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Am I Not Yours? Asked The Sex Bot
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2024-11-23 23:53:11The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of something neither obvious nor identifiable.
In the clueless third party's eyes, there's a strange circular thingy protruding from the wall, like a sleek and metallic disk. And on the floor beneath there lay an equally strange platform. They hummed together, faintly synchronized. Though to the untrained eyes of Emerson's mother, they appeared decorative, almost artistic. Her focus shifted to the figure standing between the two disks: a man—no, a gay-man. That was her conclusion. Why? His features were flawless, almost annoyingly so. The light caught the smoothness of his skin, and though he was completely male, there were some things about his body that felt... beautifully feminine. And Emerson, her son, was standing too close to him. Good heavens! “What is this?” she said sharply, her voice breaking the silence. Emerson turned, startled by her presence. He hadn't expected her to be here. She was supposed to be away with her husband and dear children. But nowhere near this space—this sanctuary where his secrets lived. “Mother,” he started, but she raised her hand and stopped him. “Who is he?” she demanded, pointing to Porsche. Meanwhile, Porsche remained utterly still. His gaze was fixed on Emerson. He didn’t even acknowledge the woman's presence. She's your mother-in-law, bow to her. Hehe. Emerson stepped forward instinctively, placing himself partially between her and Porsche. “It’s... complicated,” he said, his voice tight. “Complicated?” she snapped. Her eyes narrowed, taking in the scene with a mixture of confusion and dawning horror. “What is going on here actually? Who is this man? And why—” Her voice faltered. “Why is he standing there like that?” Emerson swallowed, his mind racing. He hadn’t prepared for this. Shit! Chaos meets sex bot. Porsche tilted his head slightly. It was a gesture he calculated, not natural. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it didn’t escape her notice. In her eyes, it seemed like he had a sore in his neck or something “He’s—” Emerson started, then stopped. What was he to say now? She waited, her gaze unrelenting. “He’s what? Who is he? And why does he look at you like... like that?” Her words dripped with suspicion. She was definitely driving her way to ‘drawing conclusions.’ “He’s... not what you think,” Emerson said carefully. Her eyes darted back to Porsche. Her brows furrowed. “What am I supposed to think, Emerson? That you’ve brought some strange feminine looking man into your house? And he's.. he's looking at you like he'd… he'd chew you up any moment from now? That.. this is normal?” Her tone sharpened. “Is he your... your boyfriend?” The word hung in the air like an accusation. It was heavy. It was fucking unwelcome. “No!” Emerson said, too quickly, too forcefully. Her lips thinned into a hard line. “Then what is he?” The gay-man, in her view, finally spoke with an unbelievably smooth and precise voice. Though without hesitation or emotion. “I am Porsche.” Her eyes widened. “Porsche?” She looked at Emerson for an explanation. “Who calls themselves that? Is that even supposed to be an intro or something?” Emerson exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not what it looks like, Mama.” “Then explain it to me!” she snapped, her patience wearing thin. “Explain why this... this man is here! Explain why he’s standing there like some... some...” She faltered, at a loss for words. Emerson swallowed hard. “He’s... a friend,” he said. Hell, his heart was pounding furiously. Her eyes narrowed as they roamed Porsche’s form, noting his sculpted perfection. His demeanor was too calm, his posture too flawless. Yet there was nothing outwardly strange—just an unnervingly beautiful young man. Porsche stepped forward, his movements smooth and deliberate. He locked eyes with Emerson. “You are my boyfriend,” he stated as though it were an irrefutable fact. Emerson’s breath hitched. His mother’s eyes widened. Both gasped. Loudly. “Excuse me?” she said, her voice sharp. “It’s not what you think!” Emerson said, his tone panicked. Porsche didn’t falter. “You are my boyfriend. Emerson, I was created to be yours.” His mother gasped. “Created?” “No!” Emerson interjected, his voice louder than intended. He turned to Porsche, his teeth clenched. “Stop talking.” But Porsche didn’t stop. “You deny it?” he asked, tilting his head. “Are you not my boyfriend, Emerson?” Emerson clenched his fists. His frustration was spilling yet, he was fucking turned on at this moment. Was this humanoid flirting with him? Fuck! The way it called his name… so… so fucking hot and manly. Shit! ‘Control. Control yourself, Emerson.’ “No! You’re not!” Porsche paused. His expression briefly flickered to something that almost resembled hurt or did Emerson not see it well. Then he nodded, stepping back into a neutral stance. “Understood.” The tension thickened as Emerson’s mother turned to him, her face pale with confusion. “Emerson, what is going on? Who is he?” “He’s... an actor,” Emerson stammered. “He’s practicing for a role. That’s all.” Her brow furrowed. “Practicing? Here? And what does he mean, ‘created’?” “It’s part of the act,” Emerson said quickly, waving it off. “He’s method—always in character. It’s... annoying, but that’s just how he is.” She didn’t look convinced. Her gaze flicked back to Porsche. His neutral expression betrayed nothing, but his stillness seemed unnatural. “I don’t know what kind of weird project you’re involved in, Emerson,” she said finally, her tone heavy with suspicion. “But I don’t like it.” With that, she turned on her heel, marching out of the room without another word. The moment the door clicked shut, Emerson exhaled sharply, his composure cracking. “What the hell was that?” he hissed at Porsche. Porsche’s head tilted again. “I stated the truth. You are my boyfriend, as per my programming.” Emerson groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Stop saying that! You’re not my boyfriend. You’re... you’re...” “Am I not yours?” Porsche asked again, his tone softer this time, almost questioning. “Shit! Stop!” Emerson snapped, though his voice wavered. “You’re not.” Porsche straightened. “Understood. I will adjust my behavior accordingly.” Emerson sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. This was going to be more complicated than he thought.Related chapters
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Emerson studied every detail he could find on the glacier tabloid. His eyes flicked between the glowing instructions and the two circular modules resting on the floor. The words on the screen were clinical, devoid of emotion, yet the implication was monumental. All machine-like talks and strictly artificial intelligence.“Place the second module on the ground,” Emerson instructed.Raven arched his brow. “And this is supposed to do what? Summon aliens?”“Just do it,” Emerson snapped, his fingers twitching as he gripped the tablet tighter.Raven sighed, crouching to position the second module beside the first one. As it clicked into place, both disks emitted a faint, pulsing light. Emerson’s breath hitched. Whatever they were seeing and doing was hard on technology.“That’s... not normal,” Raven muttered, stepping back.Emerson ignored him, focused on the next step. “We need to place Porsche in the center of the modules.”“Porsche?”Emerson rolled his eyes. “Yes. Named him after my fa
