reanbeanmachine | gross au

[This "doll" is fresh off the assembly line. He hasn't had time to develop individuality -- he will. He'll find his emotions before he finds his sense of self, but he is human, altered or not.

He's human, but as of yet there's nothing in him but emptiness, and the knowledge he's been handed by the people who made him: he exists to serve. To fight, to die, to do anything he's told without question. The why doesn't matter, just that he does it. One day he'll build up resentment, but he's only been "alive" for a couple of days and he barely even knows how to have a solid thought.

He doesn't know there's anything wrong with this. He doesn't know there's any reason to flinch at the touch, or to hesitate in kneeling. The man in front of him is one of a handful he's been created to obey, and for now there's not enough personhood in him to do anything but that. He goes down on one knee immediately, quiet, his eyes a little unfocused and devoid of everything "Crow".]

[It's the right reaction. Pleasantly obedient, empty, not even a spark of the man he was. Osborne drops his hand to play through Siegfried's hair, contemplating. It doesn't take long, of course, he's a decisive man, and a man of action. What he decides to do, he puts into practice.

One hand cups the boy's cheek, thumb tracing his lips.]

Do you understand what sex is?

[Was that necessary information for the human doll? It hardly matters either way of course, though it's a different starting point depending on the answer.]

[He tilts his head slightly, looking up at Osborne with the faintest confusion. He knows, in a technical sense. He knows a lot of things on a paper -- things that allow him to talk like a normal person. To act on the field without making himself obvious. Sex is something other people will talk about, so he knows. It's something an operative might need to use, too.

And maybe his creator just thought it might be funny to load that in, with the express knowledge that this very scenario might happen.]

Yes.

[He knows, but he doesn't know why it's relevant here, or the details of how it works. He also doesn't know why it should matter -- that a normal person should be creeped out right now, that he was once a person who would have rather died than feel that hand on his face.]

[The blank look is also amusing. This person is no longer a canny enemy, but his to control. He'll exert that control here, now.

He presses to tips of two fingers to the boy's lips, voice a calm command.]

Suck.

[He knows enough to be confused, but not enough to protest. Without hesitation he opens his mouth, sucking on those fingers with no real enthusiasm but no resistance. His body know what he's doing. He's done it before, in a time he no longer knows exists. But his mind is a little lost and unsure why this gets him so flushed.]

Good.

[It's pleasant enough. Lackluster, but the doll-like obedience has its own charm. He pulls his fingers from Siegfried's mouth after a few moments, smears then over his cheek and then coaxes his head forward, undoing the zipper of his trousers and pulling out his cock.

No need to stand on any ceremony or foreplay, that's half the charm of a toy.]

Now, suck on this.

[Yeah he's still lost. He's doing it though, despite a weird sinking feeling he doesn't understand. Why is this being asked of him? Why does it make him feel so warm, and yet so nauseous?

It tastes bad. Is this really something people choose to do? Weird. This whole thing is weird and he doesn't even have a point of reference.]

Make sure not to use your teeth, or to gag.

[Siegfried is definitely not going to get closer to understanding the whole point of this as Osborne grabs the back of his head and pulls him down, forcing him to take as much cock as he can down his throat, testing both the limits of his gag reflex and his built in obedience.]

[He tries, but he can't help gagging a little. He's still human after all, and a startled, puzzled human at that. But he doesn't bite. And he doesn't pull away, even if instinct tells him to, because this is what he's been ordered to do. He wants to cough but he can't, so instead his service just turns sloppy, with little stressed noises straight out of a disturbed fantasy.]

[Really this is part of the appeal. Though the novelty will wear off eventually, he'll have Crow, no, Siegfried well trained by then.]

You're terrible at this.

[He says with mild amusement. Of course that's what he's enjoying right now. That this boy doesn't have the personality or memories to be anything but terrible at this. A blank slate, raw clay to mold into a image Osborne wants.]

No matter, you'll learn.

[He fucks Siegfried's mouth with deep, lazy thrusts, until the boy looks like he's dazed from lack of air and the abuse, and then he pulls him off by the hair.]

Get undressed.

[He's grateful when he's pulled back and he feels kind of guilty for that. He's supposed to be obedient so he shouldn't be bothered by this, but a little part of him is. That's the part that takes a few seconds to cough and gasp for air, and the part that's wondering why he feels distantly troubled.

It's a small part though, overpowered by the need to do as he's told and perform well. The larger part of him is eager to please if not excited about the particular situation, so as soon as he can breathe he nods politely, following that order too, shedding his coat and wriggling out of the tight bodysuit beneath.]

[It really is quite endearing, this transformation. He walks back to his desk while Siegfried strips, leaning against it to watch and gesturing for him to come forward when he's done getting naked.

He's a handsome young man, easy enough on the eyes. That's a bonus, but not a requirement.

He runs his fingers along Siegfried's jaw, down his neck, finding one of his nipples and tweaking it thoughtfully.]

[He's doing exactly as he's ordered, so why does he feels unsettled? He doesn't know. He doesn't know about pleasure, either, not really, so he's confused at his own half-arousal, at the heat in his face as it's flushed pink.

Something feels wrong. Being looked at this way feels wrong, and he doesn't understand. It's like there's something just out of reach in the back of his mind -- a nebulous idea that things should be different. Have been different? But he can't remember anything like this. He's only just created, so how could there have been anything? And yet he has the disquieting feeling that he's felt hands on his skin before, only so much softer. So much more affectionate -- and what's the point of that?]

...What should I do?

[He feels restless and that's not right. He's a little dizzy.]

[He gets the barest raise of an eyebrow at the question. Osborne has to wonder, is it nervousness, eagerness, or something else prompting the question? It hardly matters now, he supposes.

He steps away from the desk, around Siegfried to place a hand on his shoulder, leaning forward to murmur into his ear.]

Now you lean across my desk and try to keep standing.

[He gives Siegfried a little push, forward and then to bend him over. Not particularly forceful, almost guiding, but not with any warmth or gentleness. All this is deliberate control.]

[He doesn't resist the push, but he can't seem to banish the fuzzy sense of wrongness. The voice in his ear makes him shudder, and he can't tell if it's a good or bad feeling. What he can tell is that he's a little bit cold, and nervous in a way that's foreign to this new existence.

He doesn't know to feel exposed. He has no clue that a couple of months ago he would have fought this like an angry cat. His flush is still creeping down his neck, bright against his skin, and he rests his head in his arms on the desk to think. What is going on here? Why does he feel so strange? It's not knowing what's bothering him that's more upsetting than the feeling itself.]

[Nut really caring what Siegfried is feeling about this Osborne runs his fingers down from his neck, along his spine, over his ass. There he pauses, spreads his ass cheeks and contemplates.]

Reach into the top drawer on your left, pass me the bottle of lotion.

[It's there in handy reach for another pretty young man who visits his office, albeit one more willing than this doll. And satisfying as taking Siegfried roughly would be, he wants to see him shiver. There's something enticing about the knowledge that this obedient creature could be docile and moan sweetly for him when the personality he once possessed would have done anything but.]

["Crow" is a person who talks a lot, talks fast, and always has something silly or sarcastic on the tip of his tongue. "Siegfried" has nothing useful to say, so he says nothing, though he flinches, breath hitching, at the fingers down his spine. He opens the drawer and finds the bottle without looking, hands it over with no protest or question about what's happening.

Internally he's got questions, but it's not his place to voice them. He's just here to obey, so any weird, unexplained feelings of trepidation should be ignored.]

[Osborne strokes his hip in silent praise, taking the bottle and slicking his fingers with the contents.

He's quite experienced, so while he's not deeply gentle in pressing a large finger into Siegfried, he's also prefectly meticulous, careful enough not to cause harm. His other hand is sliding back up Siegfried's spine, slow and intimate as he stretches him, assessing coolly how much time he should take on this before he judges the man sufficiently prepared. While he's at it, he's certainly going to finger Siegfried's ass with the full intention of teasing his prostate.]

[He can't remember past experiences, so he doesn't expect it -- not the weird invasive pressure, and certainly not the spike of pleasure. It makes him gasp, jumping in surprise as his breathing gets steadily faster.]

[Osborne doesn't pause. His methodical attention is expert and also quite relentless. Though he starts to speak again.]

How does that feel?

[Like he doesn't fucking know,]

Mm-- It's good...

[It feels good in a way he wasn't anticipating and doesn't know how to deal with. But it's also... weird. Definitely weird. It's nice but it's making him feel so disoriented and lost. He doesn't understand why it's happening, and he definitely doesn't understand why it's making him feel so much like he wants to scramble over the desk to hide from it, when he also can't help leaning into it.

He's panting, whimpering, and burying his face in his arms, a gesture that comes from a place he doesn't recognise. He shouldn't know embarrassment. But he's got enough of a real person in him to do some things on instinct.]

[The reactions are interesting. Not entirely a blank doll, but still, hat itself is good too. Someone with no reactions at all would be boring.]

Don't hide the noises you wish to make.

[He commands is casually, as he adds more fingers to this. He's not going to take too long, but he will enjoy resting his hand on the back of Crow's neck as he fingers him, listening to his whines of pleasure.]

[Just hearing that order gets a noise out of him -- there's something oddly thrilling about it, the total confidence in the voice telling him what to do. He can't help being attracted to it, just because there's nothing about himself he's confident in. There's nothing he's hard on himself about either, it's just that everything is so empty and uncertain that it's hard to have conviction about anything -- he doesn't even have an identity to have pride in. Someone else's surety is grounding, in a world where Siegfried has nothing much to hold onto.

It's not banishing the weird feelings, though. Those persist, confusing in their strength, leaving him wondering if there's something inside of him he's not aware of. Why, if it feels so good, is it making his chest clench? It's like there's a thought just out of reach. But chasing an unknown thought is kind of secondary to the physical sensations right now, so he's not trying very hard. He's just getting progressively louder, as pleasure warms him over and jolts up his spine, until he feels weak in the knees and needs to lean harder on the top of the desk to avoid slipping.]

[It's adorable honestly. Osborne pulls his fingers out of Siegfried, presses down on the young man's neck where his fingers hold him, and lines his cock to the boy's ass.

He takes him in one stroke, firmly, a little too hard, nothing about it anything but absolutely sure of himself, and he pauses only briefly to let him get used to it before he's fucking him. It's not a gentle fuck, rough and a little overwhelming. Using Siegfried like his property, for Osborne is his master, but he can make even that feel good, and he fully intends to hear the boy scream and moan like a wanton slut before he's satisfied.]

[He can't move but he does jolt at the feeling of being taken, crying out in mixed pleasure and pain and trembling as he adjusts to it. It stings, but not that badly -- not nearly badly enough to keep it from being incredible. The roughness is a lot but he has no frame of reference to tell him it should be any other way. He only has how it feels, which is mind-numbingly good.

Osborne is treated to all the moans and hiccuping breaths he wants (and so is anyone in the hall, honestly). He's still got his face buried in one arm, but the other is sliding across the desk, fingers splayed and pressed hard against the wood. It's hard to think so it's easy to ignore the formless sense of wrongness turning his stomach.]

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