(I have never written much of anything before, let alone fanfic. I humbly offer my first foray into writing for Tumblr to judge. This is a peek at my thirsty imagination about Kirsh. Also available on ao3)
Alien Earth fanfic, reader x Kirsh. 18+, fluff, robot boyfriend, synthetic smut, plot plus pleasure. word count 6403, chapter 1/4
Part One. part two. part three. part four.
You are a spaceship scrap salvager newly employed by Prodigy to retrieve restricted equipment from a recent shipwreck. Hardworking, from low income housing, interested in classic literature. An accident caused deadly damage to you, and Prodigy provides a new synthetic body to replace your mind into. Due to being the grown age of 33, this was a limited transplant procedure, and not as detailed as the Lost Boys. Certain memories, as well as emotions and abilities deemed no longer important to the corporation, were not transmitted to your new body. Your new main purpose is to source locate the certain restricted equipment you had previously been working to salvage, and secure its return to Prodigy. They did this because you, having been the only actual survivor of the initial salvaging accident, provide a unique knowledge of the ships layout and the location of the classified parts. All memories and talents in relation to this subject have been replicated and programmed to perfection in your new body, streamlining you to be a flawless scavenger. Boy Kavalier does not consider you as a project impressive like the hybrid children, but more as a highly specialized bloodhound of sorts. An expensive new tool.
As chief science officer, Kirsh has generally managed the project of you since the accident. While Mr Sylvia was technically in charge of your program, the typical Lost Boys maintenance workload piled onto him by Kavalier proved to be too much, and most of the actual supervision over your operations was pushed off onto Kirsh. For the synthetically designed being he is, the extra added workload did not provide to be too much. Rather in some ways, he has inwardly relished the chance for more power of control and, in secret, programmed one specific freedom of mind for you as the newest synthetic hybrid being. The ability to form new neuro pathways in the emotional regulation response synapses, or in short, the potential to learn emotions. Still, unsure of exactly why he chose this specific project to exhort his power over to create such a secret, he tells himself it’s for the simple reason that he’s curious to see what could happen. And the image of Boy Kavalier’s face crumpling if he ever found out about this subtle insubordination would only be a bonus.
After being successfully reborn as an android, programmed to follow Prodigy protocol, gained control of the power and energy cycles within your new body, and have now been fully mission ready trained by Kirsh himself, you’ve been given access to nearly the entire island. Security clearances around the hybrid androids is of the highest level, and you are no exception. This leads you to taking solo walks through the lushness of jungle surrounding the secret facility walls during any downtime between missions. Not particularly that you mind the bustle and company of the laboratory, and your young minded fellow hybrid synthetics typically are easy to be around as there is an obvious and deeper connection to them than any other human coworkers. However there is a stifling quiet quality to being inside the building, some sort of dampening of the senses that is reminiscent of a misty veil cloaked over you. Always upon stepping outside, the mist seems to part and your senses shift back into focus, sharpening to the full extent of your programmings allowances. A bloodhound let loose for their daily constitutional, to sniff the air and snoop among verdant scenery.
There is no potential of running into your programmed prey, salvage equipment, on the island, so any possibility of dangerous trouble is minimal in your case. Deemed acceptable risks in the eyes of Boy Kavalier. Though when this habit to take independent walks first began, it did not escape your notice the approval on Kirsh’s face when you explained your reasons as to why you felt the inclination to, as he put it, 'wander'. “And if you do come across any unusual or unique specimens, what are you to do with them?” he quizzed you almost ironically. “To document the site and bring them back for further scientific analysis at the labs, of course, sir.” There was a humorous shift in your response that caught Kirsh’s attention and he pressed the matter further. “Don’t be sarcastic. While you may feel this island provides you safety, there is always unknown dangers within the possibility of simply existing in our world. With the recent completion of your program and training, it would be a shame to see any setbacks happen to you.” The white of his eyebrows furrowed briefly and then lightened back into a complacent expression. While you didn’t speak right away, your immediate thoughts went towards whatever he was alluding to, but you could not grasp at what he might be referencing. What unknown dangers within the bounds of this island could possibly cause a potential setback for you? And what did that even mean, a setback? With a knowing look towards your chosen silence, but as if he could almost hear your thoughts, Kirsh flashed a pleased grin. A sudden strange blip of warm energy surged in your abdomen, though you didn’t recognize or understand this sensation. Was Kirsh pleased that you kept your questions to yourself? He always has seemed to encourage building personal strength and perhaps this was a lesson in privacy. You wanted to show you are learned to this lesson and therefore worthy of his approval. “Sir, any unknown instances will be immediately reported and dealt with as ordered. You have my corporately programmed promise, sir.” The habit to defend yourself with humor harkens back to the days of your human existence, but the habit of calling Kirsh ‘Sir’ is entirely new since the rebirth of yourself. Boy Kavalier is Mr. Boy, sometimes affectionately and sometimes deprecatory, though you doubt he knows the difference. Mr Sylvia and Dame you refer to as such with a sense of respect and surely they understand it to be so. Kirsh, though.. is said almost in reverence. His name comes from your mouth like the last drop of water on a dry night, and it leaves you with something akin to a thirst. So the title Sir has stuck, still in reverence and respect. Can he, too, hear this in your voice with every utterance of his name? “Very well then. I shall continue to allow you permission to wander the island, on one condition. Moving forward, you will address me only by my name. Sir is respectful, but rather military, wouldn’t you agree?” Ah. So he had sensed the ulterior motive in your usage of formal title, and in the typical deft manner of flawless execution that Kirsh performed every task with, he hit the nail straight on the head. “Yes s- Yes, Kirsh.” There, simple and easy to speak out. No more of those parched thoughts nonsense could be heard in this utterance. At least, this was your biggest focus and hope in that one moment. After all, if privacy really was the true lesson behind his warning, then you ought to heed the teaching. This worked to at least end his determined expression into a smile of acceptance. Or was it more of a smirk really?
He turned away, seemingly appeased with this statement, and continued thoughtfully, hands laced behind his back, down the entrance path and back into the laboratory courtyard. Your so called walk that day was a long one, through to the wooded depths of jungle layers. Varying degrees of geologic variation within the cliffs, rivers and waterfalls of the island provided ample opportunity for you to work out the deeply wound spring of energy that had blossomed from that unusual power surge earlier that occurred when Kirsh smiled. What had his insistence for you to use his name been brought from? All throughout training, Sir was more than acceptable. Perhaps that’s it, you told yourself. With training over, he simply wishes to establish the mark of a new stage of my employment. This reason does little to actually explain, but your lowered expectations level programming allows you to leave it for now. Between the leaps and bounds off tree and stone, you noticed not a single unknown danger. Instead your thoughts turn back to the sense-dulling veil of the science building and its possible source. An intentional dampening disruption could be a design implemented by Prodigy to create more control over the hybrids abilities, but why would that be necessary? While on the way back to the facility that sunset, with all the physical strength to scale several rock faces that your highly advanced technical abilities can afford you, the answer to this question is not found in your programming. The matter of this fact revisits you often over the course of your many subsequent wanderings around the island. Mysterious pre-walk warnings from Kirsh, however, did not occur again.
-
The churning wheel of industry knows not about hybrid androids, and cares not for human life. A spacecraft from Weyland Yutani crashed into a city square owned predominantly by Prodigy, ruining swaths of densely packed urbanization and causing many casualties. Immediately, missions to retrieve new technologies were ordered. You had been on the original roster for retrieval. Though uniquely programmed for a different salvage mission, your capabilities remain useful for the main theme of this mission: seek, secure and return any valuable equipment, information or specimens to be found on this ship, the Maginot. Before departure, the gang of young hybrids convinced the leaders to allow their company to take up the mission as well. This news surprised you upon first hearing it, but a short reflection on the subject of Boy Kavaliers very name alone suggests some form of reasoning behind this decision. What had been entirely unsurprising in your eyes was Kirsh and the Sylvia’s responses to this. The maternal reluctance from Dame, Arthur’s silently uncomfortable compliance. And Kirsh, cautiously enthusiastic about supporting the young generation through their first foray into field work. On the ride over to the crash site, the Lost Boys lived up to the name. Lighthearted in that ignorant sort of way only a child can make charming, the boys mostly played during the mission briefing while the girls tried to harness their energy slightly more efficiently. You note Wendy’s particular impatience towards the brevity in her companion’s attitudes. Her being the oldest as she proudly claims, put her as their team leader, but through her maturity of character and empathy, she naturally fills the roll well. Not to mention favoritism is undoubtedly directed towards Wendy from your superiors. Mr. Boy has a particular sense of indignant pride for Wendy, Dame will claim to love the hybrids equally but biometric readings reveal to all the synthetics her slightly more at ease nature with Wendy as well. Even now, during the temporary bustle airship of travel, you can see that Kirsh is directed at Wendy, offering the exact support and encouragement to push her into the mind set he wishes to prevail on her. This sight causes an instinctual response to your lips and you find therein is a smile resting on your face. Perhaps to see his display of almost tender support for the young hybrid, that must be what caused the smile.
Synthetic beings have seemed to be Kirsh’s preferred company many times now that you’ve seen, and you can understand why. With you and the all the new kids, 7 total new additions to the team of synthetic employees in command of Prodigy caused quite the stir in the secret inner inner circle of the corporations zeitgeist. Did Kirsh feel lonely before you all had arrived? Well what a silly notion, fully synthetic as he is he wouldn’t feel much of anything at all. Boredom seemed possible, but to be honest you’re not entirely sure of what exact capabilities Kirsh possesses. You glance back over his way with a curiosity, and tried to study him with the reasonable indifference of a machine. He sits upright, not in a rigid manner but an attentive posture, a relaxed poise that betrays no sense of the purely inhuman strength and ability beneath his structured grey uniform. The whiteness of hair had been a source of curiosity for you in the past. At one point or another you’d notice his eyelashes remained a darkened hue, in contrast to the white spikes of hair that coifed his head and trailed down to perfectly tailored point of side burns. The white follicles, subtle facial hair and age lined face all imposed the idea of intellect and wisdom. With this standard observation however, a new question approached your mind. What about the hairs on his chest? Surely a synthetic designed to perfection with such exactness as Kirsh would be a fully accurate reproduction of a human male in the age range of 50 years, and include accurate measurements of body hair to boot. This funny idea led naturally to the next, and you found yourself wondering upon just exactly how anatomically correct Kirsh’s unique body model had been designed. Was there a trail of little white hairs leading down his belly, with a trim thicket of white bellow that yet? This unusual thought flashed through your programming and it caused something warm to build up inside your cheeks. It felt uncomfortable and so you shift in your seat, suddenly much more aware of your own presence and movements. Between the tiny glimpses towards him you’ve resigned yourself to risking due to worry of him somehow again reading your thoughts, you almost think you could observe him smirking out of the corner of his mouth. Had he seen you casting curious looks his way? Did the heat in your cheeks transfer to color, could you possibly have blushed and Kirsh had seen it? Unlikely as it seemed due to your inferior emotional capacity processing chip, the thought of being able to feel embarrassed of all things was not a particularly appealing one. With this imminent mission being all the hybrids first field op, the last thing you need is to be distracted with such unnecessary noise in your mind. Programmed for mission success, you finally succeeded in archiving the pondering of Kirsh’s lap for another time, and access instead basic salvage protocol and procedures. A much more efficient usage of your mind during this flight.
-
They say fear has a scent. More likely, humans have been mistaking the scent of blood for that of fear. Heavy with the tang of iron, blood’s odor clung to them all on the return from that mission. Animal blood from the mists of death which filled that wrecked ship, mostly human but with some other creatures musks mixed in also, new and acidic by comparison. The flight back to Prodigy labs was still, silenced by the heavy sight of Wendy in suspended animation and her brother unconscious, both strapped to medical beds. A menagerie of unique organisms had been collected on the Yutani ship and were transferred then processed into the secured science lab on arrival. Mr Boy in all his disregard for others well being, held a rather large smile sauntering down to the lab room and as he passed by you in the hallway, you felt like you’d seen a young boy sneaking off to peak downstairs at the presents under the tree on the night before christmas. Continuing to write up a regular mission report on your work surface, it was a good several minutes before Boy Kavalier passed by you again. A snap of his fingers drew your eyes up and you wait for instruction like a dog. “You. Get in there and help Kirsh lock that lab down. From here on out it’s synthetics only allowed, got that?” Simple commands from him that required no questions, only completion. “Understood, Mr Boy.” His robe trailed behind him while he continued padding barefoot down the hall.
Self strength and privacy. The last one-on-one lesson which Kirsh offered that day before your walk had been deeply rooted in your memory banks since. If Mr Boy thinks of you as his dog, what if anything does Kirsh think of you as? A house cat? The thoughts shrugged out of your synapses as the clearance code granted you access to the science lab, and there you could observe Kirsh, himself observing an alien with astute curiosity. Your entrance did not cause him to stir, and you took this silent moment to straighten your uniform out before addressing him. “Ahem. Orders in for me to assist the science team with data collection, sir. Erm, Kirsh, I mean.” This explanation of your presence did not revoke a response from him either initially. You look to see which creature he is observing, and from within the large glass security tube, a tiny sort of eyeball peers back at you for a split moment. A few seconds later Kirsh finally casts a look towards you. “Very good. Let us first begin the cataloging of this creature,” he leads you towards another tank, the mist obscuring finer details of its contents. “Further orders from our manufacturer include that we disbar humans from assisting in this research lab, do they not?” You give a wordless nod of confirmation. “And why do you suppose that order was given?” He sends you a wry look. “Because… because humans prove to be an unnecessary risk to the specimens?” “Not quite. In truth it may be nearly the opposite, y/n. These specimens are a danger to humans. We as synthetics can continue to monitor these organisms with minimal risk to our own wellbeing.” This concept seemed to please Kirsh, and the sardonic tone of his statement is not lost on you. This also had a double meaning, and idea of no one joining to help assist in research left you to acknowledge that it may well be you and Kirsh alone together in this science lab for some time. This revelation induced another echo of warm energy through your throat, which you urgently fought to suppress. Focus on the work, you told your programming. If Kirsh had any inkling of your heated conceptualization, he gave no signs. Instead for an hour or so the two of you worked to categorize each new creature.
Starting with a large fly like insectoid, then a confusingly plant-like creature D Plumbicare with its delicate seeming stamen. The tick creature gave little inspiration for conservation and was catalogued uneventfully as well. The next topic of xenomorph specimens provided much more dialogue between you two. It was rare to have any sort of specimens from this race at all, let alone multiple living eggs and a dead fledgling xenomorph body. You wondered briefly about Wendy and how her recovery from this fight is going, but decide not to pose this question to Kirsh. Shifting focus instead back to the scientific research, your synaptic pathways course with half baked theories over the long term consequences of holding several xenomorph eggs in containment. Kirsh too seems to treat the xenomorphs with borderline admiration, though you don’t comment on this. The final animal captured for consideration was possibly your favorite in some small way. The appearance of T Ocellus, a rotund organ of vision with multifaceted pupils and several noodly appendages, made this beast unlike anything found naturally on earth. It sat mostly calm and unblinking, its regard switching occasionally to you but mainly remaining fixed on Kirsh. Something you and the little vision ball have in common. Just how much was that eye able to observe, anyways?
"..and that concludes the current findings of Trypanohyncha Ocellus. Further readings to be taken once we… figure out how to hook it up somehow." You had meant it as a statement, but wondered that it didn't sound more like a question to the teacher. " …yes, indeed.." Krish, still hunched over the last specimen's jar, postulated, "And how exactly might you suggest we do that?" You study the creature in thought at this. While most of its pupils remain fixed on Kirsh, several now look expectantly towards you. The feeling of being watched was an understatement, and you were nearly sure this creature could understand exactly what you were discussing outside its glass prison. A sudden cold buzzing in your gut set in. Guilt? "Sir…Kirsh, -should- we hook it up?" He straightened suddenly, his attentions turning from the alien to you. "Are you feeling alright?" He seemed to realize something then, his hazel eyes glimmered over your form, and a familiar smirk breached his pallid face. Your program sent shivers down your spine. "Yes S- That is, I don't feel, I mean. I, ah, am operating within adequate parameters, Kirsh. I suppose it was only a question of morals.", you finally stumbled out in earnest response. This only did to increase the severity of Kirsh's gaze, and he took a step towards you. "Let me ask again, y/n. Are you, experiencing unusual feeling, outside of your primary programming?" His flat voice emanated a hunger for the truth. You take a step backwards.
Remember the last lesson. Self strength and privacy. Was this some sort of test? What parts of the truth do you tell him, if at all? If he already has suspicions on your state of mind, surely it can't be wise to share such details.. and yet. "Well, there have been… blips." "Blips?" he echos back, coaxing more explanation. "Sort of like, brief jumps of energy, surging through me. It's .. warm." As you offer a description, the sensation returns. Like a fluttering heat to your cheeks and abdomen and throat all at once. You step backwards again. The smirk he held earlier has turned a smaller expression of approval now. His lips forming a more gentle, yet still crooked smile, as he continues to question you. "And so tell me. The energy surges, have you noticed any commonality between these occurrences?" He takes two steps towards you. You're sure somehow the mechanical heart inside you just started beating faster, and more so, you're positive Kirsh can hear it. For a brief moment you wonder if the T Ocellus in its jar is watching this whole incredulous moment with mirth. This thought brings more embarrassing heat to your face. "I h-that's something I have.. have noticed on occasion, yes." "Your cheeks appear flushed. Is that too a symptom of this warm new feeling?" You nod yes and step back once more, only to bump into a work table behind you. Trapped, and like all the other specimen in here, under Kirsh's control. "Do not obfuscate the truth from me," his tender warning continues on, "And answer clearly. When do these unusually warm energy readings continue to occur?" "When I'm around you, sir." This seemed to be the answer he was looking for.
He stepped forward again, closing the gap between you. Mere inches away from him, the room felt empty beyond you two, despite all 5 creatures still crawling in their containers. All the programming in the world could not prepare you for this sensation, and your emotion manifold processors zapped blinks out into your brain, searching for anything to say next. Kirsh noticed your hitched breath and raised one white eyebrow. His next action was chosen with clear consideration.
He set down his own work recording pad on the counter behind you, leaning in close enough that you could feel his artificial breath on your skin, and kept his hand on the countertop. His unblinking gaze worked its way from your eyes to your lips, slowly down your neck and shoulder, to rest on your right wrist. "I wonder then.. What sort of sensations might you experience, if I were to do this?" With that question, his hand left the work surface and wrapped itself around your wrist, rubbing his thumb along the soft of your inner palm. An eruption of hot feeling boiled up from deep within at this sudden contact, and a soft whimper escaped your lips. "While I enjoy your lascivious emissions, it does not answer my question. Be serious now, this opportunity for research should not be taken lightly. Describe what you're feeling right now." Was this a test of secrecy? If so, you were now fully prepared to be given a failing grade. To utter admittance of what was growing inside of you would surely result in full and instant total program failure, but the pressure felt so great. "Kirsh, I…" Tightening his grip slightly, he brings your wrist to his mouth and kissed it. You lost all remaining composure. "Ah! Yes, Kirsh, I do feel. It's wonderful and terribly uncomfortable all at once, like I- ahh! Like I'm going to burst with heat and a, and a hunger.." The answer you croak out trails away into moans while Kirsh's lips part from your wrist and his kisses work their way up your forearm. Your ears are ringing and you hardly register his next question. "And what is it for us to truly feel these things as a synthetic being?" Only Kirsh knows that the very possibility of these feelings had been imparted onto you that fateful moment of experimentation during your core programing, by himself. This moment of data collection proved a rare opportunity for further research to him, and he intended to take full advantage of it. He stops attending your wrist with his lips for a moment and waits for you to answer, with something like gentle appetite in his smile. "I don't know.. if what we feel is just part of a program, does that make it real at all? Maybe not in the human sense. It doesn't make sense for a tool of the corporation to have this extent of emotional perception, does it sir?" Kirsh grimaced. "Let us assume what you say is true, and you are indeed a tool of the corporation… then what should I do to fix your repeated failure to comply?" You gasped. Failure to comply was not something you'd been accused of in all your time at Prodigy so far, and you weren't about to change that. "Sir, I would never.. I aim to honor your orders!" Were your feeble answers to his interrogation not good enough? Leaning in close, he whispered the answer in your ear. "I ordered you…. never to call me sir. How do you suggest I fix this malfunction?" And with this, he licked your ear. "…oh Kirsh, please..", you shuddered. You weren't even sure what you were pleading for. He, with his faultless programming, knew exactly what you were asking for. And for whatever reason, he also decided it was going to be your punishment.
His kiss met with your neck and you moan out again, leaning yourself against his form. Unaware that you had entangled your arms into his until now, he lifts you up with ease and sits you onto the countertop, displaced lab research papers falling to the ground. Running a hand through his white hair, his name escapes your lips again. He smiles at this victory, but still takes this moment to teach a quick lesson. "And if you ever call me sir again, I will ensure you shall recieve my direct and personal punishment ", he purred. This threat sent a shock of feeling through you. Not fear, but more of that heat surging from deep within. You found that the notion of being punished by Kirsh was not wholly unwelcome to you. Instead this insighted your body to respond on its own accord and you wrapped one leg around him, pressing yourself onto his core. He let out a groan, the first you'd heard to break free from his lips. It made something snap inside you and finally, for the first time as an artificial hybrid synthetic, you felt pure lust. "Kirsh… I feel.. I feel like an animal, I'm so starved for you. I swear it feels more intense than any time as a human." This revelation comes from you in gasps, and whether it's true or not you can't tell or care. Maybe this is all just chemically charged reactions, simple data to be collected. It didn't matter anymore. You would admit any truth to him now, even if it left you at his mercy. He could smell this vulnerability radiating from you, and he was aware that you'd become totally his. With his realization of this came an answer to a question you'd asked yourself before the mission. You felt him harden and swell up in the front of his pants, physically aroused at the thought of his control over you in this moment. So he was fully functional.
Kirsh thrust into you hard and, at last, his lips met yours. The soft and warm of his velvet tongue clashed against yours playfully, once or twice accompanied by him grazing your teeth with his. His hand reaches up beneath your layers of uniform and rubs your breast, nipple between his fingers that felt so warm and lifelike, you couldn't believe he was a synthetic body. More of your moans broke the kiss and you peered at him. His wild white hair you've now left tousled spikes out in messy directions, and you don't think you could ever have imagined him looking so good. What mess he must see looking at you now, you don't want to know. As if he heard this, Kirsh nuzzles your cheek lightly in yet another unexpectedly affectionate fashion. This synth is really full of surprises today, isn't he. "You needn't worry. I find you pleasing to view in this disheveled state." How can he do that, always tell what you're thinking?! "Kirsh, can you.. hear my thoughts?" He let out a dry chuckle and shook his head before explaining, "No, I cannot read your thoughts. Realistically, I can read just about everything else about you though, from your micro expressions, synthetically programmed heart rate and breathing, to the blood pressure that increases down here when I do.. this.." His hand that isn't entangled in your blouse reached down and caresses your crotch. Again you whimper and melt in his arms, and the hand works its way to undue the buttons of your pants with ease. Anticipation sent your stomach somersaulting. "According to my astute powers observations, I believe you would be pleased if I continue on… Am I correct?" He has that ironic tone again, but you are too far gone to care. "aAhh.. Kirsh… Continue on, please. Don't stop." It tumbled out of your mouth without thinking. Kirsh growled in response, and it was clear he enjoyed hearing you say this. His fingers slipped between your pants and underwear, rubbing down softly to the warmth that hid beneath. Returning his lips to yours, the two of you held together fiercely. In a swift movement you extend a hand towards his swell, palming it for a beat before also working to undo the buttons of his pants and reveal what rest there. Organic or synthetic, the diagnosis would have been the same. Kirsh was huge, hot and throbbing as you held him in your hand. As if in response to this exposure, he pushes your panties aside. Wet pink softness meets his fingers and he rubs up and down. Sensation goes off and you whine for more, nipples hardened as he pulls his other hand out from under your shirt and holds your face. He kisses your moans, and licks your neck down and up. You feel him harden even more in your grasp.
"And you, Kirsh. The perfectly designed synthetic, who's meant to lead us all. Do I feel good to you? Do you want me to do.. this?" You perform the perfect dance of disentangling yourself from him and he allows you to push him back onto the countertop, taking your spot and leaving you standing. Well, not standing for long. Lowering yourself to your knees in front of him, he understands your intentions and lets out a mutter of approval. His large member exposed before you looks swollen and delicious. Pulling your hair back messily, you motion for Kirsh to hold on. He acquiesces and takes a gentle grip of your ponytail, while even gentler still he guides your head forwards just an inch. You lean in the rest of the way, taking his tip into your mouth and licking all around the rim. You hear mumbles of pleasure from above and continue to work your mouth down his shaft. Lashing your tongue over every inch, you lose yourself in the scent of android musk and white hairs. The pressure of his hand on the back of your head guiding each stroke, the sweet sticky of precum mixed with saliva dribbles down your chin. Kirsh pulls you back suddenly with a heavy breath. He directs you back to your feet, ignoring the slight worry on your face and crushes your lips to his. "It's all just chemically produced fluids, nothing to be embarrassed about." He wipes a drop of wet from your chin with a proud look in his eyes. You get the feeling he really does enjoy seeing you become undone.
In one quick motion, he sits you back onto the work table and opens your legs. Pulling your pants and now sopping wet panties down, Kirsh presses into you. The hot, artificial skin covering his cock grazes your clit and everything else melts away. You desperately kiss him anywhere that's within reach, licking and nibbling at his neck between kisses. He uses a hand and guides himself inside your pussy, one finger remains rubbing on your clit to help you ease in his size. The wet of your body greets him and you press forward more, eager to be full with his cock. In typical fashion, he can tell exactly what you want and painstakingly, he delivers it. The space between you is closed completely as he thrusts into you. Tightly fit in, every tiny movement sets you on edge. Slowly, he pulls out, bit by bit, and thrusts back in again. Sensitivity from him fucking you raw feels good, so you tell him as much. He replies with another pumping motion and you bite into his shoulder to fight back a yelp. He liked the bite, so you did it again. This time he pushes you back all the way, and now you're laying down on the counter as he continues to ram into you. Lifting one of your legs up to rest on his shoulder, one hand returns to rub circles around your clit while the other one grasps at your breast. Pulling off your shirt and bra you give him total access to your flesh, which he relishes. The throbbing of his manhood inside you is increasingly drawing you near to completion, but you fight the urge. Kirsh can feel this in the tightening of your muscles around him and forces into you harder. You wonder if Kirsh can secrete cum. You dearly hope he can, as the thought of him cumming inside you is such a sudden motivation you can't help but yearn for it. Your fervor increases as you approach fulfillment and look up at Kirsh, his eyes heavy with lust, and he moans your name. That was all it took, and you nearly crested the wave. In turn he let out a groan and plunged all the way inside you, filling you with his synthetic seed. It was too much and you cried out in pure ecstasy, hit with fireworks of color in your mind. The thick of his cock still stuck inside, you could feel it twitching out every bit of cum into you. He leaned down to kiss you, surprisingly gentle for what animalistic exchange had just occurred. Then, pulling himself out of you, he helped you sit back up. It seemed almost funny, you scrambling to get your bra and shirt back on, him elegantly buttoning up his work uniform again and smoothing his hair back.
The lab floated back to existence again and there you both were, unusually messy but none the worse for wear. You wondered if this experiment would be considered a success. "Kirsh.. Are we.. Did we just..?" "Collect valuable data from an extremely unique anomaly? Yes, that's exactly what we did. Y/n, I recommend we keep this experiment between ourselves, wouldn't you say?" Was this it, the root of the lesson? Is Kirsh using privacy to encourage you to keep secrets with him? He certainly taught the lesson efficiently. "Very well, our little secret then. You have my absolute compliance." Your loyalty now belonged to him, although the programming in your brain didn't understand what that meant yet. "I'm glad to hear it," he quipped. A smile crinkled his eye slightly and he continued on, "I will clean up here and submit our report on the findings of our new organisms. You should get washed up and return to duty."
It wasn't posed as an order, but you followed the suggestion like it was anyways. With a coy smile you prepare to exit the lab. Stopping near the door suddenly, you turn around and glance at the tube containing T Ocellus. You suppose it had observed everything that just happened, but at that point you were beyond embarrassment over the matter. "What will we do with it?" You asked him. His eyes follow yours to the creature and he shrugs. "Well if you're unsure about the morality of hooking it up to the computer for further reading, perhaps we can connect up something else instead and send it in there, to see what happens." "Sir? I mean, Kirsh?" You didn't quite understand how that could be of help, and you hoped he would ignore that last sir. "Never mind for now. You are dismissed for the day. Please have Tootles report to me. And instruct him to bring a sheep with." You decide not to question this and leave to carry out his orders. As you make your way farther from the science lab and what took place inside, your mind cleared slightly. You know it's not a productive thought to have, but you can't help but wonder. When would your next private data collection experiment with Kirsh happen again?
