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.
“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.”