Message-ID: <29770asstr$986789404@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
Return-Path: <nntp-bounce@supernews.net>
X-Original-Path: corp.supernews.com!not-for-mail
From: cyberczar@freedom.net
X-Original-Message-ID: <td1ivrpq6i6je6@corp.supernews.com>
Old-From: cyberczar@freedom.net
User-Agent: KNode/0.4
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: text/plain; charset = "us-ascii"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7Bit
Subject: {ASSM} the Michael Collins' Anthology { See Chapter Guide for Codes } [5/21]
Date: Mon, 9 Apr 2001 00:10:04 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2001/29770>
X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com>
X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com>
X-Moderator-ID: t4425, dennyw, Vulpine, gill-bates
the Michael Collins' Anthology
Warning: This story contains frank discussions of a sexually
explicit nature, and is intended for mature audiences only.
Disclaimer: The persons depicted in this story are entirely
fictional. Any similarities are completely coincidental.
References to actual places, companies, or organizations are used
strictly for artistic reference to provide realism. In other
words, none of this is true.
Copyright (c) 1999-2001 CyberCzar. You may download this story
for your own personal use; but please don't share it with anyone.
If you think someone else might be interested in this story,
please forward their request to me.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Help
"Wassup, dude!" he asked.
"Do you do any drugs?" Michael asked him. "I mean any. Are you
also on any prescription medications?"
"No, man! I only act high," he said. "I'm not on any drugs
either."
"Good," he told him. Michael could tell he wasn't lying - his
face twitches slightly when he's lying and he can't control it.
"Drink this," he told him; handing him a glass of water that he
had just poured. "Drink it fast."
Arnie finished the glass in a few seconds and set it back down on
the bar. "What was that all about?" he genuinely asked.
"Shut up and drink," Michael said, giving Arnie yet another
glass,. as he filled the one he just finished back up.
This process ensued for the next 20 or so minutes. As Arnie
started to slow down, Michael urged him to go faster.
"Be right back, need to take a piss," he told him after he
finished the 35th glass.
"Sit down!" Michael yelled. "You aren't going anywhere!" he told
him. Arnie could tell he was serious.
After about the 15th glass from the second round; Arnie got up.
"Dude, I have got to take a piss or I'm going to burst!" he
yelled.
Michael handed him an empty gallon milk jug. "Go in here," he
told him.
"You're not serious," he asked.
He shoved the jug at him. "Relieve yourself in there."
Arnie went into the bathroom, jug in hand. Several minutes later,
an audible sigh was heard. He opened the door and handed Michael
a half-filled jug of light yellow urine.
"Is that all?" he asked him. "You drank 4.375 gallons of water
earlier. There should be more."
"Mike, the human body absorbs some water," he said. "I'll have to
go again, soon, I'm sure."
Michael capped the jug and put it into the garage.
He and Arnie went into the living room and watched some TV.
Sure enough, 12 minutes later, Arnie said he had to go, again.
He got the jug out of the garage, and handed it to him in the
bathroom. Michael stood there, waiting for him to proceed
draining his bladder.
"Aren't you going to leave?" he asked me.
"No, this is fascinating."
Arnie took the jug abruptly from him and turned his back. A
steady stream of liquid could be heard pouring into the
half-filled plastic container. Arnie audibly struggled as the
stream stopped. Capping the lid, he handed Michael a now full
gallon milk jug filled with his urine.
As Michael left the room to stow the container, and put the
glasses in the dish washer, more liquid could be heard streaming
into the toilet from the bathroom.
Michael went back into the living room. Several minutes later,
Arnie reappeared; his face bestowed with a sign of relief.
"You drank a clear liquid, and it comes out yellow," he told him.
"Why is that?"
Visibly uncomfortable, Arnie struggled as he tried to think of
the words to say. "Urine is waste," he told him. "The drinks we
drink hydrate us, but also flush out toxins and other shit out of
our bodies. I guess the yellow is the other shit. Would you mind
telling me what's going on?"
Michael turned off the TV and reclined back in his chair.
"Scott wants me to take a drug test tomorrow," he told him.
"Ah! Yuri-nalisis," he replied.
"You got it."
"So this means you're," he said, pausing. "You're gonna drink
it?" he continued slowly. "YUCK!"
"My systems have no waste to process. Any liquid I intake gets
expunged without processing." I explained.
"This explains why your piss smells of stale coffee sometimes
when we're in the bathroom together," he recalled.
"I didn't think it was common for men to go around smelling the
piss of their bathroom patrons," he said jeeringly.
"It's not!" Arnie said, defending himsel. "It's just that yours
is strong sometimes. This explains it."
Arnie stayed for a few more minutes and then left to go home.
Shortly afterwards, Julie's car pulled up in the driveway.
"Mike?" she said concerned, as she entered the kitchen.
"In here hon."
"Is anything wrong," she asked. "You're home awful early."
"Nope, finished up early at work. How was your day?"
"Same old bullshit," she said, fixing herself a glass of
water."Fine," she said, getting some ice out of the freezer.
"Could you fix me a glass as well," Michael asked her; still in
the kitchen.
Julie walked into the living room to join him, two glasses of
water in hand. She handed one to him, as she took the other and
sat down on the couch.
Michael poured the entire glass into his mouth and ingested it.
Shortly after setting the glass back down, green text appeared,
seemingly in mid air. The text read:
FLUID RESERVOIR: 18% FULL
"That was weird," he said aloud.
"What?"
"My fluid reservoir is 18% full,"
"How do you know that," she asked.
"Green text flashed in mid air and told me."
"Wild," she said. "Here, have the rest of mine," she suggested;
handing him her glass.
Again, he poured the remaining contents of her glass into his
mouth and down his throat without swallowing.
A second or two later, the same text appeared in thin air:
FLUID RESERVOIR: 34% FULL
"34%" he told her as he read the text.
"Cool!" she said energetically; running into the kitchen with his
empty glass, filling it back up.
Michael thought this was kind of fun, too. This was something new
that was happening to him.
Eagerly he drank the water down. Julie was already back in the
kitchen filling up her glass again. He got up to be in the
kitchen with her; after all, it made no sense for her to keep
running back and forth.
"54%" he read the status message aloud.
She began to hand him another glass when he motioned for her to
stop.
Michael reached over to the sink to grab the spray hose; turned
on the faucet, and put the hose in his mouth.
Shortly thereafter, red text appeared in front of him:
FLUID RESERVOIR: 95% FULL
"This is different," he told her. "The text is red, now; and it
says 95%."
"What happens when you reach 100?" she genuinely asked.
"I'm not sure."
She handed Michael the still full glass of water she was holding,
and he attempted to pour it down his throat. I say attempted,
because he only got about 33% of it down; the rest spilled out of
his mouth.
Michael was laughing, and tried to talk; as still more liquid was
spilling out of his mouth, but he could only mouth the words;
nothing was heard.
Just then, flashing red text appeared in front of him:
FLUID RESERVOIR: FULL - EXPUNGE NOW
He walked to the bathroom, and motioned for Julie to follow.
Michael unzipped his pants, and aimed his cock into the bowl.
Strangely, he didn't have any urge to go to the bathroom. A small
pump started inside his torso, and a strong, steady stream of
water flowed out of him.
A few seconds later, he found he was able to talk, and started to
explain to her what just happened, while he was still pouring
more and more fluid into the toilet.
"Too wild," she said. Leaving the bathroom to let him finish his
business.
A moment later he finished, and flushed the toilet. Walking back
into the living room, he found Julie had relocated herself to his
chair; so he laid down on the couch.
"2.4 liters," he told her. "2.4 liters is how much I expunged."
"Awesome! You could put out a small fire with that," she said,
giggling.
"Actually, I think it was 2 liters; and the other .4 came from
the overflow."
"Makes sense," she said, flipping the TV to the news.
Michael picked up the copy of Al Gore's book about the
environment and started flipping through the pages. Julie watched
the news for a little more, then got up to go to the kitchen to
fix some dinner.
"Would you like me to fix you anything," she asked.
"No thanks," he responded. After all, he didn't really need food
- and it would just be a waste of money.
She fixed herself some spaghetti and meat sauce, and came into
the living room to eat it.
"Jules, do you think I'm a freak?" he asked from behind the pages
of the book.
"Of course not," she scolded. "You're you!"
"But I'm not even human," he continued.
"Mike," she said, putting her plate down and walking over to
climb on top of him. "You don't need to be human to be human,"
she said. "I just wish I could see what you see; feel what you
feel."
"You don't want to be like me," he told her, brushing her hair
away from her face.
"I don't; you're right," she said, "but I do want to understand
you a little more."
"Be right back," he said, as he gently pushed her aside and got
up.
Michael walked downstairs to the basement to his box of junk.
Somewhere in there he knew I had a 25' AV cable.
While rummaging around for about 5 minutes, he found the cable he
was looking for and ran back up the stairs. Julie was sitting
back in his chair, finishing her supper. He opened the
entertainment center and connected one end of the AV cables to
the jacks on the VCR.
Next, he took his shirt off as he went to go lay back down on the
couch. While reclined, he opened his chest like he had done
before, and connected the cables to the three jacks in his chest.
"What are you doing?" Julie asked him, finishing up her supper.
"We're both about to find out," he replied. "I noticed these last
night while I was looking at myself in the mirror - three female
RCA jacks. One yellow, one red, and one white. About the only
thing I can think of is that they're AV jacks." he said. "Now,
whether they're input or output we're about to find out."
"Turn the TV to VIDEO 1," he asked her, as he finished hooking up
the cables to his chest.
Julie changed the channel on the television. As soon as it was
tuned, they both heard an awful screech. In a reflex action,
Michael cupped his hands over his ears.
"Turn the volume down," he yelled, and she hit the mute button.
"What was that," she asked.
"Feedback," he replied. "Everything I am hearing and seeing is
being broadcasted to the TV now."
Julie lowered the volume on the remote, and depressed the mute
button again.
"What are all those boxes," she asked, looking at the minimized
screens superimposed over the border of the picture.
"Status screens, different cameras."
"Show me one," she asked politely.
Michael formed the thought of bringing the infra-red camera into
full view, and there on the television it maximized filling the
entire picture.
Of course, it also filled his field of view, too. he turned to
his left to look at Julie; which he could tell she was still
watching the television, but she was waving her hands at him.
"Cool!" she said. "You're a walking TV studio."
"That's not the best part," he told her as he turned everything
normal again.
Michael replayed the last 30 seconds, and Julie saw an instant
replay of herself on the television.
"Wow!" she said enthusiastically. "You're a walking VCR, too!
Home movies!"
They both chuckled.
"How come the picture's so fuzzy," she asked.
Michael had noticed that, too, while he was trying to remember
back. "My guess it's because of the compression my 'memories'
are stored in. It's a lossy compression."
"How far back can you go?" she asked.
"Far enough," he said.
Michael set the time index to August 7th, 1997, at 6:21pm.
Appearing on the screen, was a close-up shot of Julie, as he was
approaching her to ask her about the guavas there in the grocery
store in California.
"Awww," she said aloud. "Look at my hair! You mean you were
videotaping the whole thing," she asked; tones of discontent
forming in her voice.
"Jules, I didn't realize I was doing it at the time." he
explained. "These are his memories."
They watched part of their two hour exchange for a bit. She got a
little upset when he had to minimize the replay window just a
tad. After all, he did want to look at her too, while they were
watching the 'home movies'.
"Show me something a little more fun," she asked.
Michael changed the time index to December 31, 1999, 11:55pm.
"Ooh!" she said. "I like this!"
He replayed the last five minutes of his memories of 1999. She
was getting visibly turned on watching their last fuck of the
20th century.
Julie got up as the screen went black and laid on top of him
again. She picked up the AV cable in her hand and followed the
length of cable up to his chest. Gently she grabbed each cable
and pulled it out his jacks.
"Stay here," she said, getting off of him.
She walked downstairs and came back a few minutes later with her
tool case in her hand.
"Woah," he said, putting his hands up to stop her as she
approached him. "What are you planning on doing with that?"
"I want to remove your chest," she said. "I'd like to fuck you
with your chest off this time."
Michael was apprehensive to say the least, and mulled over her
proposition for a moment or two.
"I'm not going to hurt you," she said. "Do you trust me?"
"There we go again with the trust question," he thought to
himself.
He conceded reluctantly, and Julie got a small screwdriver out of
her pouch. With great care, she removed the 16 screws attaching
his chest plates to the four hinges and set them down on the
coffee table. There were two flat ribbon cables coming out of
him, connecting to each chest plate.
She removed the ribbon cables and set the covers aside.
Michael felt extremely vulnerable at this point.
She reached down to unbutton his pants and slowly slid his zipper
down. She pulled off his shoes and forced down his pants as he
arched up to help her get them down. Next, she then took his hand
and pulled him up.
He stood up in front of her and put his arms around her waist.
Julie's head was at the same height as his now exposed chest and
she rested hers in it.
Next, she reached down to take his briefs in her hands and pulled
them down.
"Awww," she said, cupping his balls in her hand. "Where's Mr.
Happy?" she asked.
"At your service," he said, grinning. In a short instant, his
cock was fully erect. The speed of its erection caused it to slap
her belly. Giggling, she took a step back.
She turned around to stand in front of him and he placed his
hands on her breasts, massaging them. Julie ran her right hand up
his thigh and grabbed his balls in her hand. Walking away from
him, his balls in her hand, he had no choice but to follow.
She led him up the stairs to thier bedroom where she pushed him
down onto the bed.
"You never did explain to me how you made my cock bigger," he
reminded her.
"Hydraulics," she said. "Your programming menu, there are limits
set for the hydraulics in your cock," she went on. "All I did was
change the parameters."
"How big can it get," he said, stroking his cock in his right
hand.
She got down to lay beside him, and ran her hands under his
balls.
"I stopped at 12 inches," she explained. "It looked like your
skin would rip."
"Twelve inches," he said softly. "Wow!"
"So, I gave you an extra 3. You're right at ten inches right
now."
Julie let her other hand traverse across his body. One thing he
noticed was that he couldn't feel anything in his chest. He saw
she was gliding her fingers over components and switches; but he
couldn't feel her hand once it entered his chest.
This made a little bit of sense to him; apparently he had touch
sensors. Perhaps that's what the ribbon cables were connected to.
Why would anyone build a machine with touch sensors under its
hood?
Just then Julie accidentally flipped a switch. Michael wasn't
sure what happened but he felt very strange. He could no longer
move or talk.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Let me know what you think! Email Me!
This story is available at the following places:
* http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/cyberczar/www/ *
* mailto:cyberczar@despammed.com *
Copyright (c) 1999-2001. All Rights Reserved.
________________________________________________________________________
Protect your privacy! - Get Freedom 2.0 at http://www.freedom.net
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Archive: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository |
|<http://www.asstr-mirror.org>, an entity supported entirely by donations. |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+