroked the soft tissue of his neck looking for another wound, but he found only smooth flesh. In his mind's eye, there was a piece of metal sticking out of his neck he hadn't noticed, but in reality there was only a normal neck. It didn't explain why his voice sounded so weird. He crushed the crystals in his hand and slurped from the released water. He wasn't thirsty. Not at all. But it wasn't that hot. And he wasn't really tired, despite the fact that he'd been walking for a very long time. Then an inkling, a little gremlin of a thought appeared somewhere deep, but rising fast. He crushed the crystals in the ground until a pool of water formed. He cleared a place and waited for the water to settle, for it to form a reflective surface, then he bent over and checked the bloody wound on his forehead. He stared for a very long time. The inkling, the little gremlin of a thought pushed out the first worry, this time repeating like a chant. It started out like a distant voice, buried beneath the sand, but rising up to his lips which voiced it almost immediately. "What did they do?" The reflection, his reflection, was not the familiar tired face he was used to. Nor was it the giant blond Swede he'd paid for. It was that of a young girl. # # # No, not a young girl. A doll. One of the G-dolls, just like the ones littered across the wreckage. He was in a doll's body, a girl doll's body. He'd never broken a limb or been seriously injured in his life, so he didn't know what shock felt like, but he wondered if this was it. Then he wondered if wondering about being in shock meant you weren't. Then he realized that maybe he was just subconsciously finding a way to distract himself from his new slender fingers playing down over his body. No, the body that he was in. Not "his" body. This was all a monumental mistake. He would sue. By the time he was done, he would... own.... He realized he was staring down at his own breasts. He was covered in a slightly transparent pink membrane. Only his head, hands and feet were bare. Only they had the soft as butter texture of a creamy-smooth skin. He glanced down at the face in the glimmering pool, such a small face, so pert, perky, upturned lips, full and brownish-pink with gobs of shine that made them look permanently wet, both supple and helplessly sexual. His nose was so small; his eyes, so big. He blinked and saw the long lashes wave to him, beckoning, his dreamy eyes so clear and blue and glassy. With a start, he realized he was pouting. He smoothed his hand over his smooth skull and began to imagine himself with long flowing tresses of hair, blonde or maybe red, or dark and shiny black. "Stop that," he told himself, and finally realized his voice was so high and musical that there were practically no bass tones whatsoever. "Gulliver, you bastard, you fucked me." It was an uncontrollably musical insult with no merit, no heat. It sounded cute and grumpy. There was part of him that revolted at seeing himself this way. His stomach tightened with nausea, but suddenly his insides were awash with a minty-cool sensation. The other part of him was mesmerized, wide-eyed and fascinated, noticing the pinkish-white glassy nail on the end of his finger as it smoothed across his full upper lip. He pulled on the wet lip, let it snap back into position, so adorable. He couldn't help feeling a sense of excitement. She was so perfect in every way. He'd never had a fantasy or a dream of any girl that looked like this. He wondered if he shouldn't be suspicious about his inability to fantasize better. It couldn't wait forever, and that part of him that loved women rushed to get a better view of the body in which he found himself. He peered down and saw his breasts, held firmly up and together by the tight body suit, utterly enticing from any angle. For such narrow shoulders and such a petite body, he thought the breasts felt a little big. He laughed at himself and tried to ignore the sound of his own giggle, chirping like a songbird. If he were seeing this from a different point of view, her breasts would've been perfect. But the fact was with his current point of view, he couldn't see anything below them. All he saw was the soft line of his own cleavage, the full roundness of his own plumped up breasts and nothing else. He lay back in the crunching sand just to see what the rest of his body looked like. "Oh, shit!" He got a look at his waist, slipping ever inward, then sloping ever outward into a wide pair of hips, his neutered self, his long, smooth legs, his tiny feet. She had clean curving lines, the kind Alex used to relish when designing logos and working advert holos. If it hadn't been for the breasts, he would've felt genderless, hairless, smooth, more like a mannequin than a person. She had a perfect body though. Even in his condition, he felt a wave of desire. He and any man like him would pay a lot, go through hell and back to end up with a girl like this, so small, so feminine. He sighed heavily and watched his breasts rise and fall. He shook his head, put his face in his hands and felt the urge to cry. But not quite a normal urge. It was very odd. It was almost like a prompt, a question from somewhere inside him. Cry? He told it, and himself, no. No crying. His mind kept envisioning the smooth nothingness between his legs. There was nothing there. No hair. No genitalia. Well, girl genitalia, but girl genitalia looks like nothing until you get close and personal, until you manipulate it, open it? No. No crying. They'd castrated him. They'd stolen him from himself. This was not the large Swede he'd picked out for his vacation. This was the absolute, complete opposite. He stood and for the first time became acutely aware of the hang, swing and tender rub of his breasts. That was going to get real annoying real fast. "I need a?" Her cheery, chipmunk voice was too distracting, too depressing. ?I need a plan,' he thought. Get back to the ship or keep going forward? It could take days for someone to send a craft. He wasn't sure how resilient this girl's?this android's body was to weather. He realized he wasn't thirsty. He didn't need water. He was comfortable. But he couldn't be sure if it was hot or if she just wasn't programmed to feel heat. He felt a cool breeze, looked around. No heat waves in the distance, though there was plenty of Sunlight. He was betting it wasn't hot. It didn't feel hot, if that meant anything. Far off in the distance, if it wasn't some kind of strange mirage, he saw dark shapes. He couldn't be sure, but it might be buildings. He'd head for them, find someone, get a call out to Gulliver and demand they rectify the situation. As his small feet shuffled through the sand, he started using his businessman brain. Hell, he might actually come out ahead on this deal. He'd certainly get his vacation comped. He'd probably get a lot for free. All he had to do was ask. All he had to do was just hint that he was considering setting up a PRL, a little auto-biographical broadcast. It was hit or miss with most of those things, but any Lightwave Newscasts were certainly going to love a damaging piece like this. ?What I did on my Summer vacation,' he thought, but didn't like it. ?Gulliver Trip ends in Tears.' No good. But he had plenty of time to come up with a good tag, something good, something that would make Gulliver corporate shiver in their shorts, and do a few other things, too. He chuckled and once again tried to ignore the melodic flute music of his little girl giggle. # # # He raised his hand to the shape in the boat, felt his left breast lift and grow taut, felt the nipple respond by hardening to a little nub, pressing through the thin material. He snapped his hand down, brought it in close, lifted his arm at the elbow and tried to wave to the guy again. He'd even risked using his small voice to call out, but it didn't seem to carry very far. The man turned the boat around and pointed it toward the shore. It crunched and crashed through the crystals, sending large sandy sprays in the air, which fell in wet blue splashes. When the man was close enough, Alex could see he was a native. He was short and squat with a nose almost the same width of his face. The man stepped from the boat, his heavy boots crunching in the water. After dragging the hull onto the shore, he stepped a little too close for Alex's comfort. For a minute, he was afraid the guy was going to start sniffing him... or worse. "Where'd you come from?" the man's gravely voice croaked out. "I crash landed. Look, I need?" "What?" The man cocked his head. "I crash landed!" Even shouting, his tiny voice barely made a dent. It was too light, too quiet. He couldn't seem to make it sound serious, no matter how much he tried. Was it the shape of the bot's mouth or throat or tongue? Everything that came out sounded happy and full of smiles. The wind flapped against the man's hood and coat. He looked Alex up and down and snorted, rubbing the peppery whiskers on his chin. "Whad'you want?" Alex sighed and his breasts sighed with him. The man's eyes were parked there, each pupil pegged each dent of each nipple. Alex crossed his arms, hoping to get the guy's attention. It didn't work. The man's gaze drifted down to Alex's belly and hips, down is legs to his bare feet and back up again. "I want," Alex said as harshly as he could manage, which did sound a little grumpy, but not to the extent he was hoping for, more like a pouting child. "I want?I need a station or a P-line, anything I can use to contact?Are you listening to me?" He'd managed a good angry yell, but at the same time found himself stamping his foot and feeling yet another bounce of his breasts. It was not the effect he was trying to achieve. He couldn't believe it, but the guy had stuck his hand into the pockets of his pants and appeared to be fondling himself. "Is there a wave station anywhere around here?" Alex finally asked, risking letting one arm uncover his breasts so he could massage his temples. It felt good. A little too good, just the feeling of his fingertips on the sensitive skin of his face. He hadn't noticed it before, but he was actually feeling good all over, the crunchy sand underneath his feet, the slight tickle of the breeze across his lips. The man poked out a thumb, pointing behind him. "Back at the house." The man's eyes were parked on Alex's pert breasts. Alex covered them with his crossed arms, again. "Can you help me or not?" The man turned and walked away. "Yeah, yeah." Alex kicked sand at him. Futile, but it made him feel better. He followed the guy over a dune and saw a collection of huts. Domes, actually, but anything would do at this point. The man went into the largest structure and Alex followed. It was dark inside, but his eyes adjusted almost immediately. The place was a horder's paradise. Gears, mechanisms, electrical parts, food, beacons, crates everywhere. While the man slipped through the clutter effortlessly, Alex had to pick his footing carefully. The last thing he wanted to do was fall into a stack of holo disks. It wasn't the embarrassment he worried about; it was the man putting his grubby hands on his bot-flesh in the guise of helping him up. If he even tried to touch him or feel? He didn't want to think about it. "Excuse me," Alex tried, but the guy didn't notice. "Do you have any clothes, a jacket or something I could borrow?" He would really love to cover himself up, but the guy didn't pay him any attention. There was something different about having breasts. He noticed it now as he tiptoed through the mess. Before, he would just walk slowly, carefully, paying close attention to the floor and his feet. But now, he couldn't even see his feet, not without bending over some. He would have to peer over them to see the floor. Then there were the breasts themselves. They had a lot more weight than he expected, and that threw his balance off. He couldn't just navigate, he had to tiptoe and twist and keep his arms at shoulder height to avoid falling over. He almost felt like he was treading water. With a start, he realized the guy had paused at a door and was watching him. He felt his cheeks burn. That was interesting. Bots could blush. He had to give it to Gulliver, even though he was completely out of his element, the bot-neuronics were adjusting admirably, responding to his emotional state no less. Impressive. "I'm coming," he told the guy, hoping to appease him, hoping he'd turn around and stop ogling his breasts. He didn't blame the poor guy. He was well aware of his body and how it would affect any man, but enough was enough. He thought about saying something, but he just didn't want to be one of those girls that said things like that, besides he only had to put up with it for a little while longer. "In here," the man told him. It was a small compartment, and Alex had to squeeze past him to get inside. He was certain the man did it on purpose, blocking the door like that. He even thought he heard the guy sniffing him. It occurred to him that he could tell the guy what had happened, that he was actually a guy, but he wasn't sure how the man might react. He could react negatively, or maybe it wouldn't make a difference. After all, when you had a petite little body like this with an armful of breasts, would anything stop anyone from feeling the familiar pangs of lust? He'd been a guy long enough to know how magical and irresistible some women could be. They could haunt you with their smiles, with their hips, with the way they moved and talked. Hell, you'd leap off a bridge just to get another glimpse of a perfect ass. He realized suddenly, he had no idea what he looked like from behind. He could only imagine and tried not to. If it was anything like the rest of him, he wouldn't want anyone walking behind him, ever. The man slid the door closed, hit a button and the entire chamber began to whine. It was a small room, very small, and suddenly his stomach did a somersault. The floor became tacky and held his bare feet in place as they dropped. He was left staring straight ahead at the blank metal walls. Finally, he bit the bullet and looked at the guy. "Thank you, by the way." The man's eyes were pegged on Alex's breasts. Alex sighed and crossed his arms over them again. "I'm Alex," he tried, "What is your name?" He thought maybe if he engaged the guy in conversation those beady little eyes might shift up to his face at least once. "Rutger." His eyes didn't budge. Okay, now he was just being rude. "Where are we going?" He still wasn't quite used to the sound of his voice. Just a slight question in his tone seemed to sound like so much more. He bet he could ask which way to the bathroom and it would sound like he was asking for a back massage. Rutger licked his crusty lips, his eyes never leaving Alex's cleavage. "City." Alex ducked his head down, trying to catch Rutger's gaze. The man's yellowish whites finally looked up. "Which city?" "Antice." "Oh!" It was almost a squeal. He shook his head. Then he realized he'd forgotten his defensive, self-conscious posture and was now rocking back on his heels, hands clasped behind his ass, back arched, showing off his breasts proudly. He also realized he was smiling openly. When had that happened? He hunched over and covered himself again. "I mean, it's just that I've been there before." "Really?" Rutger's eyes were riveted on his breasts again, but at this point Alex could only blame himself. He had to keep a careful watch on the bot behavior or the damn thing would have him bending over and wagging his cleavage before he realized it. "Yes, a long time ago, when I was a little?" He'd almost said "boy". He caught himself. "When I was little, I mean. Has it changed much?" He tried turning away, hiding his breasts even more. "What?" Rutger's voice sounded distant. Alex turned and saw Rutger's eyes glued to his ass. He sighed heavily and tried to position himself half sideways. There was just no way to turn so some sexy part of him didn't show. Finally, after an eternity of blushing from head to toe and feeling eyes on every part of him, he felt the slowing of the chamber. The floor gave up it's tackiness and released his feet. "The city. Has it changed much?" Rutger pushed on the door. Not recommended, but people did it all the time. The door dissolved and the last few panels slid up out of sight. They landed and the bustling noise of the city attached them. It was bright and dirty. Noisy and vast. Rutger didn't wait around but started marching down the street. Alex hurried after him, feeling each and every bounce of his breasts. He could hold them down, but it was hard to walk fast that way. He tried letting go of them, but then they bounced even worse, which made him swing his arms weird and he felt like he was on display. He felt his cheeks burning, then suddenly realized he was smiling sweetly with big, cheerful eyes. He forced his face back to a frown. Just trying to hurry seemed to put the bot onto tiptoes. He slowed down. That was the second time he'd caught himself doing something without realizing it. Maybe it was the bot programming. He'd have to be more aware of what he was doing. With a start, he realized he'd lost Rutger. Then he realized why. He was painfully short. Everyone was at least a head taller than him. It had been tough to get any sense of the bot's body in the desert. There was nothing to measure himself by, and Rutger was so short he hardly counted, but here in the city, where normal people with normal heights lived, he had a sense of how small he really was. He found himself looking up at everyone, only to be greeted with appreciative intense eyes looking down at him. He knew he needed to get his situation straightened out soon, because being around people who look down at you all day was going to take it's toll. He was already feeling like a lost child. He looked for something to stand on, but everything was too tall. He didn't relish the idea of having to get on his hands and knees just to crawl up on something. He could picture his ass and his near naked body in the eyes of the city's commuters. He tried jumping up enough to see over an approaching man's shoulders, but the jolting bounce of his breasts made him plant both his bare-bot- feet on the ground permanently. They didn't just bounce once; they felt like they would never stop bouncing. He felt that urge again, a little tug from somewhere inside his mind, posing its request. Cry? No, not cry! He told himself. Dammit, no crying! He wasn't a girl. He wasn't a bot. He was just... screwed. A hand grabbed him by the upper arm and dragged him forward. It was Rutger, and he was pulling Alex bobbing and hopping behind him. A little fast, too. Alex felt his breasts bouncing out of control as he tripped and stumbled and struggled to match Rutger's pace. "Hey!" he tried, but Rutger was on a mission. He didn't even want to guess what would happen if he fell. Would he still be able to tell the "cry" request no if he skinned his knee? Did bots even have the ability to skin their knees? "Wait! Slow down!" His voice was whiny and pathetic, pleading. He'd been going for forceful and demanding, but it was hard to be demanding when someone's hand could wrap entirely around your upper arm, fingers lapping over thumb. He gave into the humiliation of being manhandled. After a block, Rutger took him by the shoulders and forced his back against the wall. Rutger wagged a finger at him. "Stay." As he walked away, Alex realized he'd stamped his foot again and was pouting. His arms had crossed, but were beneath his breasts, propping them up, creating far more cleavage than he intended. He caught himself and fixed his posture, trying to blend into the wall. Rutger disappeared into a building. For a moment, Alex thought he'd lost him, then he spotted him through a window talking to a tall, rugged man. It figured. The man was about the right width and height of the Swede body Alex had picked out for his vacation. He wondered if he shouldn't head over and give his side of the story since his squat companion hadn't shown signs of being especially verbal. As he started for the shop, he saw the two men nodding and smiling and shaking hands. Well, that was a good sign. Maybe he'd get some help after all. He made his way across the crowded street. He was bumped, tripped and pushed halfway down the block before he made it to the sidewalk. He was too damn short for people to see until they were right on top of him. Maybe, he hoped, the people of Antice were just really tall. That would be a nice surprise. He was guessing himself at a little over a hundred and sixty centimeters, if he was lucky. He couldn't wait to get his situation straightened out, if for no other reason because he was tired of looking up at everyone. He made it to the doorway and just spied the tall man flipping out a credit chip into Rutger's reader. That was odd. Shouldn't it be the other way around? Shouldn't Rutger be paying the man to help? He stepped into the shop and was met with a room of ice cold air. Smiling and rubbing his arms, he shivered and gave Rutger a little wave. Wait. That was wrong. The bot was doing it again. That had felt sweet and flirtatious, when he'd been going for something a little more basic. Too late though. He made his way over to the Rutger. "Didn't even have to get her. See? Smart, smart, smart. Wouldn't shut up the whole way." Alex frowned angrily. Wouldn't shut up? He'd barely said a word! The tall man's smile was filled with a lot of very bright, very white teeth. He studied Alex with the appreciation of a man who hopes to have the dessert in the glass case he saw on his way into the diner. "Well, hello there." Alex tried to smile without looking like he was interested in a bed for two. "So, are we all set?" "Engral, by the way." Alex felt his eyes go wide, his brows rise. "What?" "My name. It's Engral. And you're Alex?" He blinked and tried to stop smiling. Was it his imagination or was there a particularly cold breeze on his lips? Or were they wet? He hadn't licked them? How had they gotten wet? Was it some strange automatic response? "Oh, right. Nice to meet you Engral." "Well, this way then." Rutger started for the door. Alex looked between the two. "Oh, uh?" He'd been about to offer some kind of reward as soon as he got back to his body, but then it occurred to him he'd already been rewarded. If that's what Engral's payment that had been. "Did you?did you pay Rutger?" "Yeah, steep, too. You better be worth it." Alex realized his eyes were glued to the back of Engral's arm, staring at the shapely muscle that appeared and disappeared as he walked. He felt warm suddenly, and his lips had suddenly become much wetter. What the hell was going on? Engral stepped aside and opened the door for Alex. He smiled and his eyes were filled with a warm appreciation and for the first time, Alex got to see a man discreetly evaluating his figure. It was odd, but much nicer than overt ogling. He turned and caught Engral's eyes, then smiled warmly with burning hot cheeks. He caught himself in mid-smile. Frowning, shaking his head, he realized he had to keep a much more careful watch over the bot's reactions. It hadn't been so bad in the desert; there had been less stimuli. It hadn't been too bad around Rutger either, but then Rutger's crudeness was a good counteragent. Engral, on the other hand, couldn't stop looking at him and was definitely seeking a response. Then Engral's answer finally sank in. Alex stopped and felt his head tilt slightly to the side, his eyes going slightly cross eyes, his lips puckering in a cute, surprised expression. Then he realized what he was doing. Had the bot's automatic behavior protocol gotten worse? Was it some kind of reaction to Engral? Was his dark hair, big hands, broad chest working their magic on the bot's reactions? Just when Alex had shut down one expression, the bot reverted to another. It was so habitual, it was hard to stop. Engral chuckled and smiled. "What's wrong?" Alex blinked rapidly. "Um, why did you pay Rutger?" He realized his speech pattern had changed as well. Not only did he have the voice of a child, but now he was starting to speak like one. Engral's large hands swallowed Alex's small shoulders. He whipped Alex around easily and gave him a friendly little shove into the back room. A giggle erupted from Alex before he could stop himself. "For you, of course," Engral admitted. Alex turned again and craned his head back, peering up over the broad chest and into his host's eyes. "For me?" "Of course," Engral smiled. "It was a steal, too. G-bots don't come cheap. Rutger didn't know what he had." Alex swallowed hard. He blinked some more. "Did you just say ? I mean ? You didn't?" Engral grinned at him, put his finger under Alex's chin and lifted his face, making him feel small and foolish. Alex was on guard: He caught the blush and warm smile and stopped his eyelids from closing halfway. Instead, he frowned and furrowed his brow, unaware of how cute it was. "Engral... did you just buy me?!?"