| Automatically Adaptable By Lucy Yip |
| Ray really didn�t know why he was heading over to John�s this evening. He�d wanted to stay at home and watch a flick, maybe game on the computer, but John had insisted he get his ass over to his place. "You ain�t gonna believe the shit," he�d literally panted on the phone. "You got to be here, okay?" It wasn�t okay, but when John was on a tear like this, you couldn�t shut him down. Ray figured he�d picked up a couple of bimbo sluts, and the plan was to get them loaded and fuck the shit out of them. That's what happened a few months back, and Ray hadn�t really objected�except the term "data rape" kept floating about in the back of his mind all the while he�d been talking to his "date," and the girl John had been with didn�t look as if she�d graduated from high school . . .. Or it was going to be porn. John was a porn addict. He had to watch it at least once a week, or he went into withdrawals. He was such a junkie that Ray often called him the Keith Richards of fuck movies. And while Ray didn�t mind a fuck movie now and then, he was a little�wary of John�s taste in flicks. For one, he was totally into submissive chicks. The more, the better. In fact, Ray found it strange that one of John�s favorite movies was Cherry 2000, a horrible old flick about a guy looking for spare parts for his robot lover. "Don�t you get it?" John asked him one night after Ray had offered his criticism of the movie, "The chick is a robot. She�s like the perfect fuck doll! You wind her up and away she goes!" "That�s kind of�strange," Ray replied. He�d wanted to say "sick," but thought better of it. John could get pretty agitated when he got worked up. He knocked on the door, wondering if he should have gotten loaded first before entering. John opened the door, a big shit-eating grin on his face. Ray was already feeling this wasn�t going to be a good night. "Dude! What�s happenin�?" John asked, stepping aside. "Enter, enter!" Ray looked around the living room for signs of bimbos; shoes, drinks, maybe a misplaced bra or skirt . . . nothing. It looked clear. And he didn�t seen anything rented sitting on the entertainment center. No chicks, no porn, Ray thought. What the fuck is John up to? "You want a beer?" John asked, heading for the �fridge. "Sure. No Bud, okay?" John loved that shit, but Ray couldn�t help but gag every time he tried it. John had gotten to the point where he kept other stuff cold for when he had company. Ray sat on the sofa, beer in hand, while John his the easy chair in the corner. "So," Ray asked, "What�s up? Where�s the�excitement, so to speak?" "Well, you know . . . the �excitement� hasn�t shown up yet," John replied. "It�s gonna be here soon." "So what you got? A couple of girls from the grade school down the street, gonna show us their panties if we buy them ice cream?" Ray hadn�t meant to sound so harsh, but he was bored and he wasn�t about to let John off the hook with some lame shit. For his part John didn�t seem upset. Not at all. "No, nothing like that," he said. "I got a real fuck bitch coming." "A �fuck bitch�? What�s that?" "Totally submissive robot chick�" Ray�d heard enough. Robot chick, my ass, he thought. He drained the rest of his beer. "Right, dude . . . I�ll tell you want�" He put the empty on the end table. "When the Robot Fuck Toy gets here, let me know and I�ll�" "Ray." That single word from John�s mouth�the way it was spoken. Ray�d never heard anything so blatantly . . . demanding . . . before. At least not coming from John. He stopped and turned . . .. John was still sitting, but he had this gun in his hands. It looked like something you might find stolen from the prop room of the old Star Trek series. It was that funky. It couldn�t be anything but a prop� But Ray was nervous since it was pointing at him . . . and John wasn�t smiling. "Hey, man, what�s up with this shit?" Ray asked. "You wanted to know when the �Robot Fuck Toy� was getting here?" "Yeah?" "She�s here." John fired. Ray shuddered once before the lights went out . . .. |
| "Open your eyes." Suddenly Ray could see again. He lay still, trying to take in what had happened, what was going on. After getting hit with what looked like a ray, he couldn�t remember anything. It had been all blackness and silence. The last fucking thing I remember was that ray. Everything since then�nothing. I don�t remember a thing. He tried to sit up and discovered he couldn�t move. Couldn�t move anything. It was as if his whole body was a piece of wood. He was completely immobile. It didn�t mean he couldn�t feel . . . and Ray was feeling some strange things right now. For one thing, his body felt like it was�encased. In something like�rubber? He knew that couldn�t be possible, but he couldn�t deny it. And his feet�he was wearing shoes. But he could feel something gripping his legs almost to his knees. Boots? What the fuck? John floated into his vision. He was looking him over while Ray was thinking, Why the fuck doesn�t he do something? He�s checking me out like I�m a piece of meat! After a few more seconds John stepped back. "Sit up," he commanded. |
| Without understanding what was going on Ray sat up, twisted around, and sat on the sofa, legs together, hands folded in lap, eyes straight ahead. There was enough of a view in his peripheral vision that Ray could see�he was wearing some sort of dress! As John moved something from the kitchen he barked out, "Stand up and walk to the middle of the living room. Turn in this direction when you are there." Again, Ray did exactly as told. As he stood he began to realize many things. One, he was wearing a dress. Two, he was always wearing boots of some sort. Three, he wasn�t walking the way he normally should. It was one foot before the other, slowly, seductively, putting a swing in his hips that hadn�t been there before. And four: he was sure he wasn�t the person he�d been when he came here. As he turned, he saw the mirror John was holding. He also saw the girl looking back at herself . . .. |
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