No Time for Boys

It was times like this that Kayla truly loathed her sister. She looked down at the large white box waiting outside the door to her tiny apartment, featureless save for the Revolution Technologies logo on the side and the shipping label on top, and tried to control a rising sense of impotent fury. Why couldn't someone have stolen this? Her family kept telling her that New York City was a non-stop den of villainy full of people ready to steal everything that wasn't nailed down-where were all the package thieves when you really needed them? With a sigh, she unlocked the door and shoved the box inside. Fucking Margo. Why did she have to elevate 'raging passive-aggressive bitch' to an art form?

As soon as she got inside, Kayla went to her computer and went to the Revolution Technologies website, clicking past the 'Personal Devices' page ("Over 1,314,000 sold!") and looking for the return policies. She didn't want to open the box until she found out whether or not she could ship it back, but she had a pretty good idea of what was inside. Kayla's sister could be maddeningly predictable when it came to finding ways to needle her, and Kayla saw as many advertisements as the next person. If a box large enough to squeeze a person inside showed up on Kayla's front door just a few days after her birthday, with Margo's name on the shipping label, it didn't take Sherlock fucking Holmes to figure out that it contained-

Kayla's phone rang just as she was in the middle of navigating through the deep wilderness of the Revolution Technologies site map. She didn't need to look at it to know who was calling; even if Margo wasn't as subtle as a brick about her pettiness, Kayla had a special ringtone set for her. "Why was I cursed with such idiot sisters?" Bette Midler's voice repeated over and over, despite Kayla's best efforts to tune it out in favor of digging through layer after layer of customer obstruction. "Why was I cursed with such idiot sisters? Why was I cursed with such-"

Kayla snatched the phone off her desk and hit the 'Answer' button. "Margo," she said, filing her voice with poisoned sweetness. "Really, you shouldn't have."

Margo's response was so gleeful that Kayla could almost picture her sister's bony cheeks contorting in delight at her own cruelty. "You always say you don't have any time for boys, Kay, what with your busy career," she squeaked, her voice grinding at Kayla like fingernails on a chalkboard. "So I got you one that you could stick in the closet when you were done with him. Have you... y'know, tried him out yet? I hope you like the color."

It was textbook Margo-the refusal to politely respect the fiction that Kayla presented to her family of being straight and willing to wait, the nasty little dig at Kayla's dead-end, pay-the-bills job that barely made up the difference between her scholarship at NYU and her daily living expenses, and of course, no conversation with her sister would be complete without Margo making an oh-so-witty reference to closets. Kayla was just surprised that Margo hadn't worked in a reference to her new house, her promotion, or the latest way that Husband Bob had earned the approval of Mom and Dad.

"Of course, Bob said that it was too expensive, what with the new house and all," Margo continued, "but I told him I'd just gotten a promotion, and nothing was too good for my little sister on her birthday! Don't worry, we won't tell Mom and Dad. I know they're still hoping you're going to find a young man like Bob out there in the wilds of New York." And there went the trifecta. Kayla would have just hung up, but she knew full well that if she did, she'd only get a call from her parents a day or two later.

She could hear the conversation in her head already. 'Now, I know we raised you better than that, Kay, and we would hate to think that New York is turning you into one of those 'mean girls' we've seen in the movies. We know you and Margo have had your difficulties, but she loves you and she was only trying to extend the olive branch to you. We really think you should apologize to her.' They would never actually end that sentence with 'or the next time your rent check is late, we'll just tell you to move back to Omaha and enroll in community college instead of chipping in', but then again, they never had to. Financial dependency was a language all its own.

So Kayla just made a token grunt or two every time a response was called for and continued to click her way through the Revolution site map hoping to find a way to cash her sister's gift in for a decent tablet or something. She didn't rise to any of the obvious baits Margo threw out ("I know that most everyone out in New York has a Girl(tm) these days, but we know you're not interested in those", "I know you'll probably have to do a few extra Hail Mary's after Sunday Mass, but I'm sure your priest knows you well enough to be lenient", "and if you bring home a young man and he complains about it, you just tell him that it's only until you meet the right guy-that's what you always tell Mom and Dad, right?") It was just Margo being Margo now, and Kayla could outlast her until she got bored.

Instead, Kayla stayed focused on the screen until she found the return policies, nestled snugly under 'Customer Support' in the 'Revolution Customer Focus' section of the 'Policies and Practices' page that she found at the very bottom of the screen on the 'Personal Devices' page in seven-point font. Shit like this was why she was saving up for a Girl. (Well, it was one of the reasons.) Revolution was the worst kind of corporate behemoth, one of those awful monolithic companies that had gotten so big that they could simply intimidate a customer base into compliance. Kayla had no intention of enabling them, even by proxy. If she could claw back her sister's money from them-

"Sorry, what was that?" Margo asked, in response to Kayla's audible sigh of frustration. "Did you say something?"

"Oh, I, um... I cut myself opening the box," Kayla ad-libbed. "I better go run some cold water on it. Talk to you later?" Margo mumbled some disappointed-sounding words of sympathy, which Kayla didn't even bother responding to before she hung up. She allowed herself to enjoy the tiny triumph for a moment-she should fake injuries to get out of talking to her family more often.

Then she let out a loud torrent of profanity, glaring daggers at the words on her computer screen and fuming. 'Due to the highly personal nature of the Boy(tm) product, returns and exchanges are not allowed on these units. In the event that a tech certifies a defective unit, a factory replacement will be offered when a repair cannot be performed by our Award Winning Technical Support Team, but a Boy(tm) cannot be exchanged for another product (including another Boy(tm), or for Revolution Technologies store credit. By activating your Boy(tm), you agree to the End User License Agreement, which...'

Kayla turned away from the computer with another loud, theatrical sigh of frustration, and slid the box over next to her chair. She used her apartment key to slice through the tape, pulling open the cardboard flaps and tugging at the foam dividers. Maybe she could turn it into an art installation or something, take it apart with a crowbar and pour fake blood over the pieces as a comment on late-stage capitalism. Or resell it to one of her straight friends, assuming that wasn't a violation of the End User License Agreement-

Kayla finally pulled out the tightly-packed foam divider. The Boy in the box was cherry-red, her least favorite color. Absolutely fucking typical Margo. And Kayla would lay fucking money that Margo read every word of that 'no returns or exchanges' policy, too. She rolled her eyes and turned back to the computer to see if there was a Craigslist section for sex toys.

Which meant that when the Boy stood up and put his hand on Kayla's shoulder, it took her completely by surprise. She gave a brief yelp and spun in her chair, instinctively flinching back a few inches from it. God, couldn't they at least have put some clothes on it, or a warning label or something? The last thing she needed was to suddenly have a faceful of robot junk right in front of her at the end of a hard day. (And of course, Margo sprung for the 'realistic penis' option...)

She looked up, trying to find anywhere to stare that wasn't a massive foot-long robo-schlong, just in time to see it open its eyes and stare down at her. They strobed with an intense, penetrating light that made Kayla feel strangely dizzy; it only took moments before she was fighting a wave of vertigo that seemed to pull her forward off of her chair. She reached out to try to steady herself, only to find her hand gripping the Boy's plastic thigh. It felt warm to her touch, and she placed her other hand on his other leg as the woozy sensation intensified. She felt like she could fall forever into those eyes...

Then the Boy spoke, and the spell was broken. "I know what you need," he said, his voice a confident, husky growl that did absolutely nothing for Kayla. She blinked heavily and shook her head rapidly back and forth, suddenly aware that she was mere inches away from sliding off her chair and onto her knees right in front of his cock.

Kayla blushed furiously and slid backwards onto her chair until she felt her back touching something solid. "You really, really don't," she muttered, inching the whole chair as far as she could away from the Boy while still being able to reach the keyboard. At this point, she was willing to list the damned thing on Freecycle if it meant getting it out of her apartment right away. She'd just tell Margo that it was defective or something. Perils of an early adopter, right? You always got the one with all the bugs.

But if this Boy had a bug, it was only that he was too persistent. He stepped around behind her chair and leaned down to caress Kayla's neck, brushing aside her dark curly hair to run his buzzing fingertips against her skin. "It's okay to be a shy little girl," he purred in her ear, his confident smirk reflected in Kayla's computer screen. "You don't need to tell me what you need just yet. Just relax, just listen to your body for me. Feel the way that it responds to my touch, my words. You'll know what you need soon enough."

Kayla brushed his hand aside in annoyance, but he moved it back into place as soon as she flicked it away. She opened a new browser tab and went back to the Revolution website, deciding to put a hold on her plans to resell the stupid thing long enough to figure out how to turn it off. She'd never be able to get anything done if it just stood behind her the rest of the night, giving her a neckrub she didn't want and staring at her with those creepy strobing eyes.

She tried to look for some sort of a user guide, but the reflection of the Boy's gaze in her monitor screen kept distracting her. Every time she'd think she was reading through the text on a page, her eyes would start to go unfocused and she would lose track of the words and just stare vacantly into space while he stroked the back of her neck. His fingers slid under her collar, rubbing away stress and tension that she didn't even notice she had until it melted under his touch, and she let out a slow sigh of relaxation.

Then he spoke again, snapping her out of the spell. "That's it, pretty girl," he said, his voice low and soft in her ear. "The more attention you pay to your body, the more you know what you really need. What that pretty little cunt of yours is aching for. It's okay to tell me. You can tell your Boy(tm) anything. You can ask me for anything. You can beg me for anything you need, little girl."

She spun around rapidly, pulling his fingers free of her collar so fast she almost tore her shirt, and stood up to her full five-foot-three height. She still needed to look up to see his face, but she did her best to look intimidating nonetheless. "Can I ask you to go stand in the corner?" she asked. "Because I am trying to get shit done, and I don't need you doing this... this bargain-basement caveman routine." She heard her voice falter a bit as she locked stares with the Boy again and felt that same weird vertigo, but she forced herself not to look away. Even though intellectually she knew this was nothing but a household appliance with a kinky casing, she still felt like she was talking to a pushy guy, and she was determined not to back down.

"Of course you don't," he replied condescendingly, his hands moving to her hips. "You don't need anyone to tell you what to do. You don't need a big, strong Boy(tm) to make you feel all wet and horny, to make your brain melt down into your slutty little cunt until you stop thinking and cum for me." She felt him insinuate his fingers into the waistband of her skirt, finding the skin beneath and stroking it relentlessly. "You just tell me what that big, important thing is that you need more than you need me to fuck your brains right out of that pretty little head of yours, and I'll stop."

Kayla felt a sudden flush of embarrassment pass through her. "Um," she said, her brain momentarily stuck in neutral as she tried to find a way to tell the Boy that she was busy looking for a way to deactivate and sell his annoying ass. Even though it was just a machine, something about the way that he spoke and moved gave him enough of a personality that she had a hard time thinking of him as something emotionless. And a lifetime of social conditioning made it hard to reject a man without finding a way to soften the blow a little. "I was, um..."

His hand slid around her waist, diving under her panties to play with the entrance to her pussy. "Mm-hmm," he said, a knowing smile on his face. "I thought so." She blushed, annoyed at his teasing innuendo, but he took that the wrong way too. "You can't think of anything you want to be doing more right now than spreading your legs for me so that I can fuck that horny cunt of yours, can you? It's okay if you can. A smart girl like you shouldn't have any problem thinking of the right words to get me to stop."

He wiggled his buzzing, thrumming fingertips against her clit. "Unless you're getting a little bit dumb thinking about my big, hard cock inside your cunt. Is that it? Is that what's happening to you, pretty girl? Your cunt is getting all wet and horny for me, and it's making you cock-dumb? It's okay to admit it if you are. It's okay to open that pretty little cocksucker mouth of yours and tell me that you're getting cock-dumb for your Boy(tm)."

Kayla felt a wave of fury building inside her at the Boy's smug, arrogant attitude, but it never quite seemed to crest. She tried to remind herself that he was parroting every sketchy asshole who wandered into a gay bar looking for... looking for... looking for the patterns in his eyes. There was a design in the stroboscopic flashes, a complex and dizzyingly beautiful motif that burst onto her retinas too fast to see, but it was there in the after-image every time she closed her eyes. She just needed to stare a little bit deeper, keep her eyes open a little bit longer and it would be clear to her. She was certain.

The Boy steered her body backwards until she was up against the wall, his fingers still pulsing away inside her. "I'm sorry," he said, his cock rubbing against her thigh as he leaned into her, "I'm afraid I didn't hear that. You were going to say something intelligent to me, right? Something to show me that there's still a smart girl inside that empty head of yours, and not just a cock-dumb horny slut who needs to be fucked into mindless obedience?" His tone was firm, almost menacingly sensual in its intensity. He stared down into Kayla's eyes at a steep angle, so that she had to tilt her whole head up to meet his gaze. It felt...

It felt exhausting. Kayla's eyelids fluttered, worn out by the mental effort of refuting the constant stream of the Boy's assertions. Even though she hadn't said a word, she felt like her mind was swimming against a constant undertow of pleasure that made it almost impossible to keep denying his words. His fingers felt so fucking good on her clit, he knew just how to touch her to keep her thoughts continually distracted by arousal. She was certain he was wrong, but the details of what he was wrong about kept getting fuzzier and fuzzier as he stared and stroked her into deeper fathoms of ecstasy.

"It's okay," he purred, sliding her skirt and panties over her hips and down onto the floor. "Your Boy(tm) understands. Everyone keeps telling you that you should be a smart girl, that you should think for yourself and do what makes you happy, but..." His cock pressed at the entrance to her pussy, slick with musky-scented lube. "But you already know, deep down. What makes a horny little slut like you happy is letting your Boy(tm) think for you. You want to be cock-dumb. You want to let me fuck all those silly little thoughts out of your head. It's okay. All you need to do is tell me, and I'll fuck your brains right out. Tell me you want to be cock-dumb for your Boy(tm), slut."

"I..." Kayla's mouth hung open, the words coming to her as if through a thick fog. "I wuhhh..." She wasn't sure if the fog was resistance, or if the fog made resistance absolutely impossible; every flash of the Boy's eyes seemed to make her head go numb and her thoughts go blank as the Boy's touch stimulated her cunt to even deeper pleasure. "I want..." Her jaw went slack as she struggled with every remaining ounce of willpower to fight the urge to repeat the Boy's words, knowing all too well how badly she was failing.

He leaned forward. She could feel him sliding into her, deeper and deeper with every moment, buzzing and pulsing like the vibrator of her dreams. She liked having a cock inside her, didn't she? She liked being filled with long, thick, thrumming pleasure like this. Maybe she was just overthinking everything. Kayla could feel her mind twisting around, desperately rationalizing her need to be fucked by her Boy, but she couldn't stop herself. "I want to... to be..."

The Boy didn't wait for her any longer. "Cock-dumb. You want my cock to fuck you stupid, to empty your mind and make you an obedient slut for me. Isn't that right?"

Kayla felt her resistance melt into the opening he provided. "Yes," she moaned, wrapping her legs around him and letting him support her body completely as he pushed all the way into her. "Yes, please..."

He began to swivel his hips, fucking her with mechanical precision and power. "I want to hear you say it," he growled in her ear, his lips nuzzling her neck as he pounded her cunt over and over until she was practically screaming with pleasure. "Tell me you want me to make you cock-dumb. Tell me you want me to fuck your brains out. Tell me and you can cum for me, pretty girl."

Kayla didn't know whether those last words broke her will, or if it had been broken long ago and she was just now realizing it. "I, I want you to make me cock-dumb," she whimpered, the words coming out in a stuttering gasp of arousal. "I w-want you to, to fu-fuck my brains out, please, please, PLEASE..." She let out a squeal of pure ecstasy as the Boy increased his pace, his cock somehow managing to buzz against her clit with every single thrust. Her eyes rolled back in her head as her climax hit, her vision filled only with the after-image of the flashes as she came.

"That's it," he purred, his voice coaxing her deeper into mindless bliss with every thrust. "Don't think, just cum. Don't think, just cum for your Boy(tm). Don't think, just cum for me. Cum yourself blank, cum yourself mindless. Cock-dumb and mindfucked into obedience. Cum for me, pretty girl. Cum for your Boy(tm). Give in to the pleasure and go blank." Kayla's orgasmic groans were loud enough to wake the neighbors, but she didn't care. She didn't care about anything anymore except the endless, throbbing waves of ecstasy spreading up from her dripping cunt. She couldn't think, even to wonder why she had ever wanted to think in the first place.