I, Blowbot

It was a day like any other in the sleepy little college town of Valley Bridge. A gentle breeze rustled through the pine trees and, while it wasn't quite warm yet, the morning sun promised a beautiful afternoon.

Lauren stirred in her bed. A freshman at Valley Bridge State, she was still in her first month away from home, and her dorm room showed it. Clothes were strewn about and empty beer cans adorned the windowsill and bookshelf, some with cigarettes crushed out in them, a reminder of last night's revelry. As Lauren sat up in bed, the sun bathed her white cotton tank top in a hazy glow, revealing the perfect, braless breasts beneath. She did a quick stretch, thrusting her impressive chest forward, and sprang out of bed towards the shower.

Lauren was eighteen years old and a total knockout. She stood just five feet tall, with light brown, shoulder length hair that she wore in pigtails. Everything about her was exquisitely feminine. She had striking hazel eyes, a delicate little upturned nose, immaculate skin, kissable ruby lips, slender thighs and a tight flat stomach. But Lauren's best feature was her superbly shaped ass. Lauren had wide hips for a woman so petite and the way her rear end filled out the back pockets of jeans drew stares wherever she went. Her ass always protruded invitingly, tight but bubbly and begging to be grabbed.

It was a Saturday morning, so Lauren didn't have anything to do except drink and party all over again. Maybe later she would hit the gym to work on her glutes. But first she needed breakfast. Lauren wasn't one of those girls who eats a banana for breakfast and then a salad for lunch. She had an appetite. And why not? She maintained a flawless figure and if she did carry an extra pound or two, it was only in her tits and ass. Besides, she was starving. She had been too busy dancing and drinking with her hallmates the night before to get dinner. After her shower, Lauren pulled her hair back in pigtails and hastily threw on an outfit — a pair of crushed velvet joggers, with a cute cinched waist and a ribbon belt, and a baby blue Valley Bridge State sweatshirt that was a little too short. There was just enough of the soft fabric to cover that healthy young rack, leaving a glimpse of her toned midriff exposed as she made her way towards the small dining hall on the south side of campus.

As she slid into the breakfast line, though, Lauren found herself losing her appetite. There was Paul, her roommate Jill's weird boyfriend, saving a place for her. Lauren found Paul unsettling and aloof. She didn't know Paul very well — or Jill, for that matter — because they spent almost all their time together in his suite. Paul was a junior and lived by himself in an upperclass residence. But on the rare occasions when Lauren had hung around with her roommate and Paul, Jill seemed a little off in his presence. She became fixated on Paul and would attend to his every need. She even took off his shoes for him when he entered the dorm. For his part, Paul never seemed to ask for that treatment. He acted oblivious to it and seldom even acknowledged Jill. Paul was a psychology major, as he was quick to let you know, and he always had his nose in a book. It wasn't a textbook. He had explained that he was studying it for his honors thesis on subliminal suggestion in advertising. The title was a mouthful: The Adept's Guide to Mesmery and Thralldom.

Sure enough, even in the breakfast line Paul had the book tucked under one arm, while he waved to Lauren with the other. Lauren said a casual hello as Paul ushered her ahead of him in the line. She could feel his hungry eyes boring into her plump posterior, but tried to ignore it. Lauren had a boyfriend back home and the last thing she needed was some creepy college dude ogling her. She decided that engaging Paul in some light conversation might get his eyes off her ass, so she asked the first thing that came to mind.

"So how's your thesis going, Paul?" She instantly regretted raising the topic. Why couldn't she have asked about anything other than that?

"Not so well, actually," Paul complained, his now eyes glued to the big tits poking out from Lauren's sweatshirt as they shuffled towards the omelette station. "I'm trying to prove that subliminal suggestion is an effective advertising tool, but so far my test subjects..."

"...aren't falling for it?" Lauren volunteered, finishing Paul's sentence for him. "I'm not surprised. I think nowadays people are more sophisticated and able to see through that old fashioned marketing pablum. We don't have to listen to what 'they' say. I never buy things just because an ad told me to." Lauren felt a twinge of satisfaction in taking Paul down a peg, which made his response all the more surprising.

"Actually, I have the opposite problem," he said calmly. "All of my test subjects have confirmed the power of subliminal suggestion. My technique is too effective. With a failure rate of zero, I can't form a proper control group to normalize the data."

Lauren only understood about half of Paul's jargon, but she suspected he was full of shit. She didn't have long to think about it, though, because Paul immediately followed up with an interesting question. "How would you like to make $100?"

Lauren hadn't even sat down with her breakfast and this weirdo — a cute weirdo, she had decided — was offering her $100? That might not seem like a lot of money to most people, but to a college freshman who had spent all of her meager summer earnings on a fake ID and cover charges at the clubs, $100 was a lot of beer money. Enough to make Lauren suspicious.

But in the next instant she found herself considering the offer. "By doing what?" she asked, as she took a seat at a secluded table in the corner and sank a fork into her eggs.

Paul saddled up across from Lauren and said matter-of-factly, "Be a test subject in my study. You'll be perfect. Ads don't work on you — you said it yourself. And it pays $100, to ensure that all participation is voluntary."

"But what do your test subjects have to do?" There was still a trace of skepticism in her tone, but Lauren was genuinely curious. She could do a lot with $100.

"It's simple. We go to the mall and walk around for half an hour, just window shopping. I will ask you a few questions about your tastes and preferences. After thirty minutes of poking around the mall, you get $100. You can spend it or not. The money is yours. Anything you may choose to buy will also be yours to keep. Whatever you decide to do will become an anonymous data module in my study. And if you're right that ads don't work on you, then I will finally have a proper data set to analyze and complete my thesis."

"So all I have to do is go the mall for half an hour and I can keep the $100? I already know I'm not going to spend it. You can't buy Bud Light at the mall," Lauren responded half-jokingly.

"That's it," Paul confirmed, beginning to sound indifferent.

It sounded too good to be true, but Lauren felt compelled to back up her boastfulness about being impervious to the influence of advertising. And she could really use that $100. She could buy a bus ticket to visit her boyfriend and still have enough left over for a few cases of brew. She resolved to go for it.

"Sounds like easy money. When do you want to get started?" Lauren asked, her enthusiasm building.

"The mall is open," Paul said blandly. "I can drive."

Paul hadn't touched his omelette and didn't wait for Lauren to finish eating. He just tucked his book under his arm and headed off briskly towards his car. Lauren practically had to break into a jog to keep up. It would be worth it, she told herself, when she was $100 richer. Only upperclassmen could park cars on campus, so the free ride itself was a nice little perk. Paul clicked a remote to unlock the doors of his cherry red Tesla. In her eagerness to check out the interior, Lauren opened the driver's side door, an awkward miscue she tried to smooth over by holding it open for Paul. She needn't have bothered. Paul stepped right past her and sat behind the wheel without a word or even glance. He's hot, but he's still weird, Lauren reminded herself as she got in on the other side.

With the windows down, and the wind blowing her pigtails straight back, Lauren was having a good time. She finally started to feel at ease with Paul. Looking over at him, she saw he was intensely focused on the road, although he did wave at the radio and say, "Play anything you like."

As someone brand new to the college scene, hanging out with an upperclassman — a very attractive guy at that — Lauren's first instinct was to find some indie station that wouldn't seem too obvious and lame. But Paul seemed indifferent to that stuff, so she just turned on a pop station and began loudly singing al E's ong as they sped towards the Shoppes on Valley Bridge Mall. Shoppes! Lauren scoffed to herself. It used to be just the mall; now they were putting on airs as high class "shoppes." And that use of "on" — could it be more pretentious? But as Paul pulled into the parking lot, Lauren became distracted by her favorite song on the radio. It was the new single from a pop star who went solo after rising to fame as part of a "girl group." Lauren knew every word.

Paul walked slightly behind Lauren on their way inside, the better to check out that dick-stiffening ass as it swayed back and forth. He didn't say anything until they arrived at the food court, at which point he ceremoniously drew forth a timer, set it to 30 minutes, and asked, "Which direction do you want to go?"

"It doesn't matter to me," Lauren answered. "There's nothing I need here."

"Do you want to go down that way?" Paul asked, ignoring her comment and pointing to the mall's south corridor.

"Sure," Lauren said, her thoughts returning to that sweet hundred bucks as she walked a bit uncertainly in that direction. As she passed store after store, Lauren had to stop occasionally so that Paul could poke his head inside one and explore. Strangely, though, the only shops — er, "shoppes," Lauren corrected herself — that interested Paul were for women. He stopped at a jewelry store, a fashion boutique with leather pants on display, a posh French purse store, a women's shoe store, and with about five minutes to go, Victoria's Secret. All the while, Paul interrogated Lauren about her likes and dislikes, her style preferences, what beauty products make her feel her best, and what turns her on. Lauren answered every question, but she was only half paying attention. There were so many cute little treasures to discover at the mall!

Lauren's head felt lighter than air and she swiveled it effortlessly as she took in the sight of all the alluring lingerie. Her boyfriend would kill to see her in some of these skimpy nighties, she thought to herself, while somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she could hear Paul, faintly, finish his questions.

"Would you like your $100?" he asked, his voice muffled in Lauren's ears as if she were underwater.

Lauren reached out to grab the cash and felt a powerful impulse to spend it. These see through bra and panty sets were so hot! The thought of saving the money vanished. Now her only question was what lingerie set she needed. She wanted them all! Seeing her paralyzed by indecision, Paul helpfully directed her to a pair of pink panties. They were sheer in the front with a swatch of silk in the back, bigger than a thong but small enough to leave most of her mouthwatering ass exposed. Lauren knew she had to have them. She never wanted anything so bad in her life. The feeling was like nothing she had ever experienced — she felt a rush of adrenaline and dopamine cascading over her and suddenly all worries were forgotten. In fact, just about everything was forgotten. Lauren had no cares in the world and no thoughts in her head. She stood at the cash register, practically panting with excitement to get home and try on her sexy new underwear, but she didn't even know where home was. No matter, that guy she was with, what's-his-name, would know what to do. He was so smart and manly, whoever he was.

Lauren was so fixated on how hot she was going to look in her new pink panties that she hardly knew how to pay for them. She simply stood by the register, clutching her $100 bill and fawning over the see-through underwear in her hands. Paul gently took them from her, stepped up to the young woman behind the register, shot her a knowing look, and handed her a wad of cash. Taking the bag and his receipt, Paul leaned over to Lauren and whispered something in her ear: "Blowbot."

Hearing that portmanteau brought on a bracing jolt of sobriety. In an instant, the "shopper's high" vanished and Lauren returned to her senses as if nothing had happened. As they exited the store, Paul toting the Victoria's Secret bag in one hand and cradling the Adept's Guide in the other, Lauren couldn't help bragging a little.

"I told you ads don't do shit to influence me," she crowed, while flicking the crisp $100 bill with one of her French manicured fingernails.

Paul kept his eyes on the road as they drove back to campus, except to glance occasionally at the sweet young tits heaving under Lauren's sweatshirt. He congratulated her on resisting the clever devices that advertisers deploy. "You were right. You're the first person who had the self-control to hold onto the money. I'm impressed. And I finally have a robust data set for my thesis. This calls for a celebration! Come back to my dorm for a drink!"

Nice try, Lauren thought to herself. Sure, Paul was handsome and sexy, but she knew it was a bad idea to go back to his dorm room. She had a boyfriend and Paul was dating her roommate. But she didn't want to seem like she only cared about the money. Having one drink couldn't hurt. Besides, she had never been in an upperclass suite — it would be cool to finally see where her roommate has been spending all her time. "Ok, that sounds fun. But just one drink. I'm going to take a bus to surprise my boyfriend later."

Paul pulled his Tesla a little too fast into a parking spot, came to a sharp stop, and then just sat there, studying Lauren intently. Are you going to get out, Lauren wanted to ask, but she just sat there fidgeting in awkward silence, nervously thrusting her tits forward in the process.

After a tantalizing pause, which heightened Lauren's unease, Paul made it disappear with a single word. "Blowbot."

Lauren felt little lightning strikes in every nerve at once — an indescribable feeling of joyful enlightenment. She knew exactly what she wanted to do and she couldn't wait. Lauren swung her shapely legs out of the Tesla, sauntered over to the driver's side, accentuating the luscious pop of her ass with her walk, and opened the door for Paul.

Paul had to insert a chip card to enter his dorm, and again to enter his room, but Lauren held the door for him both times, then removed his shoes when he entered the suite. All the while, Paul acted like she wasn't even there. Lauren's need to serve Paul was cresting like a wave and by ignoring her, and making his desires inscrutable, Paul was driving that need to new and more intoxicating heights. Lauren's entire body felt as if it was dipped in a warm honey, slowly spreading a pleasantly tingling sensation to her fingers and toes. She luxuriated in the feeling while considering how to please Paul next. The one thing she knew — knew with all her being — was that she lived to serve him. So when Paul ushered her towards his bedroom, Lauren could hardly stop from skipping with delight.

Paul's bedroom was very dark. but Lauren could make out the hulking shape of a king-sized waterbed in the middle of the space. When Paul switched on a lava lamp, a red glow enveloped the room, reflected on all sides by the mirrored walls and ceiling. I should have turned the light on for him, Lauren scolded herself. She was desperate to anticipate and satisfy Paul's every need. She could hardly think of anything other than Paul, who seemed to become even more attractive by the minute. Lauren found herself just staring at him in wide-eyed adoration.

Paul climbed on the bed, so that his legs dangled over the edge. Sensing that Paul wanted to get comfortable, Lauren slid a pillow tenderly under his head, then knelt on the floor — covered in a thick fur carpet — and began tugging his pants off. It was as if she knew, without asking, that he wanted it that way.

"Thank you," Paul said, his first acknowledgement of Lauren since they retired to the bedroom. But the way he said it caused Lauren to ache with need. He didn't sound thankful and she could sense that he wasn't entirely satisfied. Ah, Lauren knew what to do. Even before her mind caught up, she found herself reaching for Paul's boxers and gently removing them.

This time, Paul said nothing and made a point of distractedly playing with his phone, as if he didn't notice Lauren at all. But Lauren noticed him... all of him. Removing Paul's boxers had freed his massive cock, which was draped, semi-erect, across his muscular right thigh. The sight of Paul's manhood had Lauren shocked and she gazed at it, adoringly, for a full minute, mouth agape as warm jolts of ecstasy cascaded down her spine and all around her clitoris. Lauren was alight with desire. She had to have that dick in her mouth — Paul must want that, she thought, even as her open throat was already plunging towards Paul's nine-inch monster. She almost made it, but Paul caught her by the chin and methodically pulled her gaze up to his.

Speaking in a firm, deliberate tone, and still holding her chin, Paul said, "You want that cock, don't you, little girl?"

Lauren wanted it like nothing else. She wanted to caress every rock hard inch with her throat, to please the tip with endless laps of her tongue, to slurp and slobber on it like a cock-starved little slut, to swallow his delicious load and then lick the cock clean. All she could dream of was to please Paul in that special way. But he wouldn't let her. Overcome with need, Lauren began whining and whimpering as Paul held her head up just above his magnificent cock. She parted those plump red lips in anticipation, but Paul held firm.

"If you want that cock, you have to do whatever I tell you, do you understand?"

"I will! I will do anything!" Lauren pleaded in her sweetest little voice, trembling with urgency as she struggled to plunge that cock into her mouth.

But still Paul denied her his raging erection until she answered one last question. "What are you, Lauren?"

For the stunningly hot eighteen year-old, it was as if time slowed to a near stop. She could feel her mind racing, while everything else remained still. What am I? What does Paul want me to be? And then it hit her. What had he called her?

Before she knew it, the word came out of Lauren's mouth. "I'm your little Blowbot, sir. My job is to suck your cock whenever you want for as long as you want."

"That's right, Lauren, say it again." Paul commanded.

"I'm your Blowbot and my job is to worship that gorgeous cock," she moaned.

Saying that word — admitting what she was — gave Lauren the naughty thrill of her young life. She lived for Paul's cock now. She craved his meat. She wanted Paul's dick filling her throat, slapping against her lips, battering her pussy, fucking her tits, and shooting cum on her face.

"Let me be your pretty little blowjob slut. Please," Lauren asked, fluttering her lashes innocently and playing with her pigtails while gazing lovingly at Paul's towering cock.

"Maybe," Paul said indifferently. "First let's see how well you follow instructions. Take off all your clothes and put these on," he demanded, handing her the sheer pink panties she had picked out at the mall. Lauren snatched them eagerly, but needed both hands free to undress. She tried to scan the room for somewhere to place them, but had trouble tearing her heavy-lidded hazel eyes away from the biggest, angriest erection she had ever seen. It was magnificent and she was drooling with desire to suck it.