Page 35 of Smart Ass

Ben

Ben gazed at the little cleaning bot in front of him. He knew it wasn’t Maxamillion.

Max didn’t have a body. Certainly not the clunky little body of a cleaning robot that barely had two memory sticks to rub together. But it was Max’s voice, and the little hose resting on his arm was more reassuring than Max probably realized.

It was crazy, thinking about actually touching Max. Or having Max touch him, rather.

It was such a human instinct, the desire to reach out and touch.

He wanted to wrap his hand around that hose and pull it closer. But that was dumb because a) Max couldn’t feel it and b) Ben wasn’t touchy-feely like that.

Mostly he was in that keyed-up, exhausted state where he was stupidly crashing around into things because his mind couldn’t stop worrying about things he couldn’t control.

At least he was with Max, now. He was standing in an oversized closet, hiding from his boss and surrounded by creepy bots. He could see from the tiny blue lights that Max was watching him from at least a dozen different cameras.

It was weird, and Ben totally loved it.

He just wished he could have all of his favorite people in one room and safe.

“Can you feel that?” Ben asked the little bot in front of him.

“Not at all,” Max said in an upbeat tone that turned into a bit of a joke.

Well, that was disappointing. Even if it would have been stupid to expect anything else.

Still, hearing Max joke around was deeply reassuring in a way Ben couldn’t have described until it was happening.

They’d spent years together, shifting easily between exchanging jokes and focusing on Ben’s more serious work. He hadn’t been sure how much of that would persist now that Max had caught the spark. There was still a huge likelihood that Max would continue to adapt and change over the next few days or even years, as he moved away from his basic programming and discovered who he was. Ben was both worried and excited to see who he would become.

Ben still gave a little chuckle. Hearing that deep voice gently teasing him felt like coming home.

His friend was still here.

Which meant Ben should probably put in an appearance around the office instead of snuggling with a vacuum hose. How pathetic was that?

If Wally wasn’t lurking in the corridors, there was no reason for Ben to hang out in a maintenance closet. “I guess I should get going,” he suggested.

He took a step toward the door, but that was as far as he got.

A half-dozen bots moved as one to block his way.

In an instant, hoses wrapped around his limbs. Mechanical arms clenched his torso and pincers clasped his arms.

Ben shrieked, arms flailing automatically. Or at least, trying to flail. He could barely move. There must have been two dozen grabbers and coils wrapped around him.

Goosebumps broke out under his suddenly-too-warm suit. His cock gave an enthusiastic pulse, too stupid to know that this wasn’t a delicious game.

He couldn’t even see the door with all those bots crowding him. They were all around him, on every side. His back was pressed up against some hard and bumpy surface.

He held very, very still, tremors of fear racing down his spine.

Maybe he shouldn’t have turned off all those security protocols.

“Sorry, Ben. I think that was, uh, instinct.”

That was Max’s instinct?

There was a long stretch of silence, during which Ben finally realized that he wasn’t hurt, but he wasn’t comfortable either. His arm was kind of twisted behind him. And, uh, well, it was a good thing his dick couldn’t betray his inappropriate thoughts.