Posted in writing

The Emperor

Of Armor and Bone: Chapter 3

The warm glow of the sun crept over the high rooftops of Tulefore City. The red tile roofs shined bright from the morning dew that had been left behind by the dissolving morning fog. The first few shopper had begun to make their way out to the market streets to begin their shopping for the day. Along the water front, the smell of smoked fish intertwined with that of the sea. Farther down the cobbled stone embankment, the fishing ships had begun to stow their sails for the day. The tanned seamen climbed up and down the mast and rigging, grasping tight as the waves slowly rocked their boats back and forth inside the moorings. Continue reading “The Emperor”

Posted in writing

Death in the Air

Of Armor and Bone: Chapter 2

Far from the sanguine battlefields surrounding the foothills and rivers around the base of the Sing Mountains, the once zealous Xiandolan magi had been at work. They had sought a way to use their magic to turn the tides of battle without ever having to step foot outside the city. Forged, sharpened, and assembled under the effects of their powers, swords and armor could be created, bearing the near incomprehensible forces that the magi carried. Such equipment gave the wielder the strength to block attacks both physical and magical, able to deal them in return as well. Before enough could be produced, the call to arms from the front line arrived. The four completed sets of armor and weapon were quietly shipped with the supplies, ready to be put to use by a select team of men, those who had previously gained their renown under the title Magekiller. Continue reading “Death in the Air”

Posted in The Author Himself

The Hiatus

Let’s see what’s been keeping me from writing…

Without a doubt, Nanorimo in November always takes it out of me.  Heading out of town for a week for Thanksgiving left me unable to do much besides the intermittent tapping away of my laptop. Whether it be over the sound of my grandparents watching Fox News, or between servings of dinner and desert on Turkey day, I managed to keep up most of my work count.  In case you were wondering, I did finish my word goal.

December left me having wanted to stay and have that break off, to play games.  I like my job, but also having time to sleep in really is something I can’t go without.  Weekends always seem too short.

I told myself that over winter break I would make some good lesson plans and write some good stuff.  I even had my students do a writing assignment right before the break so that they could work their imaginations as well.

The first week of winter vacation, I managed to waste plenty of time enjoy myself playing more online games and sleeping in, but I made up my mind tha after the new year, I would take time to be productive.  Sadly, New Year’s day, I got news that there was a death in the family, and that part of the funeral arrangements would be my responsibility.

Now that everything is– excuse the dark pun– in the ground, I hope to get back to writing.  Check out the first chapter of something new in yesterday’s post!

Posted in writing

The Sing War

Of Armor and Bone: Chapter 1

Once upon a time, atop the deserted snowy peaks of the Sing Mountains, a meteor roughly the size of a bale of hay arrived from the sky to make contact with the surface.

The impact shattered the jagged spires, lodging the mass deep within the earth. Isolated, the event could have gone completely unnoticed, were it not for the infinitesimally brief moment of the objecting emitting an immeasurable burst of pure celestial energy.

Around the continent, those even marginally attuned to the magical forces may have felt the slightest of tingles up their spine and through the cells moving single-file through the capillaries at the tips of their fingers.

Those who recognized the significance of the sensation they had just experienced immediately began to pack their bags in order to set out and find the source. Almost overnight, communities of magical folk seemed to have picked up and left their abodes behind, leaving many a town without their healers, defenders, and magicians. The headmaster of a certain school of sorcery quickly departed from his post, goading some of his teachers and misguided students into doing the same. Though the exact location wasn’t clear, the building congregation in towns on either side of the mountain range told that the hopeful adventurers were close.

By that time, however, the heavy winter snowfall had already covered the upper elevations and blocked off any of the passes that would be able to take anyone deeper into the range. Even the most powerful of magi found that they stood no chance against the unforgiving elements. Resting in wait, tensions grew as talk of what one might do should they find the source of the power first.

At the first signs that the snowfall had stopped and that the cold winds had lost their edge, people began to trudge up the treacherous mountains and crags in order to find any signs of the fallen rock. Months of searching followed, but as the melting snows revealed more of the bare rock underneath, little more than bits of rubble seemed to remain on the surface. Those lacking confidence or perseverance took the long discouraging road home. Others returned home in hopes to persuade their countrymen to come and join their efforts and dig into the hard rock of the mountain and unearth the magical object.

It wasn’t long before the governing powers of several nearby provinces took notice of the search for the still mysterious yet promisingly powerful artifact. With heavy tools in hand, small legions of working men marched on the mountain, setting up townships and mining camps from which to start. Guided by their fellow wizards, they begun their digging into the hard rock of the mountainside, hoping to eventually unearth the object. As men from various other kingdoms began to descend upon them to dig their own tunnels, tensions rose.

The slow, back-breaking work took the men deeper only inches a day, while their eyes remained fixed over their shoulder to monitor the progress of the others on either side. The first blood to be spilled occurred at the happenstance meeting of two tunnels; one belonging to workers from the Kingdom of Xiandol, and the other dug by men from the Arkyan province. Mining picks, shovels, and steel buckets became their weapons, each blindly attacking at the outrage that the other was attempting to encroach on their territory. At the end, the tired men of Arkyan, exhausted and of fewer numbers, fell to the Xiandolians.

News of the event spread around the region. With each passing message, distrust for one another grew, wondering when the next conflict might arise. Kings and Governors sent out armed troops to provide protection for their workers, but as each force added to their regiments, others reacted with their own set of protections. With the growing number of people inhabiting the foothills of the Sing Mountains, more and more supplies began to come their way, supply lines stretching all the way from the far shorelines. From the huts and barracks, sturdier buildings grew, constructed from the stone that had come out of the many deepening tunnels inside the mountains. Women found their way out to the growing settlements to reunite with their husbands; eventually to grow, harvest, and cook food as well.

Inside the mines, the men dug tirelessly, feeling as if one day the might find the magical object that still eluded the masses. With each meter deeper, the mountain seemed to rumble more vigorously and more often. Cave-ins were frequent, but never enough to dissuade the fixed-eyes of the men and their tools.

Walls eventually went up around the settlements to protect the growing infrastructure, as hostility was in no short supply. Without fail, the cold unforgiving winters would bring hardship, which would lead to stealing of crops, supplies. Hunting parties would often be found traversing tentative borders in order to find game, sometimes running into enemy forces instead. As landholdings became closer and closer, attacks became bolder and fiercer, each side ready to pounce for open space.

The first of the battlemages was brought in by Tulefore, a Kingdom known for it’s rich legacy of folk with mage blood. Any attacks by a opposing force were brought to their knees by the magi’s unequaled power. Other provinces quickly hired their own forces of witches and wizards trained in magic of the destructive kind, able to harness the powers of the four elements, as well as others deemed unholy by some in the magic community.

With the introduction of such power, the body count rose quickly, and many more men were funneled in as a result in order to supply a proper defense. Many of the smaller neighboring land claims took allegiance with the bigger kingdoms for safety. At the tipping point, more men were focused on fighting than digging at the mountain, hoping that they would eventually gain the entire system of tunnels to themselves. Historians would come to dub this period of time The Sing War, with the two participating kingdoms; Xiandol and Tulefore, fighting back and forth almost endlessly.

Bounties were soon places on the heads of opposing magi- any soldier that could remove one from the battlefield would be granted great honor and a title of ‘Magekiller.’ Despite their great power, many magic found themselves being singled out and hunted down by both soldiers of sword and axe, as well as other magi. The battles ebbed and flowed for months, with both sides losing man and mage alike. On the third winter, an envoy from

Tulefore went forth to the Xiandolan forces to propose a deal. The magical folk had become dissatisfied with their role as weapons in the hands of normal men, and they wished for no more blood to be spilled by their intervention. The meeting of two magical ambassadors from either side some time later forged a lasting agreement. Such agreement stated that magi could only fulfill the role of noncombatant, furthermore declaring that any further involvment would be considered as a crime of war.

Following the pact and the forthcoming spring thaw, both sides prepared for more fighting and digging ever deeper into the mountain. Swords and other martial weapons remained at sides for some time as the men knew that fighting in the fashion that they once did would be both more arduous and less fruitful overall.

It was one winter day inside the dark, damp labyrinthine tunnels under the mountain that the magical energy suddenly disappeared. The magical folk of both sides, unable to sense the object’s power, had to assume that it had been unearthed and taken away by the opposing force. Before word could hardly return to either side’s home, fingers were being pointed back and forth, each force unsure of the other’s role in the disappearance of the energy. Armies stood, blood boiling, as they awaited the first signs of news that they could unsheathe their weapons.


Posted in writing

The Grind Before Christmas

‘Twas the night before Christmas,

And all through the house,

You know the story; even the rodentia population had a snooze and a snore.

But one young man, of 26 years old, was still pounding away at the keyboard.

Was he writing another one of his stories for the world to see?  Perhaps editing it?  Perhaps something short for his blog?  No, none of the above, because the call of online games was too great to ignore.

Posted in writing


I’ve never been a fan of my appearance.  For Halloween I decided to cover myself in a sheet.  I was a ghost.

Simple– said the first lady I came across, standing at her door of a house decorated in immaculate fashion– Yes, sometimes simple is better.

So spooky– mocked the group of children, bags still limp with only a few meager treats.  With a laugh or two, they ran to the other side of the street.

On a porch sat a man, dressed as a fiend.  He feigned immobility until the moment you reached for his candy.  Sadly for him, jumping out of reflex is not in my nature.

I heard the judging voices of the mothers waiting for their little monsters to return from doorways– Isn’t he a bit tall?  Perhaps I am old.

I began to think that this whole Halloween thing was not for me.  In the cold new November air, I felt the wind pulling at my sheet.  Then with a tug, it was pulled away.

It’s a skeleton!– I heard the scream, as the people finally took notice of me.



Posted in writing

Adrift in the Darkness

Don’t mind me… just warming up for NaNoWriMo.

“If anything goes wrong…”  They said,  “You all know just as good as anyone what to do.  That’s why you were brought on, because you’re the best of the best.”

After the assured faces of mission control flickered off the screen, and the countdown reached its final tick, it was do or die, just as tentative as any other launch.  We all knew the risks- if something happens at this stage, there is little to do to fix things.  The purgatory zone between the Earth’s atmosphere and the outer reaches of space provide no guarantee.

When the rumbling finally died down, and the light reflecting off the surface of the Earth finally disappeared into our peripheral vision, we were allowed a chance to take a breath of the cold air of the shuttle cabin.  A quick peak outside the rear window revealed the tiny speck that was our final set of thrusterss falling back into the vast expanse of the ocean below.

“In the case we lose contact…”  Mission control chimed in once again, “we wish you all the best of luck.”

After a point, that was the only thing they could readily provide us… no amount of advice would guide our hands in dealing with problems, and warnings from our systems would have long since ruined our voyage by the time results would have reached them.

Day 20, during a quintuple check of our headings, the signal went dead.  That first day in the silence, we were happy to be free of the drone of mission control.  I wasn’t sure who was going to end up more dispirited, mission control sitting in a big room full of computer screens, or us, sitting in a tiny tube filled with them.

After two days of silence, we began our attempts to tune back in to the signal to communicate with Earth.  The blue orb of our planet had long since faded to a tiny azure speck, only visible during one quarter spin of the ship turning on its axis.  It turns out, despite our many attempts, even our best could not fix the problem alone.  It was as if there was no longer a signal to be found, no fault in our system either.

We sat silently for weeks, the faint hum of radio static constantly in the background in hopes that a signal would reach us.  I wouldn’t say that worry was on our mind, but more we wished to keep those on Earth updated.  Reaching the planet would be no more than a rehashing of our times in the simulator, but missing out on the cheering people celebrating our touch down would seem like no more than a hollow victory.

Before we knew it, the red planet came into view.  The radio was still no more than static.  Saving our sanity, we finally turned it off.  In our excess of time, we double checked, triple checked the lander and the supplies.  The planet’s gravity grabbed a hold of us, and we finally decided to take the plunge.  The pilot directed us to the surface with little more than a bump, which is what it must have felt like to everyone- not one giant leap like in the old days.

The supply drop that had been sent down for us preemptively sat just where we expected it, albeit more weathered than we would have though.  Inside, we were hopeful of what we were to get our hands on-  a standing satellite dish, to better pick up and transfer the signal, and hopefully contact Earth once again.

The familiar static returned as we honed in on something that sounded human.  Finally, a voice called out to us.

“Who is this?”

We answered hastily-  The Jonah.  We replied that we had arrived safely, and ready to report on our travels.

“The Jonah…”  The strange voice at mission control uttered breathlessly.  “You all were lost almost a decade ago.  How could you be contacting us, after all this time… after we thought you all were simply just gone… forever.”

The glances between us showed signs of apprehension, knowing very well that we had been on our ship only 8 months, and no longer.  Drawers of pouches of food sat still ready to be eaten, the boxes on the calendar checked off religiously.

“I don’t know what happened but…”  The man said, still in disbelief.  “There are others there now.  A settlement.  Go, and meet them.  If it really is you all… they will find your visit quite peculiar.  I’ll let them know you’re on your way…”

Posted in writing

Those of the Planet

I remember waking up.  I think it was cold, but I wasn’t sure.  My mind was hazy.  I went to the big monitor screen on the wall, black and lifeless.  In the thick glass sat my blurry reflection, thought it was hard to make out.  Somehow, though, I subconsciously knew how to turn the device on.  It came to life– as did the others around me, too.

They all stumbled around similarly, listless.  Same as me, just like a newborn, unaware of the world we had just arrived in.  The monitor flickered.  Their eyes turned my way, gathered around the warm glow.  The flashing ellipses trailing after the text reading ‘Searching for Signal’ wavered for a moment before disappearing entirely.

A man’s face replaced the dark background, bearded, smiling weakly.  “Good, you’re awake.”

“We are but…”  I paused, looking down at my bare body for a moment.  “I don’t remember who I am exactly.”

The others peered around at each other, likely coming to the same conclusion.  The bearded man nodded knowingly, lips pursed.  “Yes, yes.  It’s a side effect of the long sleep you’ve been through.”  He explained slowly.  “It will all come back to you in time.  But… you should know where you are, how to operate things, no?”

“Mars…”  I mouthed, somehow as if my lips had been trained to produce the sound.  Behind me, a bright light flickered on from the ceiling, one of the others having found a switch.  Beyond the walls of the room, I could hear machinery starting to hum to life.

“Very good.”  The man nodded his head, voice slowly being eaten away by static.  “Your orders… directions will be held in the computers and terminals there.  You should know as well, that everything you need is provided for you.  It is a… long distance here to Earth, so communication will not always be possible, but… I think you all will get along fine.”

With a final crackle, the video feed stopped, returning the screen the black.

I remember when I first was able to recall my name.  Adam.  I can’t remember how it returned to me, but I was one of the first to regain my… identity, if you were to call it that.  I also felt at ease giving orders, and the others seemed to take them at stride.

Just like the bearded man on the screen had said, we found ourselves perfectly able to adapt to the surroundings, despite not having much idea of how to proceed, or even where to start. The station, sitting seemingly all alone out there in the middle of the vast reddish brown land, was our home.

Every free corner and hallway was a jumble of crates and boxes, packed away seemingly haphazardly.  Upon further inspection, we discovered that it was just the opposite.  Each container was labeled and coded very deliberately.  Slowly, the crates were unpacked; the contents finding their ways to parts of the station where they seemed appropriate.  A manifest we came across slowly had it’s lines and sections crossed off until every last item was accounted for.  Not each item had a use that seemed pertinent at the time, but we figured that their uses would be discovered with time.

Readings showed our water supplies sitting comfortably at 96%, but the documentation we were able to access reminded us that the reserves would slowly deplete over time, due to evaporation or unforeseeable leaks.  Another set of instructions referred to plans of expansion, calling for another 500 gallons for a project that had yet to become apparent.  The girl with dark blonde hair seemed comfortable taking over the role of assembling a team to start assembling the condensers to start pulling water vapor out of the thin Martian atmosphere.

As we discovered more systems either sitting idle or completely inactive, more and more people split off from the group to take upon the tasks of getting these systems and devices back running.  Once again, we found ourselves unsure of the use of certain things, but we all assumed at one point that everything would fit together as one.

I remember when the fire started.  It could have been a blown fuse or a frayed wire, but I don’t remember caring for the reason at the time.  The fire extinguisher that I had passed so many times seemed to call out to me to be used.  As soon as it was out, everyone who had been alerted to the presence returned to their work.

I started to feel distant from the others.  None of them had rediscovered their name like me.  I sat by the monitor in the main room, hoping that the man with the beard would return one day and give us more instruction.  I started to pour over the remainder of unread documentation in the station’s computers.  While there was extensive lists of supplies and tools, their locations, and their uses, there was not a shred of any sort of crew listing.

I remember the day when the tall man collapsed.  He had just completed the testing of one sort of device inside one of the rooms when he tumbled to the ground where he stood.  We dragged him to another room and propped him up, hoping to reawaken him.  After some time trying, we gave up, and the others returned to work.  Before I could decide what to do with him, another collapsed.  Then another.

The room started to fill with the lifeless bodies of the men and women of the crew.  I started to feel panic, and decided that I could not face the others in my state.  I went to the computer once again to try and diagnose if there was a problem with the station that I had missed.

One sensor had been reactivated- the one to measure the mixture of nitrogen and oxygen in the atmosphere of the station.  It snapped in my brain that it meant something of great importance, but I couldn’t decide why.  The readings I pulled up stated that there was danger in the current readings, but for what reason I could not find.  I decided to exit my seclusion and gather the others in the room, to alert them of the strange danger.

I tried my best to explain to them my fears, but none seemed to want to take heed.  Slowly, I saw some of them pass out just like the others, one by one, until I was the only one left.

I can’t remember how long I sat there, pondering when it might be over for me, when the speakers around the station started playing a voice.  “Adam.”

“Who’s there?”

“You know this voice, Adam.  Please come to the monitor.”

I stood up hesitantly, beginning to walk to the command station.  “Sir, I think the others are… dead.”

“Dead?”  The voice asked.  “Where did you learn that word?”

“I… don’t know.”  I bit at my lip, wondering the same question.  I arrived in front of the monitor past the large sliding doors, peering at the bearded face of the man who had contacted us so long ago.

“It simply means that you’ve completed your duties… They are… resting.”  He explained, eyes strangely seeming to lock with mine through the glossy glass of the screen.

“But for what…?”

“For the others to arrive.”  The man stroked his whiskered chin.  “You’ve properly prepared the station for them.”

“More humans?”  I pondered aloud.

“I want to tell you something Adam.”  The man shook his head sadly.  “You were the only to remember your name, no?”

“Yes.”  I looked back at him, then down at my hands, the skin rough, yet somehow seeming soft and springy under my own touch.

“You were the only one mean to.  The only one given one, in fact.”  His eyes drifted away for a short moment.

“Given?”  I reached up to feel the smooth, faintly warm surface of the screen.  “Then who gave us… or withheld from us, rather, names?”

“It does not matter, Adam.”  The man sighed.  “The point is that that sole fact- the idea of remembering your own name- distracted you for long enough to not worry about the rest of your memories.”

“Why won’t they come back, sir?”  I pleaded.

“There are none, Adam.”  The man seemed to hesitate.  “You’ve never made any memories of Earth because you were never here, at least, while awake.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Humans are social creatures, Adam.  We are social, we learn from each other.  You found nothing strange in the actions or habits of the others because you acted in the same way- the way you were programmed.  You believed that the others around you were human because you thought yourself to be a human as well, despite never actually meeting one.”

“Then I’m not…?”  I looked down at my hands again, suddenly unaware of whether or not I could feel the temperature of the room around me, or the feeling of the clothes upon my skin.

“Call yourself what you want but… human is not quite the term.  You may not know what humanity is actually like, but… I believe you soon will.  After all, you and the others have prepared everything well for their arrival.”

Posted in writing


A loud, rapid knock at the door jarred Ryan out of his usual Friday after-school cartoon binge, the regular occasion lasting from the time he got home from school to the first click of keys in the door of his mother getting home.

Mom can’t be home yet, did they have a short day or something?

Running to the door, bare feet pattering against the hard-wood floor, Ryan rushed up to grasp the knob, swinging it open lightly just in time to see the big brown delivery truck pull away from his house.  Sitting by his feet upon the worn-down ‘welcome’ mat sat a thick-looking cardboard box, almost like a crate or coffin, taking up a large section of the porch.

The delivery man had slid it awkwardly, wide side towards the door, impossible to bring inside without turning it.  Who ordered this?  Mom?  Dad?  Ryan peered down at the box, looking at the crisp shipping label.  The ornate, modern label of whichever company sat up in the corner, noting his own address below, but only using the words “Current Resident” as the recipient.

Moving to the top of the long box, Ryan attempted to lift the end up, only to immediately be stopped the the thing’s massive weight.  Pushing his bare feet into the cold concrete, Ryan shunted the box against the ground, slamming into the jamb of the propped open door.  Something inside the box shifted uneasily.  With the short end of the crate now aligned to the door, Ryan found himself able to shove it forwards and into the entry way.  The cardboard grated against the hard floor, skating across the dust and dirt from countless shoes passing over.

The box was glued shut around the edges, and bound tightly with hard plastic straps.  Ryan’s feet eagerly took him to the kitchen and back, stopping to grab a steak knife from the jumble of silverware in the drawer.  The straps snapped off simply enough with a twist of the serrated blade, sending the ends to clack down on the floor.  Starting at the bottom corner, Ryan stabbed the blade through the layers of cardboard, straight down.  After much furious sawing and bits of cardboard starting to fray all over the floor and into the air, the side of the box toppled over.  Ripping what little remained from the top and the bottom of the box, Ryan folded the top of the cardboard over.  Inside sat a human-like figure, wrapped in a dainty layer of foam.  Behind the pale material, a pair of eyes looked back at him, though not entirely human-like.

With a quick swipe, his fingers dug into the material and pulled it aside, snapping and pulling the long strips of tape holding the material together.  The eyes of the thing suddenly shifted awake, turning slowly to Ryan.  Surprised, the your man toppled back, shoving the knife to the side.  With a snapping of more tape, the thing sat up; something the shape of the small human, fitted with strange mechanical joints and metallic skin.

“Greetings, young human.”  I spoke in a near emotionless voice.  “Are you my new owner?”

“Bro…”  Ryan muttered.  “Are you like… a robot?”

“Bro…”  The thing repeated.  “Is that what you wish for me to be called?”

“I don’t know if my mom will let me keep you…”  Ryan pondered, looking back to the door.

“I am fully prepared to be self-sustaining, if not more.”  The thing stood up quickly, turning around to asses the cardboard cocoon from which it had just exited.  Ryan sat in awe while the machine-like human quickly gathered up the mess, depositing the entirety of the box and its contents into a small ball.

“Bro…robot… BroBot.”

“And your name is?”  The bot quickly made eye contact with Ryan.

Ten Years Later

“This is way out there.”  Ryan exclaimed, leaned towards the TV intently as images of scantily-clad woman danced upon the backdrop of revving muscle cars.

“Ryan, my parental guidelines suggest this is not appropriate yet for your age.” BroBot warned.

“You’d get it if you had junk, BroBot.” Ryan continued staring at the screen.

“Junk?”  BroBot queried.  “Ah yes, a penis and testicles, like you had said, Ryan.”

“How long until mom comes home?”  Ryan glanced nervously at the window by the door, looking out at the empty street outside the house.

“According to trends, she could be home anywhere from 15 minutes from now to 2 and one half hours.”  The robot turned back to the TV, eyes studying the imagery.  Suggestive music of female vocalizations played through the speakers.

“Think I could ever get a girl that looked like that, BB?”  Ryan studied one of the dancers, now starting to fade from the screen.

“In Statistical, Physiological, or Sociological terms, Ryan?”

“Never mind.  That’d never happen.”  Ryan scooped up the remote and begun flipping through the channels.  “All I do is hang out with a robot.  If only you were a chick robot.”

“I technically have no sex, Ryan.  I am neither a chick nor a… dude.”  Brobot explained.  “I simply use a masculine voice to emulate yours, being the first one I came into contact with.”

“But… you could talk like a girl if you wanted to, right?”

“That’s correct, Ryan, sweetie.”  BroBot modulated, using the same voice as Ryan’s mother.”

“Maybe less like mom.”  The teen rolled his eyes.  “Try like Chrissi Jennings from the one TV show.”

“Like this?”  Brobot vocalized in the sweet, valley girl tone.

“That’s… kind of hot.”  Ryan leaned back, switching off the TV.  “Can… we head to my room for a bit?”


Using an intricate set of sheets, pillows, a clean sock, and a generous amount of tape, Ryan had constructed a device atop the robot, who laid, covered up, atop Ryan’s bed.

“This is kind of kinky.”

“What do you wish me to do, Ryan?”  Brobot asked, still in the young lady’s voice.

“Just, like… moan.”  Ryan pondered.  “Just like the song in that commercial.”

“Oh?”  The robot attempted, unsure.

“Thats’… good enough.”  Ryan unzipped his fly, picking up the comforter from the floor before jumping atop the bed.  “Maybe move a bit.”  Ryan suggested, before carefully aligning himself.  His body shook, but a wave of ecstasy washed over him, pushing out the feeling of shame.  The robot made awkward moans, hips jolting… robotically.  The scotch tape rustled and groaned as Ryan shook his wavering hips, zipper occasionally brushing against him harshly.

“I believe the tape is coming undone, Ryan.”  The femininely-voiced robot warned.

“Just… a little bit… more.”  The teen breathed heavily, the comforter threatening to fall on the ground.  Behind him, the door creaked suddenly.

“Ryan?”  His mother’s voice called out.  “What are you two doing?”   She asked judgmentally.  With a clunk, Ryan quickly panicked and fell from atop the small single bed, slapping the back of his head upon the ground, and quickly covering himself up with the bed cover.

“Hello, Sally.”  BroBot voiced, still in the modulated voice.  Playing a sound to simulating the clearing of his voice, the robot repeated the statement, in his regular voice.  “I mean, Hello, Sally.”