6 comments/ 43085 views/ 24 favorites Perverted Science By: HiRez Perverted Science He thrust the bottle at Taj. "Pour us some bubbly, Taj," Jim said. "Where are the wine glasses?" "The kitchen cabinet, above the stove. I'm sure you can find it." When Taj left the room, Jim started jumping around the room. "Dude, let's pimp him!" "What? No way." Jim, for all of his vicious dislike of his father, had the same strain of cold-blooded capitalist tendencies that ran through all the men in his family. There was little doubt that he one day become a card carrying Log Cabin Republican. "Why the hell not?" Jim asked. "We've imbued him with human-like attributes. He passes the Turing test, okay? If we reduce him to chattel sex slavery we forfeit our own humanity, and pave the way for, I don't know, a bloody robot rebellion somewhere down the line, or something." "Well, that's a risk we have to take. How else am I going to recoup the cost of building him? Did you really think I invested a cool half-mill just so I could have someplace to stick it in? If that's all I wanted, I would have bought a fleshlight." It was hard to argue with Jim. Yes, Will had aided greatly in the process, but ultimately it had all been done on Jim's dime. They were co-creators, but not co-owners. "Do you really think he could pull it off? He's only been online a few minutes; maybe we should take him for a trial run? "Should I do the honors, or would you rather be the one to break him in?" "Be my guest," Will said, with a shrug. When Taj returned, he poured champagne for his creators. He waited patiently while they sipped. "Taj, I think I'm going to take you for a spin," Jim said. "What do you want to do first, Jim?" "'Master'. Call me 'Master'." "What do you want to do first, Master?" "Let's fuck." "Yes, Master." Will chuckled, in spite of himself. Neither Jim nor Taj paid him any attention as they raced up the basement stairs. Once inside his room, Jim shed his clothes in record time. He was soon, however, struck by pangs of inadequacy. Jim's body was pale, and slender, compared to his sex toy. He had some slight muscle definition in his chest, and abs, but he wasn't cut like the gym rats Taj had been modeled on. Again, however, he wasn't a dog, and although he occupied a place far from the top of the social pyramid, more than a few Jefferson Davis High girls had been disappointed to hear of his preferences. Jim knew those same girls wouldn't even notice him if they saw him standing next to Taj. The robo-stud moved forward to touch Jim, and his penis stiffened once more. Jim's cock was six and half inches hard, the base of which was ringed by a thick crown of black pubic hair that looked somehow gauche. Taj's own genitalia was as smooth, and hairless as the muscle gods Will and Jim admired in their porn collection. "You like that?" Taj asked. The big jock gripped Jim's pole with a meaty hand, and felt the dorsal vein throb against his palm with hot, quick blood. Jim heard a single, breathy moan escape from his lips. There was a wicked gleam in Taj's eye, he knew Jim was completely under his spell. "Suck my fucking dick, bro," Jim said. "Yes, Master." There was smirking insolence in Taj's tone that turned Jim on even more. The gorgeous alpha male lowered himself to his knees. The jock regarded the head of his master's penis with curiosity and amusement. He squeezed the shaft, making the fat, carnation colored glans bulge. Time to hone your oral skills, Jim thought, and a sliver of fear shone in his thoughts when he recalled the hardness of Taj's aluminum teeth. But his fear proved unfounded. Jim groaned, as Taj began to cover his dickhead with wet, sloppy kisses. The stud-bot flicked his eyes up at his master to register to his reaction, and was not disappointed. Jim was in ecstasy, his mouth an open, black oval. "Yeah, you like my dick, bitch? Choke on it." Taj attacked his teen creator's helpless nerve endings with his twisting tongue. To Jim it felt like his penis was riding through one of those winding, never-ending slides in a water park, his exposed flesh carried along, gaining momentum as he rocketed toward a big splash. Oh God, it was good! Jim's testicles drew up into his abdomen. Another second of this and he would burst. "Okay, enough!" Jim found those words harder to say than he had expected. He was right on the edge of orgasm, and for a terrible split-second, he was sure he had climaxed. But his erection did not begin to subside as his dick out of Taj's mouth with a wet popping sound, not unlike the uncorking of a wine bottle. Precum and saliva dribbled from the jock's plush, made-to-order dick sucking lips. "Get up, turn around, baby, and lay on the bed." Taj obeyed. The sight of his artificial man lying his wait made his heart stop for a moment. This is it, Jim thought. Jim squirted a glob of moisturizer on his erection, and worked his slick hands up and down the length of the shaft. He slid his throbbing dick between Taj's crack, moving it up and down, until the friction brought him back to the edge. Jim delicately squeezed his glans inside his man-droid. "Oooh, daddy, it hurts so good," Taj said. It was one of thousands of pre-programmed phrases Taj had been designed to say, but it sounded natural enough. It was all the encouragement Jim needed to thrust his dick all the way inside Taj's anus. "Unnnnnnghhhhhh!" "Your ass is so fucking tight, boy." This was better than his best fantasy. "Unghh!" Jim commenced to fuck the shit out of his jock lover. Underneath the hard, flat slapping sounds of flesh against flesh, and the moaning, was the monotonous melody from the mattress springs below: Squeak-squeak-squeak. "Oh yeah, yeah, get it, big daddy!" Taj said in his seductive baritone. For a moment, Jim could fully buy into the illusion, and Taj was no longer a thing, a construct they had labored over in his basement like the world's most elaborate science fair project. No longer able to hold back, Jim shuddered as electricity coursed through his body. His toes curled, his spinchter contracted, and every thought inside his head was suddenly wiped away, replaced by a sublime peace. Le petit morte. "FUCK YES!" He shot four loads into Taj, each ejaculation punctuated with a violent thrust of his pelvis against the jock's upraised ass. He jerked forward, carried away by a primal fervor that stole away his reason and higher thoughts, like a marionette on strings. Jim felt a wave of serenity overwhelm him, as the refractory period began. He turned Taj over to observe his cock. It was covered in sweetish smelling, white, viscous fluid. Success! "How many times did you come for me, baby?" Jim asked. "Seven." "Good boy." Jim reached down with his finger, and scooped a glob of semen from Taj's softening cock. He brought to his lips, and flicked his tongue out for a taste. Yum! Taj's come had a strong citrus flavor, although its main component was high-fructose corn syrup. Will knocked at the door, drawn by the sounds. "I guess Taj works," Will said, peeking inside. "Like a charm." Jim was lying in bed with Taj now, his arm around the big jock's shoulders. The room was suffused with the mingled scents of semen and sweat. Will smiled. Eight minutes, he thought, he exceeded my expectations by seven minutes and thirty seconds. They spent their remaining cash on giving Taj a final wardrobe polish at the local mall. Jim and Will enjoyed the stares, and the murmur of appreciative females as they dragged their gorgeous boy toy from store to store. They fitted him with a selection of polo shirts, sports coats, and khaki pants from Ralph Polo Lauren for business causal settings, Calvin Klein jeans were chosen for more informal occasions, and some loose fitting tees and shorts from Under Armour were to be used as workout attire. This last was their favorite stop, since it included the purchase of Under Armour jockstraps in various colors, which Jim and Will had decided would be the only thing Taj could wear under his clothes. He was now the perfect preppy jock rent-boy. They placed an ad on localboys.com, advertising the following rates: $350.00 USD for the first hour, $250.00 for each additional hour, and $2,000 for overnight sessions. The reviews on his page poured in fast, and were unanimous in their assessment: "He looks even better in person than in his picture, which I didn't think possible. I felt like I just got fucked by Michelangelo's David. Bellisimo!" "Taj is an amazingly gifted young man, with a body and horse cock to die for. I'm only in town for a few days on business, but I think I might just have to schedule a return trip in the near future!" And Jim's favorite, a simple two word review, read: "Fantasy fulfilled." Since hiding an android (especially a gainfully employed one) at home was not really an option for either Jim or Will, they were forced to be a little creative. The boys forged an identity for Taj, complete with a social security number, and secured an apartment for him with part of his earnings. "This will be the ultimate test, Taj. Let's see if you can carry on a semi-autonomous existence," Jim said. When Jim's parents were out of the house, Jim and Will played marathon Halo sessions, with Taj on hand to serve them Mountain Dew, pizza rolls, and blow jobs. He rushed in and out, in various Under Armour jockstraps. Will was not altogether comfortable with this set up. It was mainly Jim's inclination to use Taj as maid, waiter, and whore. Will thought, a mind is a terrible thing to waste, even if it's artificial. Finally, he could no longer resist. It was a gorgeous spring day. The Indian Hawthorn was in full bloom around his house, and up and down his street. Not so much as a single cloud loomed in the sky, to cast the specter of April showers. A perfect day for an outing. "Jim, is it okay if I take Taj out?" "You mean just the two of you? Sounds romantic," Jim said, with a slight purr as he rolled the 'r' in romantic. "Yeah, I guess that's kind of the idea." Jim looked up at Will, baffled. "It's just, well, I've always wondered what it would be like, walking out in public with a-a boyfriend." "That's pretty...brave of you," Jim said. Will always pretended to be interested in women whenever the subject came up in class, even though ninety percent of his classmates had already guessed at the truth And hell, it was a pretty wild thing to do in their little corner of the universe, given that Texas had been one of the first states to petition to secede when Obama was re-elected. The fact was their success in creating a piece of sophisticated A.I. had filled Will with a renewed vigor, and sense of possibility in the world around him. "Don't wait up for us, Jim," Will said, and left the room without another word. Typical Will, Jim thought, he'd go out with the Tin Man from Oz before me, as long as he had a nice set of abs. "What do you want me to wear, Will?" Taj asked. "Just wear whatever you think looks good," he replied. Taj decided on an American Eagle polo, khaki shorts, and sandals. He looked like the ultimate BMOC teen dream. Will drove them out to the beach, in his Mercedes Benz. He debated whether or not to go through with the outing for a bit, until Taj asked why they weren't getting out of the car. "It's complicated," Will replied. Here goes nothing. Will and Taj held hands as they walked out on the beach. There were no problems at first, much to his surprise. A few older women even smiled at them, while their husbands looked away in thinly veiled disgust. "How adorable," a fortyish soccer mom remarked as they passed, in a mellifluous down-home accent. If only Rick Hanover could see us now, Will thought. "Don't be nervous. We're doing okay," Taj said. And they were, at least until they started walking toward surf. "Faggots!" Will fought the urge to become paralyzed. That word was, and always would be a powerful trigger. A word he associated eating lunch alone in the boy's room, with scurrying through crowded halls, jumpy like a neurotic cat, with looking out classroom windows at wide, green lawns, and letting his thoughts drift from dull lectures and the deep, terrible knowledge that he was and always would be alone, and unloved. But Taj did not have any such associations, or fears. He turned around to face the cat-caller. "I'm sorry what was that?" "I think you heard me just fine, queer." The man giving them shit must have been about twenty-one or twenty-two. He was thin, and lanky, with the mean eyes of a rodent shining under the brim of his shit-kicker hat. There was a half-drunk bottle of Corona in his hand, and he looked like he was fighting to stay on his feet. He spat on the ground in front of him. "What's your fucking problem?" Taj said. Will was suddenly aware that a small crowd was gathering. The blonde housewife who had cooed with pleasure over their PDA a half hour before was now reaching for her cell phone, a worried expression on her face. "Taj-" "There's no reason for you to harass us. We were minding our own business. I suggest you do the same, unless you're looking to get your ass handed to you, motherfucker." The redneck kid looked at Taj a little incredulously. But a fissure had erupted in his hardass façade. He was at a loss for words. He staggered back a couple steps. "That gay dude is going to destroy him!" one of the on-lookers said, with a tone of mild disbelief. At that exact moment, two guys in shirts and sandals who must have been hat man's friend rushed up, and hooked their arms around his to steady him. The smaller of the two shot an apologetic glance at Will and Taj. "Sorry, man. He's been drinking. He's just joking around, honest." "Your friend's got a fucked up sense of humor, you know that?" "We're going away, okay? He just needs to sober up." Will and Taj heard hat man mutter, "fucking psychopath," under his breath, as his friends lead him away. They decide not make anything further of it. "I think I hear sirens." "Let's go," Will said. They started back toward Will's Benz. So much for their outing. Will wanted to tell Taj that what he had done was dangerous, that it was socially inappropriate, but all he managed was, "thanks." He had to admit, it kinda turned him on. "No problem, babe," Taj replied, "why was that dickhead even hassling us?" Will sighed. How to best to explain the intricate web of socio-political forces that had helped lead to his creation in the first place? "You'd never understand. You're made of the future." And Will, who had help stitch the beautiful man in front of him out of aluminum and silicone, could no longer help himself. He was head over heels. It got to be so Jim began to call Will less and less frequently. Will had found in his Taj golem the ultimate fulfillment of not only his every sexual fantasy, but every romantic one as well. Even Costa's class was bearable now that he had Taj to look forward to after class. Taj, Will thought, smiling, who was at once everything he wanted to be himself, and everything he wanted in a man, Taj who was the superior lover, and yet was unschooled in the endless varieties of fucking-who relied on Jim and Will to point the way in the bedroom. Oh yes, ladies and gentlemen, it was Taj who made navigating the choppy waters of adolescence, in the twilight of their high school careers, seem almost like cruising through a summer lake in a speedboat, for both Jim and Will It was Taj who was ever ready to service them with his enormous penis, Taj the chiseled jock stud who was both their student in the art of love and sexual plaything. It took Will's breath away to think of it. Greg Costa sensed a change in his pupils, one that sent ripples of uneasy through him, and tied his stomach in knots for no real reason that he could name. He couldn't stop himself from glancing at Jim and Will out of the corner of his eyes, as he announced the last major assignment for the semester. "This essay must be a minimum of five pages, singe spaced, and typed. I will not accept e-mail attachments, understand? It must be in MLA format, of course, and it must include a works cited page." "Yo, Mr. C, what should the essay be about?" Richie Jenkins asked. Richie Jenkins was the class mouth-breather, a hick who was inclined to call girls who complained about his lecherous stares "cunts", and drove a pick-up truck with a set of balls dangling from the back, just below a bumper sticker that read, "Beware: I'm white, and I vote." Costa liked him a lot. "You guys can write about anything you want, as long as it relates to a current issue in our society. Just try to avoid doing on a paper on why marijuana should be legalized. It's been done to death." Jim and Will conferred with each as the class wound down. "What are you going to write your paper on?" Will asked. "I don't know. You?" "The influence of gays on American culture," Will replied. Just at that moment, Costa's baleful eyes fixed on Will. The teen was very animated now, his face filling with earnest enthusiasm for the scholarly work ahead of him. "Hey, sweeties, this isn't social hour!" Costa said. It took a moment for Jim and Will to realize he had singled them out. The entire class was wrapped up in conversation, most of it related to their weekend plans. There was a look of surprise and hurt in Will's face as he looked to his teacher. Yes, Costa thought, now he's getting the picture. These little queers have been getting a little cocky-ha ha. When I was their age, a kid would have gotten their face rearranged if anyone even suspected them of queer. Hell, their parents would have disowned them. Someone's got to make these little asswipes understand their place in the Great Chain of Being. Someone like me. "Class, if you want to get ahead in life, don't be like these two lover boys. You have to actually pay attention to what's going on around you, instead of being wrapped up in your own little puppy love dream world." Everyone erupted into uncertain laughter, but thankfully the dismissal bell rung a few seconds later. Will and Jim took longer than necessary to stuff their textbooks into their backpacks, waiting for most of the class to clear out. They felt about a foot tall each. He shook his head in disgust as he watched them scurry out. Faggots. The day was over, and now he could focus on the evening that lay ahead of him. As luck would have it, his wife was out of town, which is just about the nicest thing that bitch ever did for him anymore. It's no secret that most men marry women who subconsciously remind them of their mother, and Costa was no different. He had gotten himself hitched at nineteen when he thought he had knocked her up, but lo and behold, seven months into her pregnancy, Marjorie Hoover Costa miscarried. That did not, however, curb her weight gain, which steadily increased with each passing year; by the time 2012 rolled around, she nicely approximated his mother's size (three hundred pounds at the time of her death, which came courtesy of a coronary her friends and family described as coming "out of the blue"). She had a temper to match her girth, this lady, and when he heard that Marjorie's Great Aunt Edna had slipped getting out of the tub, and shattered her hip, he just about dropped to his knees in rapturous relief. Great Aunt Edna lived two counties away, and that meant an overnight stay. Perverted Science Time to party. As much he hated faggots, he had to admit, he had a bit of an appetite for the cock himself. That didn't make him queer, of course, no sir, he had the decency to keep his desires under wraps. To Costa, fucking and sucking a dude was a vice like doing coke, or gambling. It was one of the reasons he was so deeply offended by boys like Jim and Will. Guys like that didn't understand they were broken, that they needed a shrink to help them keep their tendencies under control, instead of trying to pass themselves off as normal. It was why Costa took care of his needs on the sly, with the help of rent boys. Night time at last. Greg Costa drove to The Green Gables apartment complex in the Southwest part of town, and knocked on the door of unit 219. Taj opened the door, clad in a maroon lycra wrestling singlet, just like Costa had specified. The older man's eye traced the contours of his trick, admiring the smooth, milky shoulders, the broad chest, the sharply defined abs, and equine bulge between his legs. "Come in," Taj said. Greg followed him inside. An old beat-up wrestling mat was laid out on the floor, between the couch and the windows. The TV was on, turned to a sitcom. "We can do without the canned laughter," Greg said. Taj turned the TV off. They stared at each other in the room. Costa had fantasized about this a million times. As a high school wrestling coach, he was constantly surrounded by young tight, and toned male flesh, but there was nothing he could do about it. It was maddening. He reached forward, and brushed the teen's cheek with the back of his hand. The young jock's knees wobbled a little. So innocent. So ripe. It was almost too good to be true. "How old are you, baby?" "Old enough." Costa was silent for a few moments. He had no intention of adding statutory rape to adultery, and solicitation. "No, really. Got any ID?" Taj's brow furrowed. "Are you a cop?" "No. I just need to be sure." "I'm afraid that's not how it works in this business, honey. You'll just have to trust me." Costa's cock twitched. The teen's false bravado, borrowed from some old movie, no doubt, excited the older man. . He stripped naked, and for a moment, Taj felt a twinge of jealousy. Costa got up every day at five a.m. to run a mile, and it showed. His body was thick, and corded with muscle. There was a thin carpet of hair that swelled across his pecs, tapering away to a narrow trail extending down the length of his torso to the base of his cock, where it widened into a riotous crop once more. He looked fierce, standing with his arms akimbo, like Leonidas about to declare war on the Persians. "You ever wrestle, baby?" "Yeah, a little, in high school." "Let's see how good you are," Costa said. Costa and Taj circled each other, like wary prizefighters in the ring, until without warning, the older man dove at the teen's ankles. Taj's vision flew, and didn't steady until the gym mat came up and slammed into his back hard. "You like that? Huh? You like it? You little Puto." Puto was a Spanish word, meaning male prostitute or faggot. Costa had picked up a few words here and there from some of his students, and he'd always liked this one in particular. This, of course, was due entirely to how crass, and vulgar it sounded. Taj nodded. Costa took a pair of scissors out of the pocket of his discarded jeans, and sliced through Taj's singlet, and revealing his sizable cock and balls. He couldn't believe it. It was almost like a caricature of puberty. He scooped Taj's enormous goose egg testicles into his hand, and jiggled them like pocket candy. "Mmmm...nice huevos." Costa took the teen's big, sweaty nuts in his mouth, savoring their buoyancy, their salty taste, and the slick elasticity of his teenaged scrotum. Inside this stud's balls are the essence of masculinity, he thought. For a second he remembered a gruesome bit of history he had taught in one of his classes. It was just a colorful footnote really, the story of Countess Elizabeth Bathory, the infamous sixteenth century noblewoman who had tortured and bathed in the blood of hundreds of servant girls. Supposedly, it had all been done in the belief that it would keep her young. I wonder if bathing in semen of this bull stud will increase my fucking virility. He let his hands roam free across the mountainous terrain of the jock's tight abs, and bulging pecs, before descending down into the hairy crevasses of his armpits. Taj moaned. Precum oozed from his dickhead, but it was purely an automated response to the barrage of stimulation his electric nerve endings were enduring. Truth be told, Costa's rapacious hunger made Taj a little uneasy. He had never seen such brute, animal force in another man. "Love your huevos, baby." Encouraged by the effect his mouth was having on the teen's dick, his fingers found themselves sliding down between his ass cheeks toward his hole. "You want it?" "Yeah," Taj said, in a barely audible whisper. "You want me inside you?" "Yeah." "Spread those cheeks for me." Taj slid his legs farther apart on the mat. Costa ran his hand up and down the intergluteal cleft, loving the way the teen's ass hairs tickled his palm, his fingers finding and first massaging, then probing Taj's hole. The teen moaned as the older man slid a single finger inside, and was surprised by a sudden chill he quickly realized was Costa's class ring. "Yeah, you want it bad," Costa said, with a chuckle. Greg's mind turned to the Trojan in the pocket of his jeans, but he decided against it. Fuck that, there was no point in nailing a hot piece of ass if he couldn't feel it. "Turn around, show me that beautiful boy-pussy." Taj flipped over onto his toned stomach. Costa lubed up his throbbing seven incher with a glob of KY jelly. He was grinning ear to ear, as he slid his cockhead into the teen's gorgeous, muscled ass... The jock groaned. "You feel me inside you, stud?" Taj nodded. Costa began to fuck the teen's ass raw, riding him like a bucking bronco, until he arrived at a sudden violent, wracking orgasm. "Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! Oh Go-" He shoved his still ejaculating penis into the teen's mouth, causing Taj's eyes to bulge in a near comical expression of surprise. One, two, three times he shot his load down the startled teen's throat. "Swallow that shit, bitch." Taj's Adam's apple bobbed as he reluctantly swallowed the older man's warm, salty spunk. "Oh God, that was good," Costa said. The sight of the sweaty, naked adonis lying on the gym mat, with his semen dripping from the corner of his mouth would be etched forever into Costa's brain. Something was missing, however... Costa smiled, he suddenly knew how he wanted to conclude this little rendezvous. "Your cum tastes incredible," Taj said. It was one of his standard lines. He closed his mouth just in time to avoid having it flooded with urine. Costa grinned as he pissed all over the young jock. Taj squeezed his eyes shut as the warm fluid splashed across his handsome face... A little piss gathered in his navel, making a tiny reflecting pool. The jockbot shivered. "I'll be seeing you, baby," Costa said, as he left his money on the table. For the first time since he came online, Taj felt something like revulsion and shame. There was no way he'd ever take this guy's money again. When Will learned about this encounter of course, he felt a certain cold rage welling up inside him. The thought of his gallant knight defiled that way unnerved him. Jim seemed mildly amused by the whole thing. He leaned his head back against his chair, and rubbed his chin. "What did he look like?" Jim asked. Taj described him. Jim felt the corners of his mouth turning upward in a tiny smile. "Let's go to video. If he's who I think he is, we're in for a good chuckle." Will hooked Taj's hard drive to his laptop via a bypass patch cord, and downloaded the footage. Taj recorded each and every one of his interactions with human beings. It helped him to learn better. The video confirmed Jim and Will's suspicions. Jim broke into fits of hysterical laughter. Will merely cringed at the part where Costa gave Taj a golden shower. "You guys know this dude?" Jim's face was red, and he was out of breath from laughing. He wiped a tear away from his eye. "Sadly, we're very well acquainted. He's our social studies teacher, Mr. Costa." "You're kidding? This guy?" "It's true," Will said, with a weary sigh. "I guess that explains the state of public education," Taj said, dryly. "I've always taken him for a fag-basher. He's always looking at me and Jim like we're AIDS riddled junkie S&M whores, and just look at him! He's a bigger pervert than either of us." "What should we do with this?" Will asked. "Do?" "Yeah, I mean, this guy's had our backs against the wall all semester. Maybe it's time for a little payback." Jim studied his friend's face to see if he was serious. "That's a no-go, good buddy. Taj is our meal ticket. His clients' anonymity can't be compromised, even if the client in question is a blustery, hypocritical son of a bitch who totally has it coming. We'd have to repurpose Taj into cubicle drone, or civil servant." Or sell him for scrap, Jim thought, although he didn't think it would ever come to that. April turned to May, and the days began to grow longer and longer. The graduating class of Jefferson Davis High was struck by an outbreak of senioritis, and many of Jim and Will's classmates began showing up late, if at all. Graduation parties began occurring with increasing regularity each weekend as the final countdown commenced. It was during this strange, exciting, and bittersweet time this time that things really seemed to turn around for Jim. He had decided he was going to forge ahead and form his own robotics company, Massive Dynamic. Even better, he had been asked to the Prom by a boy named Emile Hamill. Emile was a pleasant, clean-cut kid from a well-to-do family in the ritzy River Oaks side of town. Nothing special really, but it was better than having no date. Will learned of this during lunch. They sat alone in their own corner of a long cafeteria table now. They no longer bothered to eat in the gym. He was shocked by the sudden pangs of jealousy he felt. "That's great, man, just great," Will said, as evenly as he could manage. Jim cocked his head at an angle, and stared at Will, confused. Will panicked, am I so transparent? "What?" "Are you okay?" "Of course, why wouldn't I be?" "I don't know. We don't really hang out as much as we used to. Not that you seem to mind all that much. I guess I don't have to ask who you're taking to Prom." "Please stop." "Stop what?" "You know what I'm talking about." "Oh, for God's-" "I just don't understand why you always have to be so down on Taj." "Can we just call him what he is? Please? He's a jock-bot. He's a vibrator with legs, he's a talking blow up doll." "He's an incredible breakthrough in the field of A.I.! They'll be writing about us for years. You should be proud." "I am proud. That's not the problem." "Oh yeah, then what is? "The problem is you're in love with a fucking toaster oven, my friend." Will got up and left without another word. He thrust his hands into pockets, and pulled his hoodie over his head, which was his way of telling the world to fuck off. It pained Jim to see his friend this way, but it wasn't something he could dwell on. He had other concerns at hand. He had managed to set up a meeting with the neat, fastidiously well-dressed, fifty-one year old C.E.O. of a venture capital firm to discuss financing Massive Dynamic. His name was Peter Driscoll. Jim knew him only because he was one of his classmate's dads. He'd visited Jefferson Davis High the year before, and given a speech, in which he had stated, "find something-anything-you can invest your heart and soul in, and milk it for every last penny you can. Once you've finished that, don't be afraid to go after more. One's reach should exceed one's grasp, or what's a Heaven for?" It was frank, it was dryly funny, it drew wild applause from the students and faculty, it was, in the end, a tired retread of an infamous commencement speech arbitrageur and soon-to-be convict Ivan Boesky had given at the University of California, Berkley, back in 1986. Even though such sentiments were gruesome and insensitive in a time when the entire country felt hunger pangs unlike anything since the Great Depression, they predictably went over well in a school named after a Civil War hero who fought on the wrong side of that particular internecine skirmish. He wore his father's Armani suit to meeting, which was held in Driscoll's luxurious office. "Who's your friend here?" Driscoll asked. "Sir, you're looking at the future of the sex industry. No more pesky VD to worry about, or for that matter legal penalties, or moral condemnation, because how it can be wrong to pay for sex with something that's not even human?" Driscoll's eyes widened in surprise. "My friend Taj here is a fully automated, autonomous artificial sex worker. He really likes his work, I might add. Isn't that right, Taj?" Taj smiled, blankly. He seemed not to have understood the question. "I said, "isn't that right, Taj"?" Taj blinked. "Hello, Mr. Driscoll," Taj said. Jesus, what a time for Taj to pick to malfunction, Jim thought. "This is what you think the wave of the future is? Robotic blow up dolls?" "Now, wait, Mr. Driscoll-" "Look, kid, you did a great job making it look real, I'll give you that. Honest to God, it looks perfectly human, hats off to you, my man." Jim felt his shirt sticking to his back. He mopped his brow with the back of his hand. This was not going at all the way he envisioned. "But," the man went on, "I don't need a feasibility study to know nobody's going to plunk down thousands of dollars for a...a whore-bot. A market for such a decadent luxury does not exist in the New Economy." "There's still a market for Ferraris, and expensive watches isn't there?" "You think anyone who owns a Ferrari has to buy a robot to get laid, kid?" Driscoll chuckled. It was his way of announcing the meeting was over. "See ya later, Taj," Driscoll said, with a patronizing smile. "Hello, Mr. Driscoll," Taj repeated, as if he had just noticed Driscoll for the first time. The ride back to Jim's house was long, and unpleasant as traffic crawled along Interstate Ten. It was bumper-to-bumper and liable to stay that way for a good half-hour, as scores of working moms and dads returned to their suburban enclaves. Jim glared at Taj, who simply sat silent, staring straight ahead, his eyes as blank as a ventriloquist's dummy. "You fucked me over on purpose, didn't you?" Taj said nothing. "I know you can hear me. And I know you understand what I'm saying." Taj sighed. He had never really warmed to Jim the way he had to Will, but he couldn't bring himself to be cross with him. After all, he owed his life in large part to Jim. "What do you want me to say?" "Nothing. I don't even give a shit about recouping the cost of building you. You can go." "Where?" "To hell for all I care. Take Will with you." Taj related this last exchange verbatim to Will. "So that's it, huh? I guess there's no place for us in the glorious future that awaits Jim Goldberg, gay Master of the Universe." "I wouldn't go that far..." Taj replied. They were sitting on the couch in Taj's apartment. It had become their regular afternoon thing to make love for a few hours, then lounge around, and watch TV. Will looked into the eyes of his creation, and felt his head swim. He was by now enamored not just of Taj's pretty face, but his electric soul. "I don't need anyone but you, baby," Will said. "That...sweet, Will," "I'm sorry about all those things we made you do. It was really Jim's idea. I would never have degraded you in all those ways..." Taj rolled his eyes. "Here we go, again. It's not an issue for me, babe. You know that." "Why?" "Because I can just delete those memories whenever I want, Dummy." "Yeah, I guess there's that." "Not that I'll be servicing your social studies teacher again. I'm keeping him banned out of sheer principle." "So what do you want to do tonight?" "I can't go out tonight. I'm meeting a girl." For a second, Will thought he had misheard Taj. "You're what?" Taj couldn't meet Will's gaze. But there was no going back now. "I'm meeting a girl for dinner tonight." Will's cheeks burned hot. This was madness, he knew. Had he really grown attached to the jockbot, to the extent that he envisioned some of kind of future for them? He tried to imagine what their kids would look like, and could only envision half-human, half-machine tots who resembled the Borg. Still, there was no denying the weird feeling of betrayal that swept through him. "How could you do that to me?" "Because that's what you wanted you deluded, self-loathing shit," Taj said. "That makes no sense to me." Will said. "It doesn't? You programmed me. I'm your ideal man. A straight stud who puts out for you." This gave Will pause. "Now, listen, Jim treats me like an object because I am one. Just because I don't particularly like the guy, doesn't mean he's wrong. I've accepted my condition, why can't you accept yours?" "I have a rudimentary understanding of pleasure as you understand it, and a few basic human emotions. But I can't return your love. All I am, all I can offer is a facsimile." "Okay," Will said. "Besides, you're not really mad at me. Any fool can see that." "So who am I mad at?" "Jim!" Will stood up, and began pacing around the room. "Well, why the hell shouldn't I be? I just don't understand how he could do it." "Do what?" "We've been friends for years, and now all of sudden, I'm not good enough for him. He's taking some kid from River Oaks to the Prom." "You need to go to Jim. You need to let him know how much you really care for him..." "It's too late." "If you don't do it now, you're going to spend the rest of your life wondering 'what if.'" Taj was right. "You know you've really come a long way." "I owe it all to your craftsmanship....and, I guess Jim's too." "Can I use your room for a little bit?" "Yeah, sure." Will went into Taj's room, and sat in silence for a while. What if he doesn't answer? It seemed incredible but for the first time in the history of their friendship, Will Durante was not sure that Jim Goldberg would take his call. A full five minutes passed before he could summon the courage to dial Jim's number. "Jim?" "Yeah?" "Ah...hey." "Hey." "Just wanted to see how you were doing, man." "Well, all things considered..." "Yeah?" "Not that great, but I guess you know that." There was a crunching sound. Will was sure that Jim was eating Lucky Charms. Whenever things went south for him, he liked to drown his sorrows in a bowl of kiddie cereal, and watch re-runs of Charmed. "It wasn't my idea for Taj to blow your meeting with this Driscoll guy." "No. It would appear he thought of that all by himself. Kids, these days." Crunch. "So how are things going with you, Will?" Crunch-crunch. Will considered a lie. He didn't want to come off as whiny when his intent was conciliatory.