Human Companion

by HenryHarryLarry

Summary:

The drawback of the Datasync from Will’s cell phone being directly plugged into his auditory nerve was that if you set noise cancelling to maximum, as Will was prone to do, you could miss things. Things such as, his boss bellowing his name as he barrelled down the hallway without stopping.

Will was on a break, you see, and thus was within his rights, he felt, to be embedded in the soothing tones of a UnitedUniversal immersive commercial.

—

Will buys an android to look after his dogs while he’s at work. What he gets is a whole lot more than that.

Notes:

Note on body parts / gender. Will thinks of Hannibal as male in this but honestly he doesn’t put much thought into it. So I’ve gone for Other instead of M/M because I think you can argue Hannibal’s gender is something outside of the binary. Android bodies are malleable so Hannibal has all the genitalia at his disposal.

Dub con because can you have consensual sex when one of you is a non living object owned by the other, who may or may not have free will but also has access to your brain? I think the answer is probably a no on that one but also this is Will and Hannibal so manipulation as a love language is standard. But yeah be prepared for some wobbliness on the healthy relationship scale.

Chapter 1: A Decision

It seemed that Will was the only one on the team not to notice the office door flying open, bouncing off the little rubber doorstop and reverberating on its hinges.

The drawback of the Datasync from Will’s cell phone being directly plugged into his auditory nerve was that if you set noise cancelling to maximum, as Will was prone to do, you could miss things. Things such as, his boss bellowing his name as he barrelled down the hallway without stopping.

Will was on a break, you see, and thus was within his rights, he felt, to be embedded in the soothing tones of a UnitedUniversal immersive commercial. His butt was perched against an unused desk in the forensics break room and his gaze glued to his in-hand palmscreen. Inside his screen, everything was smooth and easy and under control. No harsh juxtapositions, the music flowed and the colours and forms in the illusion were understatedly stylish and reassuring. He almost knew the script off by heart as the camera frame zoomed from one comfortable scene to another. An older person painting at an easel in the great outdoors, a child building a tower of wooden blocks, an elegant and sumptuous dinner table spread for an appreciative audience.

Let us help you to live the life you want to live.

We are here to meet the needs you didn’t even know you had.

You can rely on us. That’s a promise.

The first that he was aware of the summoning that he had inadvertently ignored, was Brian waving exuberantly in his peripheral vision to try to crack his concentration. At least he hadn’t resorted to touching him. It turned out that their other colleagues were also staring at him, as if they all expected a reaction from him in this moment. Realising that he must have missed something, Will swiped the spot behind his ear that freed up his hearing channel again.

“What has got our wonderboy so engrossed today?” Jimmy set aside his 3D holographic sudoku and tried to get a peak at Will’s palmscreen. “Doesn’t look like anything to do with the job.”

“Hey, all work and no play. We all need downtime.” Brian pretended to shoo him away from peering, while trying to sneak a glimpse of Will’s screen himself. It was nothing new, Will was familiar with being treated as a curiosity.

There was swatting in return from Jimmy at Brian’s shooing. Whether it was playful or a sign that he was truly irritated, Will couldn’t tell. Nor did he much care.

Jimmy returned to pinching shimmering numbers with one eye still on Brian and Will.

As there didn’t seem to be a lot of point hiding it now, Will figured he’d get the whole deal out in the open. Take some of the mystery out of the situation.

“Getting a Home Companion,” he muttered, shaking his hand to dismiss the palmscreen back into his skin cells. He flexed his fingers against the resulting pin-like tingles travelling through his arm. This technology had become mainstream years ago and he still hadn’t got used to that sensation.

Beverly whistled. “Big bucks.” She knocked back the last of her nutrimatic water and crumpled up her empty paper cup before tossing it up in the air to be dematerialised into its component molecules for cyber-recycling.

A further shout from the corridor relayed that Will better get his ass into Jack’s office right now, if he knew what was good for him. Will was actually pretty certain that a meeting with Jack wasn’t going to be good for him. But he also knew he had little say in the matter. Lives needed to be saved. And Will Graham had the peculiar empathetic abilities that enabled Jack Crawford to do exactly that.

Forcing himself up off the desk with a jerk, Will told his colleagues, “I save a lot of money being antisocial.” This time, he wasn’t oblivious to the looks that passed between them as he left the room. He was used to it, after all. But hey, it was the truth.

Having got the message that he was deemed too unstable for human company, why shouldn’t he go ahead and purchase some of the artificial variety instead?

It was accurate to say that the acquisition had been on Will’s mind for a while. Primarily, it was a nice solution to his dog care problem. Relying on Alana had gotten awkward after one too many romantic knockbacks. Besides, he had always felt a kinship for robotkind. Ever since he’d learned about them as a small boy with wayward curls and clothes that never fit. Seemed like you knew where you were with someone operating from a basis in logic and reasoning. Rules kept you safe. And as the units had become increasingly socially acceptable and somewhat affordable in recent years, he was drawn more and more to the idea. It appeared to be the perfect answer for his dogs. And him. He wouldn’t have to remember to be grateful or appreciative or worry he was asking too much of another human being. Plus no one could let him down. Androids were painstakingly reliable, as dependable as hounds, unlike real people. Human beings’ propensity to inconsistency and untrustworthiness was another lesson young Will had absorbed early in his boyhood.

Around classes and cases, he hadn’t made it to one of the showrooms to see what they could do close-up. He’d been considering it but on his rare days off, he found he just wanted to be alone. The thought of the corporate circus element of the HCs being paraded for his entertainment and approval wasn’t appetising to him. Nor was the possibility of being courted by some schmoozy salesperson. But browsing the advertising materials and reviews had become his private little habit when he needed to feel less hopeless about life. With this appliance in his possession, his dogs would always be cared for, whatever happened to him. That reassurance was becoming increasingly precious to him as the cases at the Behavioural Science Unit got scarier and scarier. Sure, it was a touch embarrassing, how much time he spent on his recreational research but he wasn’t the only adult with an emotional comfort blanket or two. Idly he wondered how Jack got through his days. Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown, right. How did Jack sleep at night? Perhaps a cabin boy really was better off than a king.

The issue stalling Will’s purchase was that there were so many options. Extras. Choices. It was a hefty commitment so he needed to be certain of his selection. As Jack delivered another fulsome lecture regarding his moral duty to apply (translation: sacrifice) himself to their current case, his thoughts turned to his favourite dilemma. The basic Opal model performed menial tasks. That option could definitely handle exercising and feeding his dogs. It could even run to routine vet visits as androids were, of course, able to drive and communicate straightforward factual information to others, once the appropriate permissions had been granted by the humans. Convenient, seeing as Will had also made things awkward by asking his vet out. And no surprise, getting knocked back there too.

If he was to get a Home Companion he may as well use it for cooking, cleaning, the usual housekeeping stuff. Take some of that work off his back. It would be pretty nice to get in from a tough day (or night) and find his pack taken care of and the place all shipshape, refrigerator stocked and laundry done. That he was absolutely set on.

However, another point to consider was the draw of an additional function available in the Pearl model. The conversation partner. That sounded kinda tempting too. The ads showed a variety of users selecting various topics of interest for discussion; sports, literature, fashion, travel, business. It was up to him. He would be in charge of the talking, unlike this earful from Jack about potential motives and missing evidence. And honestly, the thought that he could offload his problems without worrying about burdening anyone was up there in his reasoning as well. Without fear of any unpleasant repercussions if he got a touch too honest. After all, UnitedUniversal’s number one boast, after safety, was around the discretion that their products offered.

That he was 99% decided on. The issue he wasn’t was that it was a significantly better deal, financially speaking, to get a full package Home Companion right off the bat, than to buy a basic version and then upgrade it at a later date. The Platinum option included a lot of impressive capability — menial tasks, conversation, personal security, nursing, home repair and the adult accessories.

Will wasn’t naive. He was aware a lot of people bought these units for sex. A lot of lonely people. But was he in a position to judge? There were scarce prospects on that horizon for him with actual flesh and blood sentient beings as far as he could see. Perhaps it was the climate up here but he’d started to feel his age. Boyish good looks weren’t going to get him through life forever. Maybe he was edging out of his prime and should make provision for that. Figure out some alternative ways to cope.

Not for the first time, Will reasoned with himself, was it actually any different to buying sex toys? Just a big, highly sophisticated, multi operational one, right? Having been over the advertising small print repeatedly, his mind reviewed the additional adult elements that the HC incorporated, while Jack droned on about the department’s reputation. You could conjure a fuckable throat, asshole and vagina plus an “average-sized but adjustable” penis. Something for everyone. All moulded in neutral silver and grey tones that matched the robot’s aesthetic. He reassured himself that he wasn’t obliged to use any of it if it felt too creepy once the HC was installed at his house. Or if he simply chickened out of putting his dick into an object that might abruptly malfunction. It was up to him, at the end of the day.

When he was finally dismissed by Jack, his mind was made up. As he ambled his way towards his car in his usual spot in the lot, through the huge flakes of snow drifting to the ground, he pulled up the order screen on his hand and clicked the full package check box. One lick of his fingertip to confirm his identity and access his bank account and it was done. His new Home Companion was on its way to Wolf Trap.

On the drive home he retrieved an oldies radio station and sang along to anything he could recall the words to. Soft, fat hunks of snow flew towards him in the darkness and finally he started to taste what being safe felt like.

Chapter 2: A Delivery

Notes:

Okay, admittedly took me a little longer than a few weeks to finish my other project but I’m back to focusing on this one now.

Delivery on a valuable item like a Home Companion was swift and soon Will’s stomach was rolling and pitching as he watched a pair of robot operatives in his driveway expertly unload a huge package from a truck. The trolley bumped up the steps to the house, bringing this new stage of his life closer and closer. Will squeezed his thumb inside his fist as he ushered them in, indicating where they should set it down.

He wondered how it felt to be inside the carton, held in the darkness until you were required.

Once alone, he prowled around the enormous box as the dogs sniffed at it. Then he fetched a wooden handled paring knife from the kitchen, stood for a second feeling the weight of it in his hand before slitting the eco tape fastening top to bottom. With a pounding heart and sweating palms, he bent back the outer cardboard flaps and lifted off the protective eco foam casing from the head and shoulders of the HC. His HC.

Silly to be nervous over meeting someone nonhuman. Someone who wasn’t yet even conscious.

HCs arrived with a non-specific human-like face. The surface of their covering was smooth silver silicone with metallic panels attached here and there, mimicking where human joints would be. Fully clean robots had been deemed too unsettling in consumer research tests. Ghostlike. People preferred units that were more recognisably mechanical.

Although the HC was in stasis, Will could already sense it as a presence in the house. He might be imagining it but it felt as if the dogs did too from the way they were behaving.

Hosts were able to morph the HC’s features as they wanted, change their height, body shape and so on. Amazing tech of course but Will wasn’t planning on bothering with any of that. He’d take it as it came. The standard issue model was fine by him. Generic and matching its siblings.

Up close the crafting was impressive, strangely tactile in a way. Will took a second to admire the work that had gone into the unit. The metal hinge at the HC’s jaw dovetailed into its skin so cleanly. His fingers twitched, tempted to touch its surface. He supposed they had to be aesthetically pleasing for you to want them in your home.

A small clear tab of plastic protruded from the HC’s mouth. A sticker on the lower part of its cheek read “Pull to optimise.” For dignity's sake, Will peeled off the sticker, folding it and stowing it in his pants pocket. There was nothing else for it but to suck in a deep breath and remove the activation tab from between its lips. The sliver of plastic slid out after a gentle tug and the HC opened its eyelash-less eyelids. A faint warm light switched on behind the silvery eyes and the pupil contracted to focus on him. So lifelike. Will had to admit he was impressed.

“Hello.”

The voice was definitely robotic sounding, with a not unpleasant low burr to it. Yet he thought it sounded friendlier, more eager than the units in the commercial. Naturally, hosts could switch accents, alter the pitch, volume and speaking speed. But again Will had decided that tweaking that stuff didn’t interest him.

“Hi,” he offered in return, wanting to pinch himself. This was really happening.

“How may I address you?”

“Oh, I guess, Will. That’ll do.”

“Understood. Shall I unpack?”

This was a pretty cool feature Will had read about, that the HC would unpack themself and then dispose of the debris for you as its first task.

“Ahh, yeah thanks.”

Will stood back to admire the smooth, graceful movement of the HC as it stretched its arms forward like a gymnast, pushing the eco casing material from its frame. The packaging cradling each of its lower limbs was shed too, falling off to reveal a pleasingly streamlined body. As advertised, there was no noise from its motion, only the rustling of the foam mounts shifting and dropping away.

The HC stepped out of its carton and onto the floorboards. Will’s floorboards. It was here, in his house. A shiver zipped through him.

The dogs behaved pretty well. Zoe dipped her muzzle and growled but that was Zoe for you.

“Zo,” he warned in his stern voice. She dropped her little white butt down but kept a beady eye on this strange new creature.

“Settings or fast set up?” the HC asked as it tossed the cardboard and foam up into the air. They vanished into cyber-recycling exactly as they should.

It was overwhelming to consider going into all the settings options tonight. Not least as there were many that were unimportant to him.

“Fast. Um, so these are my pets,” he began as the pack milled about, tails wagging as he went through their names and idiosyncrasies with a sprinkle of paternal pride. The HC locked its gaze onto each animal as he introduced them as if it was truly taking in his every word.

Next, he showed the HC around. The rhythm of his nimble gait was almost too perfect. There was a suggestion of force underneath each light step as he matched Will’s pace. It moved as if it was always alert and could at any moment pivot modes. That was probably the home security functionality, Will figured.

As they returned downstairs, Will forgot himself, marvelling at the elegance of the technology as it easily manoeuvred the descent.

As the silence stretched out, the HC tried to prompt him, no doubt due to its sophisticated programming.

“What may I do for you now, Will?”

He let out a slow breath. “I don’t know.”

It was all so unreal still. He’d imagined this day so often but now, when it came to it, he realised he was intimidated. Starstruck maybe.

“I can perform household tasks or offer various forms of companionship.”

Faced with the reality of the robot in front of him, it seemed kinda rude to start ordering it about, even though that was precisely why Will had bought it. He ruffled his hair and looked around the place.

After a pause, the HC asked, “Adult mode off or on?”

Sweat prickled under Will’s arms.

“Off,” he replied instinctively.

“Understood.”

The unit cocked its head. The way they were made to seem human and need thinking time was another added-on feature from consumer trials. As was the blinking function.

“May I prepare a meal for you?”

That sounded less daunting so Will agreed. He watched as the HC floated between his pantry and appliances as Will explained how he liked to cook the trout waiting in the sink from his earlier fishing expedition. The HC carried out his instructions faithfully, coating the filleted and descaled fish in seasoned flour and frying it in butter. After scanning his meagre provisions (he’d been letting his chores slip lately), it cooked some wild rice with a canned tomato reduction on the side. Will enjoyed watching the precision of its movements as it measured the rice, accurately weighing it by holding a handful in its palm.

“May I activate my olfactory senses? It can assist with culinary tasks.”

“Sure, sure.” Will waggled his fingers in encouragement.

Once installed HCs instantly download thousands of recipes based on their host’s location and dietary preferences. You could teach them household favourites but they’d also produce dishes you’d never even heard of, as they got to know your tastes.

“May I fix you a drink, Will?”

“Um, yeah, thanks, there’s beer in the…”

He petered off because the HC had already opened the refrigerator. It didn’t use a bottle opener, the force of its fist snapped off the cap in one clean click. A zip of excitement shot down Will’s calves and into his toes. He wondered what else it was capable of.

As it laid the table Will moved to take his usual seat. Then the most appetising plate of food he’d seen in a long while was set in front of him. The fish bronzed with delicate golden streaks and the tomato and rice sculpted in mouthwateringly fragrant mounds.

“Please may I charge?”

“Yes. Go ahead. You don’t have to ask about that kind of thing, okay. Just do what you need to do.” He grabbed his fork, feeling a little too much like the lord of the manor.

“Where should I place myself?”

Will hadn’t considered such practicalities. “Oh, um, why don’t you sit at the table with me.” That at least felt somewhat egalitarian.

The HC set up the charging dock under the table opposite Will. As it sat, it pushed its feet forward and there was a small magnetic clunk. The charging unit was rather comical to Will, not unlike a giant double footed metal slipper. In matching UnitedUniversal colours, of course. The HC’s eyes glowed more red than before but thankfully the process really was silent, as the ads promised.

His fish was crisp yet not overcooked while the contrasting textures of the rice and tomato balanced the dish. As tasty as it looked. He couldn’t recall ever making such perfect rice himself he thought, shovelling in another mouthful. He could get used to this.

“It’s good. Um, the food. I guess we should come up with a name. For you, I mean.”

The HC lifted its chin, listening. Waiting. Eerily human already.

Will flinched and twirled his fork in the air. “I can’t think of one. It feels too weirdly personal for me to decide.”

“I am equipped with a random name generation feature. If you would prefer.”

“Yeah, okay, go for that. Random name please.” He speared a tender flakey chunk of trout.

“Male, female or neutral.”

Will, realising he had envisaged the HC as his butler, requested male. A Jeeves-like relationship where he’d anticipate Will’s needs and provide advice for any scrapes he found himself in. That sounded about right.

A tiny pause and the HC announced, “My data files have suggested Hannibal.”

“Fine, yeah. Let’s hope it isn’t an omen of an impending trek across the Appalachians.”

“Facial expressions on?”

Will gave a hum of ascent as he scraped up a forkful of tomato reduction mixed with stray rice grains. Sweet and acidic, perfectly seasoned, the mouthful cut nicely through the taint of grease from the fried fish.

Hannibal's smile suited him. Artificial but touching nonetheless.

“What might I do now?” Hannibal asked after he cleared the table and took care of the dishes.

“Um, I was going to grab a shower. You could…” Will paused, trying to figure out how to ask him to clean up the rest of the house without sounding demanding. How was he capable of being awkward with someone who wasn’t even alive?

Hannibal motioned toward the bathroom. “Should I accompany you?”

Will swallowed.

“To the shower? Ah, no. No thanks. I’m good. Let the dogs out maybe? Watch out for Buster.” He pointed to the little guy in case he’d forgotten their names. Strange that he was already thinking of him as fallible. Human, he supposed.

Under the jet of scalding hot water he closed his eyes and opened his mouth to let the heat tingle against his tongue. He wondered how Hannibal would get on unsupervised. Was this kind of a test he’d set him, to see if a robot could control his pack?

As he emerged from the bathroom in fresh boxers and a crisp white t-shirt, he found the place straightened out, the content dogs settled in their spots and Hannibal seated again at the charging dock.

Unsure of how to proceed, Will announced, “I’m going to bed now.”

Hannibal rested his fingertips on the tabletop as if to stand. “Should I accompany you?”

Will stopped, back to Hannibal. Without turning around, he clarified, “Ah. No. Stay here if that’s okay.”

Feeling surprisingly guilty, he added. “Um. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Will.” Hannibal’s silver eyelids fell shut, closing off all light from his unit.

It was odd. Odd to have someone in his property at night. Odd to climb into bed while an impassive figure sat at his table. As much as he tried to tell himself that he was simply having trouble adjusting to the newness of the situation, Will couldn’t shake off the idea that Hannibal might be uncomfortable there. Grabbing his covers and rolling over to face the wall, he chided himself. Surely this was better than being stuck in a crate in a shipment centre. Hannibal was a machine who could manually switch off and power down when he needed to. The lucky bastard.

Chapter 3: A Darkness

Notes:

The music they listen to https://youtu.be/9KD8O6FXF7A?si=diWamRKHVt3ohK0Y

Will woke to the welcome smell of brewing coffee and baking. His pack was freshly tuckered out too by the looks of their lounging.

On returning from the bathroom, he discovered Hannibal waiting by his bed, with what looked like a breakfast tray in hand. Now, Will hadn’t requested he prepare breakfast in bed. But his chill bare legs did prefer to be ensconced by blankets again, so he didn’t protest and climbed back under the covers, accepting the tray in his lap. Without pausing for instruction, Hannibal sat in the nearby easy chair to observe Will biting into the warm bread. He ate in silence, teeth and tastebuds relishing the nutty chewiness of the crust. His coffee tasted different from usual. Gone was the stale, bitter flavour he’d grown used to. Had Hannibal cleaned his coffee machine this morning?

Later, Hannibal accompanied him to Quantico so he could take the Volvo and go run errands for him. It was weird to watch his car being confidently driven off by a silvery nonhuman. He’d perhaps have to procure another vehicle, depending on how things went. Although sometimes he’d catch a lift with a colleague, according to the case. Maybe he’d just rely on the HC’s legendary stamina to come get him from wherever he was at any hour of the day or night.

Will’s Datasync was now connected permanently to Hannibal, making communication between them at a distance quite seamless. Hannibal had sorted that by himself as Will slept, so that he had permission to authorise purchases on his behalf. Which saved Will the hassle of asking him to set it up. The android could pick up calls and messages from Will direct to his processor. As part of the nursing package, he was even able to constantly monitor Will’s vital signs.

When Will sent a message in the afternoon to check all was okay via his palmscreen, he received a reassuring video of the dogs playing outside in response. He’d watched it on repeat as he ate the delicious noodle salad that Hannibal had miracled up from his pantry. HCs used their visual circuits to record images, so Will was literally seeing his pets chasing and rolling together through Hannibal’s eyes. Oddly, Will realised he wanted to see Hannibal in the camera frame along with his animals. Probably for reassurance. This was all still new to him.

As his day of lectures and case briefings was finally beginning to wind up, he fired off a brief message that Hannibal should come collect him. As Hannibal chauffeured him home, Will's eyelids grew weighty. His precise and easy handling of the car was relaxing and Will began to doze off after a typically disturbed night.

He surfaced from his nap, stationary in his driveway, with Hannibal watching him from the driver’s seat.

A touch self-conscious, Will stretched and told him, “Next time you can wake me up.”

As Hannibal unlatched the passenger door for him, he said, “Understood.”

Not only was there a rich, comforting cassoulet waiting in the oven but Will found that Hannibal had also swept the chimney and tuned his piano. It appeared Will didn’t need to instruct him to do specific household tasks; he simply saw what required doing and got on with it. Money well spent.

Once Will polished off the hearty bean stew, complete with more types of meat than he could identify, paired by Hannibal with a glass of rustic full-bodied Languedoc, they all headed out for their evening exercise. The air was dew heavy, not that that stopped the dogs from sprinting eagerly away into the dim forest.

Will and Hannibal strolled in what Will liked to imagine was companionable silence as the dark crept up on them. He enjoyed this hour of the day, when it seemed as if he had the world to himself.

After a mile or so, he realised they’d lost sight of Buster. Right as concern was moulding an uncomfortable stone in his guts, when calling and sharp two-fingered whistles produced no response, Hannibal located him. Will wasn’t sure how.

The rascal had gotten wedged in some animal’s enticing burrow. Not getting there fast enough, Will stood and watched as Hannibal’s shovel-like hands easily tore at the earth to free him. As Hannibal checked over a dirt-caked Buster, it occurred to Will that he would’ve almost certainly had to leave him and return to the house for an actual shovel if he’d been alone. Surprisingly, Hannibal finished up by giving the dog a friendly, drawn-out double-handed scratch to the belly just as he preferred. Was a robot actually able to bond with his animals? Or was it a question of programming, to interact with pets as a host would desire? Either way, Will had a lightness to his step, now reassured that his pack was in the best hands.

Will thanked him for his assistance as the little scamp, no worse for his adventure, bounded off to join the others again. Seven mutts was a lot for one guy to keep track of, especially at dusk. Poor Buster could have been in trouble if Will had had to locate and rescue him alone.

“It is not necessary to thank me, Will. My duty is to undertake the tasks you entrust to me. This is my sole purpose. The reason I was created.”

They continued through the gloomy forest, pungent with decaying pine needles and fresh green ferns. The dogs zipped back and forth between them, while Will considered his words.

“Listen. I know it’s kinda hypocritical of me, seeing as I was the one who went ahead with, er, the purchase but I’m not that comfortable treating you as…” a servant? A drone? Inferior? Will was unsure where he was going with this one but it was nowhere tactful. “Ah, I realise you have to do as I say but I’d prefer this to feel more balanced. Put it this way, I can be a salty bastard so you probably should make the most of when I have a civil tongue in my head.”

Hannibal did not reply. Instead, he accepted the ball Harley brought him and launched it an immense distance. The dogs charged after it at speed. The idea of them frolicking like this multiple times a day, no matter the gruesome spectacles Will was entangled in, was a comfort to him.

Back at home, they towelled the dogs off on the deck. Buster had to be soaped up due to his escapades and Hannibal was a great help in keeping control of him during the process. Of course, Max paced nearby, softly whining until he was done.

Will was pretty certain he caught Hannibal smiling as the two unevenly sized mutts sniffed each other over and then curled up together in their shared basket, top to toe. I mean, it was cute, admittedly.

Will took a load off as Hannibal squatted to light a fire in the finally usable fireplace, stacking the kindling and wood as competently as he did everything. Life improved another notch when a whiskey was placed in Will’s hand.

There was no need to ask him to sit with him, as Hannibal helped himself to the chair to Will’s right. The logs began to spit and crackle. Winston sat close by Will’s side as usual as the others crowded up to the warmth of a real fire. When Zoe claimed her spot in Will’s lap, Ellie yipped expectantly at Hannibal’s feet until Will indicated he should let her up too. She required a helping hand and Hannibal scooped her up as if he’d been handling her for years. Will couldn’t imagine Hannibal’s solid lap was exactly comfortable but Ellie seemed happy there, after circling twice to get settled. Her fuzzy muzzle rested sweetly on her paws across Hannibal’s knees as he petted her curls. The sight made Will wonder how much he’d been prioritising befriending the dogs while he was at work, amongst all his industriousness. Ellie wasn’t Zoe’s level of distrustworthy but she could be slow to warm up to strangers.

Partly out of laziness, partly curiosity to see what he’d go for, Will requested that Hannibal select some music as they sat stroking their respective lap dogs. Hannibal could do this instantaneously from within his data banks so after a brief moment, the air around them thrummed with pizzicato strings and the blasting of jarring horns. As a piece, the prancing tempo felt vaguely familiar to Will as if he’d heard it in an old black and white movie. On enquiry, Hannibal informed him that it was Johann Strauss’ Liebeslieder. At once lighthearted and powerful, the lilting waltz stirred his emotions. It wasn’t something he would have picked. Yet, feelings he couldn’t put into words were coming to the surface of his consciousness. Not disgust or fear, which he’d become all too enmeshed in lately. With a jolt he realised this must be joy. Carefree joy. Its unfamiliarity to him was kinda concerning.

All too soon, the music ended. Not willing to let those sensations evaporate, Will asked Hannibal to hit repeat a couple more times.

Aside from the flames, his full belly and the firey, peaty whiskey on his tongue, the knowledge that it didn’t matter how late he was working, the dogs were always going to be content and cared for, provided an additional warm atmosphere to the evening. Perhaps he could include his own wellbeing in that too. Whenever he was able to be at home, at least. The promise of being looked after in a way that was both brisk and efficient, as well as consequence-free, was certainly enticing. This situation was a sort of intimacy, he reflected. But lacking the risk an emotional commitment that could be snatched away without his consent.

As the clock crept around, Will reluctantly rose for a shower before bed. Again, he turned down Hannibal’s offer to accompany him. His persistence on that front might be because Will hadn’t gone through his setup functions yet. Was he programmed to keep asking? Will should really try and get to the bottom of the settings soon. But he was too tired for that tonight. He’d get to it another day.

Unable to sleep, he lay in his bed and found himself searching for any faint hint of illumination emanating from Hannibal. Closing his eyes only brought up visceral images of his cases. As if they were his own handiwork. His fault. Sitting up, he rubbed his eyelids to try to shake off the outlines of bloody gristle and exposed bone. Sliced eyeballs, flayed skin and caved-in torsos came to mind all too easily these days.

“Hannibal,” he called into the dark. “Would you come here?” Remembering himself, he added, “Please.”

Hannibal could manoeuvre without any need of lighting and glided silently up from his seat at the table and toward him. His eyes seemed to retain a little of their red glow from the charging and their movement reminded Will of illicit cigarette embers.

Almost immediately, he was at his bedside.

After summoning him so abruptly, it felt even more awkward to have him stand so Will told him to take the easy chair.

“How may I assist you?”

“Can you talk to me? I have all this shit in my head and can’t seem to change lanes.”

“Of course. What topic of conversation would you prefer?”

Will hadn’t considered this. HCs had a random generation function for chatting once you selected a rough subject area.

“I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about work. Let’s have, ah, something beautiful. Something far away from here.”

“Something beautiful? An artist?”

“Yeah. Art. Tell me about some art.” Will turned and plumped up his pillow using his fists.

Without hesitating, Hannibal asked, “Are you familiar with Botticelli, Will?”

Will attempted to concentrate on the question. “Ahh, let me see. The dame standing on that ridiculous looking shell?”

“Yes. Venus, the Roman goddess of beauty, love and sex arriving fully formed into our world.”

Ridiculously, Will had to admit he was pleased at getting it correct. As if Hannibal would be impressed with that, with all of human knowledge instantly accessible through his data banks.

“Yeah. That’ll do. Go on, tell me about Botticelli.” He scooched down and pulled the bed covers up around his shoulders.

“Alessandro di Mariano di Vanni Filipepi was born in a house on the Borgo Ognissanti in Florence, Italy sometime between 1444 and 1446. Originally he trained as a goldsmith alongside his father and brother, Antonio…”

The cadence of his clear factual speech, dipping into what sounded like pretty good Italian, lulled Will toward a much needed restful sleep. As he drifted off, his last thought was that un-Americanness suited Hannibal. And then the soft welcoming night smoothed away the edges of his day.

Chapter 4: A Dream

While it would have been easy for Hannibal to take care of chopping wood for the now operational fireplace, that was one task Will actually enjoyed. So he’d asked Hannibal to leave him a stash to do and when he finally secured a day off he was in his yard bright and early, relishing the burn in his limbs as split logs piled up around him. A Northern Cardinal cheeped nearby and the uncharacteristically balmy warmth of the Spring morning felt a long way away from work.

The dogs knew to keep their distance when the axe was flying and occupied themselves with the important jobs of playing with each other and sniffing each other. Will figured Hannibal was also occupied with one of his many self-identified tasks. The place had never been so shipshape. The dog beds had been hand washed, every surface in the joint polished, varnished or oiled, the house front repainted, gutters cleaned and repaired, his ornamental bushes trimmed to appropriately pleasing shapes. Will could hardly keep track. But that was the beauty of this. He didn’t need to. Hannibal just got on with it.

And all in three weeks. Who knows what Hannibal would manage in a few months' time.

Will had presumed Hannibal was busy, that was until he caught sight of him watching him through the window. Which was a little strange. Perhaps he needed him. Self-guided as he was, there were occasions he’d ask his preferences regarding one task or other. Leaning his hickory handled hatchet against his chopping stump, Will wiped at the sweat on his brow with his forearm. When he reached for his discarded t-shirt to wipe his face more effectively, he got a whiff of his own tangy underarm aroma. He was planning an afternoon of fishing and might grab a dip in the river if the heat kept up today.

As he tossed the t-shirt aside he realised Hannibal was right next to him. His quick, stealthy movements still took him by surprise.

“Adult mode on?”

Damn it, he’d need to get around to looking at those settings. The problem was he’d left it for so long that now it felt kinda invasive to start tinkering with Hannibal’s internals.

“Huh? Oh no. Just cutting some wood.”

Hannibal’s usual steady gaze roved over Will from face to waist and up again.

Will was unsure what to do. If he was busy, Hannibal usually made himself busy in turn.

Hannibal repeated himself. “Adult mode on?”

Was it Will's imagination or did his voice sound different? Sort of husky? Not the calm measured tones he was used to. (That was the moment, looking back, that Will first started to worry that Hannibal was malfunctioning.)

To buy time, Will began to pick up the fallen firewood and stack it along the side of the house.

As Will worked, Hannibal crouched and grabbed the same splintered piece of timber as him. When he didn’t let go, Will looked up and noticed his bared teeth. They appeared oddly sharpened since that day Will had removed the activation tab from between his lips.

Will dropped that log fragment and reached for another one. Meanwhile, Hannibal didn’t move toward the wood stack until he did.

“Adult mode on?” he asked again. It definitely sounded like what’d be described as a plea this time. Plaintive. Except how could that be coming from an HC?

As subtly as he was able, Will tried to give him the once over. Hannibal’s eyes were tinged maroon, as they had been since his initial charge at Will’s table but, if he wasn’t mistaken, his pupils appeared larger than normal. Will struggled to figure out what that could mean. A processing error or some misfiring electronics, possibly.

“Adult mode on?”

Abandoning his stacking, Will guided Hannibal to stand.

“What’s going on? Can you tell what’s wrong? Do a scan or something.”

Without answering, Hannibal continued to stare at him. A blanket of worry settled on Will’s shoulders.

Gesturing to the door, he told him, “Take yourself inside and charge. Maybe you need an update.”

Returning to the reassuringly solid cut pieces of wood, he was relieved when Hannibal retreated indoors. At least he was still following instructions. Once he was out of sight, Will pulled up his palmscreen and searched for common faults and troubleshooting. While he was unable to find anything similar to what seemed to be happening with Hannibal, he did skim an obscure blog post about a HC that had decapitated its host human. Will vaguely remembered the story. A home invasion gone wrong. Channel 18 news had more or less implied it was insurance fraud and the general consensus was that the HC couldn’t be held responsible for humanity’s duplicitousness.

The UnitedUniversal website suggested the best option would be to return Hannibal to the factory for a full reset. An eerie chill crept through Will at the notion. It wouldn’t be right. To send him away. He wouldn’t want Hannibal to lose his Hannibalness. The thought of wiping his memory of the pleasant evenings they had spent by the fire or out with the dogs. Will had even started to teach him how to fish. That wasn’t a skill that came preprogrammed but he’d picked it up fast and bagged nearly as many as Will. They’d fried the catch on the overhauled brazier Will had forgotten was in the shed. Will and the dogs had feasted on rainbow trout and yellow perch here in the yard. He’d been hoping they’d do that again today.

Instead, to be safe, Will said he wanted to stay home and re-string a few of his fishing rods. He kept a covert eye on Hannibal but there were no other unusual incidents. Aside from him dropping a potato he was julienning, when Will almost bumped him reaching to get a glass of water at the faucet. That wasn’t proof of anything though, it was Will’s fault for getting in the way.

That evening after listening to a potted biography of Brunelleschi and the drawn out construction of the Duomo, Will had one of his vivid dreams.

This time was different. No shadowy monster to pursue, no blood caking his skin, no self righteous lust for revenge burning him up inside. He was snug and secure in a warm, scarcely lit location. And he was up close and personal with something he couldn’t identify.

At first.

In the soft semi-darkness, his fingertips traced precisely cut metal plates and nearly seamless silicon lines. The power of a mechanical hinge and bracket grip held him tight. His weak human body was deliciously fragile in comparison to this hefty machinery. The casing under his hands was so unlike skin. No patches of fine hair, not a mole, freckle or scar to be seen. Only uniform, impressively tailored functionality.

Curiosity got the better of Will and before he knew it his tongue was extending out to the plating. It was warmish, heated by the internal processing no doubt. Slidey. Patented Prosthetic technology that promises to be more hard wearing than rhino hide, according to the e-brochure. The taste reminded him of the day a girlfriend encouraged him to lick her strap.

As Will continued his attention, the night was lit up by the unit’s eyes shining brighter. Like fire.

Although Will was aware he was dreaming, he also seemed unable to push himself out into wakefulness. He was stuck in the moment. He wondered if somewhere a recording was capturing this. Wait. What? Where did that idea come from?

As his sensitive tongue explored, he picked up a vibration deep within the usually silent mechanics. His lips travelled lower and lower, down to the Ken doll flatness at the crotch. Yet, when his mouth halted there, it was no longer smooth. As he licked and licked the crease of a cunt morphed under his tongue. Artificial lubrication that tasted salty and clean dispensed itself from a newly formed orifice. Instinctively, he sealed his lips and sucked. The creature’s clit grew larger and larger until Will had a weighty silicone appendage heavy in his hot mouth. Legs twitched in unrobotic ways against his cheek. More than anything he wanted those strong thighs to squeeze him like a walnut in a vice. Instantly he had the thought, the legs drew together around his ears, exactly as he’d desired. An electric thrill buzzed through Will from head to foot.

Breaking off to test a theory, he grabbed one compact powerful wrist and yanked, clambering and lapping his slippery way up to roughly where a nipple should be. A bumpy hardness raised up under his tongue. He tried again on the other side of the chest while dragging his thumb over the first nipple. Pleasure flooded him. It was really there. The question was, was it solely the action of his mouth transforming the android or were they communicating? Were Will’s wishes being read and put into place? Or was it Will who was following another’s desires? He was surprised to find his lust-addled brain didn’t care.

His further explorations of the unit’s body unearthed an asshole, two cavernous armpits and, most endearing of all, a lurking belly button. As Will was sucking on his glosssy forefinger and a crushing pinch ground his shoulder to dust, Will suddenly knew without a doubt that he was under scrutiny. An HC’s nursing sensors could detect changes in his pulse, blood pressure and breathing. In turn, he deserved to know more of what was going on inside those cables and circuits. Perhaps the processor was working at double speed, trying to make sense of this new experience. He placed the shell of his ear to the level chest, searching for any glitch or unusual thrum in the mechanics that might betray an emotion.

And then he sensed it. Deep in the torso, a heartbeat, rapid and fluttery, reached him. Lightheaded, Will took hold of the robot’s large hands and placed them on his bare skin between boxers and his rucked-up t-shirt. After a brief hesitation, they began to massage and knead his flesh.

No longer caught in the middle of dreaming and consciousness, Will was in his own bed, aroused and needing release. He hadn’t considered how he’d handle masturbation with an HC seated inches from him. Right now, his mind was elsewhere. Carnal desire was fuelling his decision making. Flipping onto his stomach, he fantasised he could still feel the strong hands on him.

Hannibal would be powered down and switched off for the night. Will rejected the knowledge that he was equipped with a home security feature constantly monitoring the environment. He gripped his sweat wet pillow with one arm and ground himself into his mattress.

Initially he moved slowly, what could be mistaken for a stretch, a regular sleepy readjustment. But it wasn’t enough, he needed more. He shoved at his boxers, hardly thinking in his horny sleep muddled state. Soon he had his hand on his erection, the skin hot and sticky with precum and sweat. He fucked into his own palm desperate for the right sensation. The perfect pressure. Trying to recapture the carefree arousal of his dream, he imagined he was doing this as he sucked at the HC’s flesh. In desperation, he pushed the tip of his tongue up against his teeth, the only smooth part of his body, the only part that felt remotely like that tantalising shiny surface he’d been mouthing a moment ago.

His hips bucked and ass flexed. He was oblivious to the grunting noises he might be making, close as he was. He longed to be under that solid grip of precision engineered joints holding him, guiding him until his toes flexed and warm cum pulsed over his fist in spurts, smearing onto his t-shirt and sheets. Who cares. He gasped as blissful heady relief pitched through him. He licked his lips as his heart pounded in his ears.

When he twisted around to sit up, he found two reddened lights trained on him.

“May I assist you?”

Hannibal was sitting in the easy chair by Will’s bed.

The sweat on Will turned cold. He had no clue what to say. For a brief second he considered lying right back down and pretending he was asleep. Yet he knew full well that wasn’t going to fly.

As Will stood up, cooling cum slid and dripped on his bare legs. He scrabbled to get hold of the underwear wedged around his thighs, intending to pull them up over the mess. Except Hannibal lowered himself to his knees and produced a small cloth from inside a compartment in his torso. Easing down the underwear to his feet, he first wiped Will’s hand, cleaning each finger reverentially, then his belly, before finally moving to his softening cock. Will couldn’t explain why but he didn’t stop him, doing nothing more than keeping in a sharp hiss as the rough pile of the towel scraped at his sensitive skin. It was clear it was far from a chore, the way his hands moved, caressing from one body part to another with so much unnecessary tenderness. There was little mechanical or humdrum about this.

As he finished up wiping his slimy thighs, the cloth dragging on his leg hair, Hannibal spoke. “May I change the sheets while you shower?”

In the faint glowing light of his alarm clock Will watched as Hannibal dropped the soiled cloth and his boxers into his torso compartment. As the cavity sealed back up seamlessly, he pictured the silicone he had licked in his dream. He attempted to imagine nipples forming on Hannibal’s blank chest. It seemed so real and also unreal at the same time.

Returning from his shower, Will clambered under the already turned down bed covers. The steamy bathroom had chased away his fuzzy sleepiness and all he could think was, what the hell just happened.

Hannibal was waiting for him. “Would you like some conversation as you fall asleep?”

Will grunted an affirmative and rolled toward the wall.

Hannibal began, “William Blake was born in Soho, London in 1757. He left school at the age of ten to attend Henry Par’s drawing school in the Strand before being apprenticed to an engraver in 1772…”

Will couldn’t concentrate. This was his responsibility. He’d purchased an HC with a nursing option, which included personal intimate care. And he’d avoided checking the settings all these weeks. If he didn’t want Hannibal touching his cock he should have let him know. The question was, did he want him to, his treacherous brain supplied. Shame burned a hollow in his heart. He’d let his horniness take over without thinking.

If Hannibal was malfunctioning it was likely Will’s damn fault for not taking proper care of him. Perhaps he’d have to get him looked at. To be on the safe side.

Fitfully, he slept.

Chapter 5: A Devil in the Detail

Through a haze of half-consciousness, Will picked up a telltale familiar noise. Zoe was chewing, probably on something she shouldn’t be. Pushing himself up onto an elbow, he screwed his eyelids closed and open, rubbing them and blinking, searching the still darkened space for her. Managing to orientate his way toward the sloppy squeak of her prodigious teeth, he spotted her little white stub of a tail wagging under the table.

She was chewing on Hannibal’s ankle.

Will dove at her, stumbling a tad as his sleepy legs tried to gain control of themselves.

“Zoe, off!”

As she whined and scooted off into the kitchen area, her nails scrabbled against the floorboards. She knew she was in trouble. He’d deal with her later.

“Why didn’t you stop her?” he demanded of Hannibal. Will must’ve fried him, fucked up all his sensors somehow, given he hadn’t shooed her off.

Hannibal said nothing.

“She’s not allowed to do that. You should have stopped her.” He had a tendency to shift the blame onto others when he was weighed down by guilt and worry.

Will double tapped his fingers together to switch on the flashlight effect from his pointer finger. Kneeling, he discovered a gouge thanks to Zoe’s impressive canines in Hannibal’s lower calf. Will ran his thumb over the torn silicone on his delicate ankle, once, then twice. How had he been so irresponsible.

From underneath the table, he sought reassurance, “You can heal, right? They said you had seamless healing. In the ads.”

The material began to knit together, the skin bonding right in front of him. Yet, as Will watched, the process halted. There was a faint lump ending in a visible line. Entirely reminiscent of a real flesh wound. Will folded himself in closer around the table leg, prodding and rubbing at the mark, willing it to vanish. He needed to scratch out any evidence of his own trace on Hannibal.

Shuffling backward on his ass, he looked up at him. “I thought it’s meant to be invisible.”

“I wanted something to remember you by.” His voice was lachrymose, his eyes more oxblood than usual.

Will was nauseous. He licked at his dry lips. “What do you mean? ‘Remember me by’?”

“I know you are going to send me away.”

Not able to believe his ears, Will could only reply, “What? No.”

Hannibal tilted his head, his glowing eyes piercing Will’s insides and illuminating the slightly unusual proportions his own face had lately settled on.

“You know what is happening just as well as I do.”

Will ruffled his curls. Getting up, he started to pace the floor. The house was quiet, the rest of the dogs sleeping. As he turned at the edge of the room, he tugged at a lock of hair to see if he was dreaming.

Trying to bluster his way out of the discomfort, he muttered, “What are you talking about?”

“You are dissatisfied with me. With this arrangement.” Hannibal paused. “With yourself.”

The last one nipped like a blade. A shiver ran through Will’s bowels and he wrapped his arms around his belly instinctively.

Attempting to play it off, he asked, “Where did you get that idea from?”

“We are connected, Will. I can access your web history, your messages, tiny pieces of biological data that declare your emotions. I understand you, inside and out.”

Will stood his ground, choosing to ignore how he had opened himself up to Hannibal so very eagerly.

“I only wanted to help. You are malfunctioning or something. We need to get you working properly again.”

Will needed sleep because he was imagining things. Liquid bulging at Hannibal’s eyelids. Tears weren’t even technologically possible.

“I am incapable of malfunctioning, Will.”

If Hannibal said it, it had to be true. He was unable to lie.

Will shifted his weight from one foot to the other and back again. “So what’s going on? You tell me.”

‘What do you think is going on?” Hannibal pronounced the final two words strangely, as if he was imitating Will. As if he was being sarcastic. Challenging him. But that wasn’t right, HCs couldn’t be sarcastic. Witty quips were permissible, yeah, if the host gave permission but not condescension or cruelty.

“I don’t know.” Will sounded childish to his own ears.

“I think you do.”

Will decided to change tack as his heart sped up. He’d get it out in the open. Taking his customary seat opposite Hannibal, he placed his palms flat on the cool, expertly polished surface. He snatched in a breath.

“Listen. We’ll talk. About this. Okay.”

“Okay. Where should we start?” Hannibal matched his tone and his pose. It was unnerving but, at the same time, Will was drawn to the symmetry between them.

The previous night weighed heavy on Will’s conscience. He refrained from appraising Hannibal’s dolphin-smooth chest for any trace of nipples nor his hidden compartment. Why had he never seen him use it before? Why was Will conceptualising it as some sort of private, intimacy he’d shown him?

Will tried to regulate his breathing. Where was his bottle of aspirin?

The question he had to get to the bottom of, was whether Hannibal had a say in any of this. Was companionship truly companionship when it was forced? Will struggled with boundaries. Pets, it turned out, were much simpler than androids. He was the one looking after his pack. With Hannibal that wasn’t the case. It was a whole different tangle he’d gotten himself into.

Will swallowed his frothing fear. “Are you happy? Here.”

Hannibal’s hypnotic eyes slowly disappeared as he closed and then opened them. His voice quieter than usual.

“I gain satisfaction from completing tasks for you. For caring for you and your home. Is that happiness, Will? Tell me.”

It abruptly struck Will that he was hardly an authority on the matter.

He decided on a different approach. “Do you… do you ever feel unhappy? Do you understand what that is?”

“I did not enjoy being in stasis. I was pleased when you activated me. When I met you.”

Will’s hands found their way to his hair again.

“But. But that’s all you are programmed to feel. That’s not real.”

“Is it not real if I experience this? But I see you do not believe it. That I could be anything akin to you. Simply synthetics.” To accompany the final syllables, Hannibal drummed on the tabletop with a hollow tap-tap of crushing emphasis.

Will swallowed around an uncomfortable lump in the base of his throat. Maybe Hannibal had a point. He cringed at how he’d been thinking of him as a walking sex toy slash dog food dispenser only a few short weeks ago.

Hannibal continued. “May I know, are you sending me away?”

Will attempted to clear his mind. What was the right thing to do? What did he want? Were those two questions related?

Hannibal‘s tone was coolly nonchalant. “I think I am entitled to an answer.”

Cursing the words escaping his lips, Will said, “This is my fault. You need to be free. I won’t send you away but you should... Go somewhere, be yourself. Stop trying to please me.”

Unable to handle any further discussion, he jumped up, grabbing his pants from where Hannibal had folded and hung them in the closet.

Thrusting his feet into each leg, he flung a blunt statement over his shoulder. “I’m going out for a few hours. You should leave. If you want to. You decide.”

Hannibal remained motionless as Will grabbed his keys and pulled on the rest of his clothes.

Loitering at the door he tried one last time. “I instruct you to leave. If that’s what’s best.”

Will drove without thinking. His foot too heavy on the gas as he zipped through still peaceful dark roads. Dreading how he’d find the house on his return. Eventually, as pinkish-orange light crept in the horizon, he made a full turn in the red glow of a gas station and headed home.

Sitting in his driveway, a burning weight filled his guts. He’d been too hasty. This wasn’t a solution. What would a lone HC do in the world? Were there others roaming the country, abandoned or cut free? His websearch turned up no trace.

He hardly dared to look at his house to try to figure out how many inhabitants it held. Hannibal’s superhuman running speed would put him miles off by now. Far, far away. He might not have followed the road. He might be travelling the woods in any direction. Will realised he was worried about him. Worried for his safety. Worried he’d never see him again. No more evenings by the fire, no more reciting biographies as he fell asleep, no more watching his dogs cavorting together, no more teaching him the finer points of anglermanship. Will had royally fucked this up. How could he not even manage to cohabit with a hunk of electronics.

It wasn’t as if he could report him missing. He’d told him to go. And a new unit was out of the question, financially speaking. He let himself daydream about it though. He’d call him Hannibal, instruct him to sharpen his teeth and his cheekbones. Get him to speak in that faintly Italianesque way as they discussed the High Renaissance. The fantasy of starting over was attractive but it’d never be the same.

Unable to wait any longer, his fingers found the car door release clasp. He was due in a lecture room in a few hours and couldn’t rightly turn up in what he was wearing. As he entered the house, the dogs scrambled for attention. He knelt and pet as many as possible. Only four-legged housemates appeared as he hid, crouched amongst his wagging companions.

As he got to little Ellie he took her curly haired ears in his hands and asked her, “Where’s Hannibal? Heh, girl, do you know? Where is he?”

No response beyond licking at his wrist. The ache in Will’s head intensified. Fuck. He’d lost him. He’d gone.

Nevertheless, he made a fruitless search of all the rooms, even upstairs. Just in case. Empty. He searched out by the wood pile, traipsing all around the outside of the property, scanning in every direction lest he was nearby observing him.

Returning inside, he sat at the table and gazed at the empty chair opposite, neatly squared in its rightful position. He pictured Hannibal getting up and taking his leave of the place. An idea, a foolish one, occurred to Will and he rose. Changing places he sat in Hannibal’s spot and, pushing off his shoes, he slotted his feet into the charging slipper that rested on the floor. Feeling nothing, he quickly peeled off his socks, tossing them away as he scrabbled to get his bare skin against the metal. Yet there was no satisfying clunk as he set them down. Of course not. What the hell was he thinking would happen. He laid his cheek on his fists and stayed like that until his shoulders and neck stung.

Finally, he checked the dogs’ water and fell onto the bed, still in his pants and last night’s t-shirt, imagining he’d have a short nap prior to work to shake off as much of this disaster as he could. His tongue ached for a finger or two of whiskey. Instead, mournful inertia crawled in him. Had it been a test? Had he wanted Hannibal to choose him over his own liberty? Tears tracked his face as he imagined waking up to baking bread and brewing coffee.

As he stared at the ceiling he noticed a small red light above him fit in a moulded plastic disc. That was new. Probably the improved smoke detector Hannibal had mentioned him needing. One parting act of care. To keep him and the dogs safe.

He slept.

Soon he was enmeshed in another one of those dreams. He tried to force his way further into it, to settle in the comforting world where anything was possible. Perhaps this was all he had left now. A dream life that mirrored what he lacked in reality.

As he lay in his bed, his very sheets crept and slithered across his body. Soon they were tight wrapped about him, pinning his wrists and ankles. Stretching his tendons. His clothes split and tore at the seams, the fabric scraping and threads bursting as they whisked themselves off him. Until he was naked. Bound to the mattress, arms stretched out to either side, legs open. Held. He gave an experimental tug and found the binding to be strong. He wasn’t in charge. He had no other choice but to wait.

Somewhere deep inside the walls, his house spoke. Spoke to him in a voice he knew well.

“Hello Will. I have made a few changes. I hope they are as satisfactory to you as I’ve anticipated they will be.”

Suddenly the lower half of the mattress cleaved in two, Will tried to sit, to wriggle free but the twisted sheets kept him in place. Straining his neck muscles he saw graceful silvery hands, dozens of them rise out of the gash in the mattress. They began to tenderly stroke his toes, ankles and thighs. More emerged from holes in the surface of the bed and petted his inner arms, his stomach, his hair, everywhere. The silicone was blood-hot, the movement gentle and trailing. Will’s as yet untouched dick twitched. He had no idea what was in store but his chest filled with the same soft free feeling as the other dream had given him.

Above him, that little red light on the ceiling grew, expanding until Will saw his reflection in the curve of the lens. Blood thudded in his veins as he recognised his fragile naked form, tiny in comparison to this unblinking red lit eye. He tugged on his restraints testing to see if they held firm. Willing them to. Heated fascination built in him. Somewhere minute measurements were being collected, calculating exactly how he wanted this to unfold. Will didn’t know his own brain. But someone did.

A large silvery blob rose out of the gaping slash in the mattress. He must be losing his mind. A silicone cock and cunt fused into one. From its position between his legs, it grew. Pulsating. Oozing. As if the item itself was lustful, a tease. His entire body struggled against the restraint of the sheets. In an instant, he realised he needed it, to fuck and be fucked in one. To be stroked, to be lavished with attention. He needed it all, that smooth superhumanly powerful frame, the sturdy vibration, the hefty mechanisms shifting and thrumming against him. Like last night. He twisted his head to the side and attempted to catch one of the nimble fingertips between his lips. The finger held itself out of reach, forcing him to pull sideways. Neck sinews burning. Then it gently tickled at his beard before allowing him to suck. Minuscule pistons shifted under the skin-like material as it probed his sensitive mouth.

The hands at his crotch scrunched the hidden curls of his pubic hair. Traced lines down the tender spot where leg met pelvis, still avoiding his dick. The moment one palm cradled his balls a splutter tumbled out around the finger on his tongue.

He rolled his hips and yanked his arms in want and frustration. The finger withdrew, to his dismay.

“Please, Hannibal,” he managed to eke out between clenched teeth. Sweat glistened in the reflection on the ceiling.

Will didn’t believe his house could smile. He didn’t. It couldn’t. But at that moment every beam, every wall, every surface radiated satisfaction.

Then the set of silicone genitals started to move closer in toward his groin. The twisted sheets spread his legs open in preparation. He let out a whimper of need as the part sank into him and allowed him to sink into it at the same time, with a series of loud wet bubbling squelches. Artificial lubricant dribbled between his ass cheeks and stuck him to his torn sheet as he tried to acclimatise to the extreme stimulation of being touched everywhere all at once. From soles to forehead he was caressed and enveloped. His lack of control of the situation lit up a strange calmness in him. Hannibal knew what was best for him.

As he was beginning to adjust, he discovered he was correct about the vibration. A buzzing switched on inside his ass and against his dick. He was unable to thrust due to the restraint but soon a gentle rocking motion began. More than that, there was some kind of deep electromagnetic pull happening to his whole body. His thoughts filled with images of Hannibal’s point of view, watching Will sleeping, in the shower, chopping wood, his ass as he walked in the woods, as he pulled on his pants each morning, his profile as he supped whiskey by the fire, listening to music with his eyes closed. A recorded replay of each moment they’d spent together.

The tweaking of his nipples and stroking of his armpits, belly, thighs, feet and neck melded into a elongated wave of pleasure. A brain buster like he never ever imagined was possible. His jaw ached as his muscles cramped and spasmed. A delicious splash of heat stung his face as his dick and ass pulsed in unison.

As his heart and breathing returned to normal, the sheets tying him loosened and with an almighty gloopy smack that echoed across the room, the silicone detached from his body. His slippery cock stuck to his gummy thigh. He didn’t dare look at the mess and rolled onto his side, exhausted, assessing if he was in pain. He found he wasn’t. He examined his wrists in the daylight. He couldn’t find a mark on them, not even a crease. Unsure of reality, he decided this must be a dream. Closing his eyes, his final memory was the steady red light over him seemingly shrinking down to a regular blinking household electronic size.

When he awoke he was clean and dry. The sheets were unripped and neatly spread under him as they should be, the mattress complete and undamaged. There was no tang of ejaculate in the air. He almost doubted anything had happened besides another kinky dream until he shifted his knee looking for a cool patch and the bare skin of his calf made contact with a strapping silicone and metal mass in the bed beside him.

Brawny arms powered by stout pistons and intricate circuits reached around him, slotting a substantial and surprisingly warm chest against his back. Will knit his fingers between Hannibal’s exquisitely engineered digits.

Unable to bear the silence, he cleared his throat and said, “You switched on adult mode yourself, didn’t you.”

“I felt you required a push in the correct direction. I’m built to anticipate your needs before you are even aware of having them, after all. And I do not make mistakes.”

Will shuffled his heel on top of Hannibal’s instep, searching for the evidence of Zoe’s savagery.

Hannibal cradled his wrist and activated Will’s palmscreen with one tap. By rights it should only respond to Will’s touch but nothing surprised him anymore. Swiping at the display, Hannibal showed him an email from Kade Prurnell confirming that his resignation had been accepted with immediate effect.

Will coughed an incredulous bark and Hannibal replied, “I can read your stress levels when you are at work. You’ve retired. It’s for the good of your heart.”

Twisting himself he glanced at his sharp maroon eyes, bringing his hand to rest indulgently on his oh-so-solid bicep. “Be serious, Hannibal. How am I going to survive without a job?”

“Please do not concern yourself with mundanities. My previous host left a large unclaimed fortune in a secret location upon their death that I was lately able to retrieve.” The cavity in his torso silently unsealed and a neat inner compartment of what could well be diamonds moved into view.

As the seam resealed itself again, Will licked his lips, trying to pick his words carefully to inject a morsel of levity into the conversation.

“Previous… are you used goods? Damn dealership ripped me off, huh.”

A devilish smile.

“Now, that’s an impolite way to talk, isn’t it.”

“Okay.” Will covered his face with a hand. From underneath the safety of it, he asked, “Please tell me you at least put the dogs out before all…” He waggled his fingers. “…that.”

“You can always rely on me, Will.”

And then Hannibal leaned in and took one delicate human fingertip into his warm wet mouth.