I snapped awake and found myself lying on something soft, in darkness, and it was only by the light from the street slanting across the ceiling that I realised I was back in the bed at Alexi’s house. I was under the sheet and had been undressed. My heart started racing when recent memories came and, knowing I wouldn’t be able to sleep, I sat up and swung my legs, which I found were responding quite well now, to the floor. As I placed my hands on my legs I found, to my amazement, that my left arm was working as if I had undergone an operation in my sleep and I could feel through it all the way along to the fingertips. I flexed the fingers and almost, in the dark silence, clapped my hands together for joy. My skin felt clammy. Maybe there was some way I could take a shower here before slipping out again. No way was I going to allow myself to become a prisoner here, no matter how many synths she put on my tail.

 

I went to the door which had been left ajar again. The living room lights were off, but moonlight slanted though the skylight. I could I hear soft breathing from the couch. In just my panties I tiptoed over and found Alexi beneath a rug, curled up and asleep looking, I had to admit to myself, very sweet. My eyes were adjusting to the dark and I could just make out items of discarded clothing on the floor. There were three doors opposite the bedroom and I quietly crossed the floor towards them, being careful not to trip on anything. Taking the utmost care to keep quiet I carefully opened the door on the right to find a small room stuffed with the detritus one would expect in the home of a techie such as spare monitors, keyboards and oodles of wires strewn everywhere.

 

Left on top of a box, seemingly at random, was something that caught my attention. I closed the door behind me, switched on the light and looked at the file more closely. On the cover was a cartoon illustration of a smiling sperm. A scrawled title above read ‘Sperm Race’. A minute’s leafing through its loose sheets left me in no doubt of Alexi’s imagination and apparently eccentric sense of humor. They were notes for a site that would allow people to experience, in virtual reality, what it might be like to be a sperm and race the other users on the site through a virtual womb to fertilize an egg. I shook my head, puzzled but amused.

 

The room to my left was much larger and there was another door leading off from this, opposite the one at which I stood, and left ajar. I looked around and everywhere were stiff, humanoid figures, like mannequins, some naked, some clothed and some in varying states of dismemberment, like fallen soldiers following a recent battle, or carcasses in a badly run abattoir. I picked up a leg and, despite the spikes of metal hanging from the top and wires dangling, it looked and felt remarkably lifelike. The room’s contents disturbed me and I soon left, shutting the door as quietly as I could.

 

I was pleased to find that the next room, also large, was the bathroom I had been hoping for. I shut the door softly, switched on the light and was glad that the shower was against the far wall. Hopefully the noise would not be heard in the living room, provided I was really quiet. I stopped at the mirror and was startled to see that, as the reflection in the window had suggested earlier, where once had been some lines, my skin had regained some of its youth. Maybe this was something all people who awake from comas experienced, or maybe my memories were just unclear. Also, my tits and ass were back to their original level. In spite of my discomfort at having lost my male body, the body in which I had truly felt comfortable, I felt a little cheered at the sight of myself.

 

Afterwards, feeling much refreshed, I tiptoed naked back through the living room, pausing briefly to check that she was still asleep. Her breathing sounded quite low and regular. In the bedroom a sudden urge came over me. My arousal from the experience in the club’s restroom had only been intensified by the panic I had felt at the river and had not subsided during my sleep. I sat on the bed and, almost without thinking, reached down between my legs beneath the bed for the box. I scrabbled about for a minute before my fingers found the dildo, still out of its box where Alexi had kicked it. I felt a momentary qualm that I was about to use someone else’s dildo, but it seemed clean. I got up again to close the door gently, then laid back on the bed, noticing briefly that the money she had given me earlier was on the table. Bless her, I thought.

 

I was already lubricating in anticipation. I hadn’t done this for real in five years after all. I shut my eyes and opened my legs wide, licked around the tip of the dildo to moisten it, then glided it down over my skin, across my tits, my belly and then my pussy hair, tickling myself and sending delightful little sparks of pleasure into my lips and clitty. I enjoyed its hardness against my swollen labia which parted and freed more lubricant from deep within me. I teased myself just a little while grinding my ass into the bed, then gripped the toy at the base and eased it inside me. It was so smooth and lovely and my walls gripped it so tightly. I pushed it in until I arched my back and bit my lip as its tip touched my cervix. With my finger on its base I circled it around the entrance to my pussy and caressed every millimetre of the skin around my hole. Then I pulled it out a little and began a shuttling movement, gentle at first, then more forceful. I pinched on my nipple, squeezed the whole breast, then pulled hard on it until I almost cried out. The dildo was really tight inside me but somehow not tight enough, so I brought my legs back together and even crossed them. I gripped the end of the tool really hard and began using it more violently. My body was being overloaded with pleasure and pain but it wasn’t enough. I had to lose myself, to obliterate myself.

 

I realised that the dildo was too thin and I quickly replaced it with my fingers, first two, three, then four. I made a ‘duck’ but I still needed more. I bent forward, pushed really hard and eventually achieved something I never had before. I had my small fist up there. I stifled a sob and gritted my teeth but when I pushed it in further the extraordinary feeling was irresistible. I couldn’t stop now. I was too close. I was really hurting myself and was sweating and weeping. I couldn’t push my fist very far in, certainly not to my g-spot, but just the sensation of being pushed open so wide was enough, finally. I screamed out in a mind-blanking fit of agony and ecstasy. I hardly heard the bedroom door open suddenly and close quietly, the blood in my ears was pounding and rushing like the sound of a river’s banks being flooded. My sodden hand slipped out and I fell back, exhausted. It was something I had never even attempted before, though I had sometimes thought about trying it. Maybe when I was younger I had just been too tight to manage it. I shook my head, amazed at myself for allowing my desire to drive me to such self-abuse. In the past a dildo or man had been enough.

 

However, something had felt wrong when I’d started to use Alexi’s toy. The absence of feeling in the phallus was troubling. It was a lifeless lump of silicone. It didn’t throb, it didn’t pulsate, it wasn’t hot or even warm, it didn’t respond to my touch. It wasn’t a penis, and that was what I really missed. I missed having a real, pulsating cock and balls hanging between my legs.

 

I wiped the tears from my eyes, sat up and wondered if an apology might be in order. Through the crack around the door I could see the light in the next room was on. I sighed and reached for my clothes but I couldn’t find the leathers and assumed Alexi had put them aside to be washed. I found my orange and black soccer kit and decided that and a pair of trainers would do as well as anything. The top had used to be a little tight across my tits, but I had evidently lost weight in the coma. I put these on, stuffed the money into the shorts and slouched to the door, ready to make my act of contrition. The soreness made my walk a little funny.

 

She wasn’t on the couch as I had expected, but I saw light from around the door to the bathroom. I couldn’t just walk out on her again, but I was glad I didn’t have to face her right now. I stepped lightly to the stairs, made my way down to the hall and, hopefully, the rest of the house as I wished to explore. Descending the stairs made me wince.

 

I froze as I saw, in the shadows by the door, someone standing as still as a statue, facing away from me. From the man’s right hand hung the gun and I stood on the bottom step for a full minute, watching him for any movement. I decided it must have been another synth, though it would have been indistinguishable from a human were it not for its unnatural stillness. It was uncommonly large, with a bodybuilder’s physique and strong jaw. Whether it was preventing me from leaving or preventing others from entering I could not tell, but all the while it followed me with its cold eyes, so I edged around the foot of the staircase, watching it all the time, until I reached a door.

 

It was the one Alexi had refused to let me open, so it was with a childish thrill that, when I tried it, I found it unlocked. I left the still motionless synth alone and entered what I immediately found to be a laboratory.

 

Or factory, perhaps. I switched on a light and gazed around me in fascination. From the ceiling hung long, industrial, robotic limbs, the kind one might expect to see in car factories. Everything was currently switched off and the limbs were frozen in various positions. Below them were working surfaces strewn with arcane equipment such as the optical device I had seen around Alexi's neck. There was no more order here than there had been with her cast off clothes upstairs and I shook my head and smiled. I couldn’t help but like her for her untidiness. More disturbing were the various humanoid body parts, more realistic than the ones upstairs, making the place resemble the scene of a massacre. There were sheets of a rubbery skin-like material, some whole and some sliced up, apparently with a scalpel I found on the floor. 3D touch screens filled most the walls except for one wall in the far corner where some pictures had been pinned to a board. There was another door to the right of the table which I found to be locked and next to it a wash basin, a coffee machine, a desk and a chair. These were the only concessions to comfort, the pictures the only concessions to decoration. This was the room of someone who came in here to work very hard and wanted minimal distractions.

 

I arrived at the board and was instantly struck by the first picture, one of a pink, heart-shaped building with what looked like a v-shaped door at the bottom and a brass knocker in the form of a naked boy. A heart-shaped building was certainly something to remark on, but I could only pull a face, admiring the design. However, memories were stirring within me again and in the distance, like a faint echo, I heard, “Can’t read my, no, he can’t read my agitata da due venti!” Scents aphrodisiacal and sounds maniacal swirled in the depths of my subconscious

 

The picture to the right of it was a portrait of the Virgin Mary, identical to the one in the church I had visited that day, except in two particulars. She was whole and she was entirely naked. She had long, nut-brown hair, eyes the color of honey, full breasts and more curves than a roller coaster. She looked as much like the traditional image of the Madonna as Madonna, yet I knew her as surely as I knew Alexi. She was my Mary, my beautiful companion through so many erotic escapades. The room lurched and I fell into the only chair in the room. The other pictures were also familiar, these of an old phone box, a city floating on a sea of jade gas, an octopus serving drinks behind a bar and a sexualised rabbit and cat. These were things I had seen, places I had been.

 

I pulled on some of the desk drawers and found they were locked, but on the desk was a folder. I picked it up weakly and saw something scrawled at the top left. It said ‘Beau’ and a date from around a month before the last thing I could remember. I opened it with trembling fingers and saw, in a beautiful full-length portrait, a reclining boy with a soft, round face and full lips drawn up into a heart-melting smile. Wearing nothing but a diamond choker and a broad-brimmed blue hat, he was utterly adorable. He lay on his side and with one foot drawn up until his instep rested across the his calf. The pose gave a feminine curve to his hip. His soft cock hung limply, like the drooping thumb of a plump, little girl. He was my Beau, whose user had created him, Mary, the Pink Cushion and everything in the bizarre pictures pinned to the board.

 

I turned the page to find more pictures of him, some of them clothed. In one he was wearing the Edwardian dress I had liked, with a straw boater, stripey stockings and old-fashioned buckle shoes. Later pages displayed diagrams of his various body parts, including a very graphic one of his genitals which I lingered over. This was streaked with water and I realised only then how much I had been crying. Oh, the feel of his skin against mine, the feel of him quaking beneath me while my cock entered him! I kissed and fondled the pictures, wanting them to come alive under the strokes of my fingertips. I looked at the cover again. “Beau,” I read aloud and traced my fingers across the handwritten, curly letters. Yes, that was the name I had screamed when the girl sank under the waves. It was the name I had written on birthday and Christmas cards, though not quite. Then it had been spelled ‘Bo’.

 

I made myself a coffee and gazed at the pictures for a long time until I started to realise how hungry I was. Light through the front door told me it was morning. Although in a daze, I found the kitchen and dining room to the rear of the house and ate some cereal alone, standing while looking through the kitchen door which appeared to open into the very humid-looking interior of a greenhouse. I heard Alexi padding down the stairs and, from the kitchen, I saw her, still in her PJs, cross the hall and enter the lab. A short while later the phone in the hall rang, the door to the laboratory reopened and Alexi, dashed across to take the call. There was a long silence until I saw her glance in my direction, then turn around and cup the phone around her mouth.

 

I could just hear her say to the caller, “What other work? I’ve been working flat out on your order. I’ve not had time for anything else.” After a sigh, she said, “No, it’s still not operational at the moment,” and she sounded very agitated. This was followed by a series of flat monosyllabic answers which betrayed increasing nervousness until she replaced the phone in its cradle and went back upstairs. The synth in the hall had not moved a wire and I only glanced at it once as I went back into the lab, intending to pour over the pictures of my Beau, just for a few more minutes.

 

I opened the door and there, standing just beside me, no more taller than me in his bare feet, was my beloved companion, the boy I had known as Beau. Apart from a little tasteful makeup and blue ribbons in his braided hair he was completely naked. He wore a fixed, glazed smile and, though I waved my hand before his eyes, he didn’t seem to even know I was there. In every detail he was just as I remembered.

 

“Beau?” I said, but he didn’t answer. The sight of him wasn’t enough, so I touched his chest. He was warm and seemed real, but he was completely still. “Oh, my Beau!” I cried and threw my arms around him. A shiver rippled through him and, taking a step back, I saw that his smooth chest was now rising and falling. “Beau, can you hear me?”

 

Now his eyes focussed on me, but there was no sigh of recognition. Was this my Beau? I bent forward with my hand on my knee and scrutinised his small, hairless and perfect genitals. I expressed my tongue a little, I couldn’t help myself, and touched it to the tip of his willy. Instantly it sprang to attention like an old-fashioned railway signal. He was solid and alive. I knelt and started sucking him, paused for a moment to suck my index finger provocatively, then reached behind him. While sucking him again I drew my wet fingertip down his ass crack and teased him a little before inserting it. I looked up at his face to see that cute smile of his, the tip of his tongue just caught between this teeth. The bobs of my head matched the strokes of my finger, increased in speed and, quite quickly, we were rewarded as a warm goo jetted into my mouth. It tasted far nicer than sperm; in fact, it was like the thickest, creamiest milk I had ever tasted. I swallowed it all, then gasped.

 

I stood and saw, instead of Beau, myself. My own face stared back at me and I jumped back in alarm. But I didn’t jump back, my image did, shock written across my face and cream across my chin. Behind this image was the door through which I had entered moments before. Then, I saw Beau again, smiling and unconcerned, with the interior of the lab behind him. The anomaly, whatever it was, had only lasted for a second, and I wondered if I was experiencing the effects of a certain kind of brain damage. I had never hallucinated in a such a way before, except when under the effects of some acid I had taken in my teens. I must have been still sleepy, so I shook and pinched myself in an attempt to banish drowsiness.

 

The boy before me really was as beautiful as I remembered. I walked around him, cupped his ass cheeks, admiring their firmness, and knelt down again to tongue the opening to his anus. I bent him forward a little, took his willy in my hand and wanked him from behind while sucking at his sphincter. It didn’t take long before I felt the pumping action in his prick and I span him around to plant the end of him into my mouth again. There was an amazingly productive factory of the stuff inside him considering the below average size of his balls. I stood again and took off my top to give him a good look at my tits. He didn’t need any prompting and reached up to fondle and squeeze them while his eyes still seemed to focus beyond me, as if I wasn’t really there. I wondered if he knew who I was.

 

“Don’t you remember me, Beau?” I wondered, feeling tearful. “It’s Irma. I mean, Ian.”

 

Did he know we had had sex many times before? Now I was going to fuck him with my real body. But his body, was it any more real than the one I’d known?

 

“Hello, Ian,” he said, and it was the same piping, northern accented voice I remembered, very much like Alexi’s, but something very important was missing. There was no mind within. He was an empty shell. Maybe he was in there, deep down, waiting to be drawn out.

 

I placed my arms on his shoulders and brought my lips to his while still enjoying what he was doing to my chest. His lips were like the softest pillows and I sucked and licked them until the lipstick was just a faint smear around his mouth. Then, stepping back a little, I dropped my shorts and panties and turned around. In just my socks and trainers I felt completely ready for him.

 

I spat into my palm, wetted my ass and pushed my buttocks into the underside of his willy. He held my hips while I raised myself on my toes, then lowered myself until my heels were on the floor again. Up and down I rubbed him with my ass, allowing him, slick with his cum and my saliva, to slide smoothly up and down between my cheeks. I still felt sore from fisting so I guided him slowly into my rear, relaxed after just couple of his thrusts and soon his small organ was thrusting in and out of me rapidly. I took his hand and brought it around to my pussy. He seemed to instinctively know what I wanted and began flicking my button until it was as hard as a frozen pea. We fit together so perfectly, as if we’d been made for each other. Was this the first time we had done this? I remembered the feel of silk cushions beneath us and the decadent enjoyment of fucking on a huge four poster bed while gazing at our reflections in the mirror above. This memory was soon forgotten as my orgasm hit. I leaned back against him, reached up to hold him close to me, while he continued to pleasure me, front and back, until my spasms had subsided.

 

I needed more but my legs were a little weak again, so I crawled onto one of the surfaces, which was completely clean, though littered with metal limbs. I pushed them aside and laid on my front while my darling Beau climbed on top of me and began poking me in my rump again. He was panting now and his breath tickled the back of my neck. He rested his chest on my back and licked my nape and ears. I arched my back against him and kissed him passionately while he pummelled away at my bottom until he ejaculated into me, filled me with more of his cream, then popped out with a series of squelching and popping sounds. There were squelching and sucking sounds when he popped out of me. I dipped my finger into my anus and then raised it, dripping, to my mouth. He tasted so sweet. He cuddled me, squeezed my tits again and grazed the tip of his lovely cock against my pussy.

 

“Would you like it in there too?” he asked. I looked at his face, wondered if my pussy wasn’t too sore to take him and then melted.

 

“Yes, my Beau,” I said and gasped as I felt him slowly ease it in.

 

He seemed to know I was in pain, perhaps by how tense I felt, and he took it really gently. We spooned while sharing a deep French kiss and were just beginning to find a comfortable rhythm when the lab door opened. Alexi entered, flushed crimson and quickly pulled something from a brown leather shoulder bag. I blacked out.

 

The next thing I knew I was still lying on the work surface while Beau was standing, allowing Alexi to first clean his face, then apply the makeup again. Her own appearance was greatly altered by red lipstick, a smart, white blouse, a brown skirt which she wore awkwardly and shiny black, flat heels. She also wore a look of annoyance but her manner was businesslike. Her navy hair, tied back, and the blue, green and red stains of her tattoos prevented from achieving total conformity.

I’d no idea how long I had been unconscious, but guessed that maybe only a few minutes had elapsed. I climbed down, picked my clothes up and tried to apologise.

 

“Alexi,” I began.

 

As I pulled my panties and shorts on she tied a blue ribbon around Beau’s neck then, kneeling, tied another around his cock. Beau smiled at me and seemed brazen and unconcerned.

 

“Alexi,” I said louder, trying to draw her attention.

 

There was a knock at the door and Alexi fumbled with the bow she was tying in the ribbon, making Beau yelp. Cursing, Alexi ran to the door.

 

“Is it ready?” I heard a man’s voice say.

 

“The one you ordered is, yes,” I heard Alexi reply awkwardly. “Just a moment.”

 

She returned and frowned at me. Then, looking incredibly tense, she took Beau’s hand and the shoulder bag from off the working surface and led him to the door.

 

“Bo,” I said simply and grabbed her arm while looking her in the eye. She paused and I could feel her whole body trembling. She shook her head, then left the room while I stopped behind the door and listened.

 

“He knows what you’ve done,” said the male voice.

 

“It still needs some adjustment,” said Alexi.

 

“He won’t wait forever.”

 

There was a pause before I heard the house door shut and Alexi ensuring each lock was secure. There came the muffled sound of footsteps on the pavement and a car door being opened, then shut. I pulled my top on quickly and, ignoring the guard, stepped lightly up to the window and peeped out in time to see the car roll quietly off. It was another night-black limo and on its registration plate I read ‘Tyranny 1’. And then I realised with horror that my worst nightmares had erupted into the real world.

 

“No,” I whispered, “not that part of my dream. Not that.”

 

Copyright © Irma Cerrutti 2015