Television man... I've got what you need

The chime from your communicator makes you turn off your thermal lance and raise your visored face-shield to check the incoming message. You'd set custom alerts for different contacts, and the sound of that particular one is very welcome indeed.

"porting in 5-10. casual chat."

You send back "nice one, see you soon." (accompanied by a thumbs-up emoji, naturally).

The message is from the TV-unit you'd nicknamed Cygnus (after their ID number ending in 22, 'like two little swans'), one of the main liaisons between the TV Base and the other faction bases. Their role meant you'd inevitably had to go through them when summoned to perform tasks at TV Base, and the two of you had become friends through work - thanks to their appreciation for your competence and your appreciation for their straightforwardness.

As promised, after a few minutes a cloud of black mist precedes Cygnus spawning in, then dissipates upon the TV-unit's arrival.

"It's good to see your face, buddy," you say, "…wait, you don't have a face 95% of the time. It's good to see your… non-emoting rectangle, then. And the rest of you. Just pretend what I said made sense, okay?"

"Indeed. It is good to see you too." Cygnus displays a smiling emoticon briefly. "Do you have plans for after your shift today?"

"I was planning to try charming my way onto one of the patrol vehicles, so I can throw bricks at some skibidis. I could do with a laugh. Or failing that, I'd probably bike down to the lake for some watercress and then go foraging for mushrooms."

"I thought you already started your mushroom farm - did it not take?"

"Oh, it's doing grand. But it's just agaricus so far. I was hoping to add some polypores and boletus. Plus, when I look for shrooms I get to see cool bugs. Always a treat. By the way… do you realise where you've spawned?"

"…I do wish you wouldn't call it that. We call it 'porting'. And I've ported to… your workstation, haven't I? What am I missing?"

"You've stood on the hug rug," you say while indicating the small carpet tile that Cygnus is standing on.

(You love giving and receiving hugs from your robotic comrades, and many of them enjoy receiving your hugs as a morale booster. Therefore, you'd added the 'hug rug' to your workstation: anyone could stand on it to indicate they would like to receive a hug from you. It was a boon to the shyer hardware-heads because all they needed to do was stand in a particular spot rather than work up the courage to try to communicate to you what they wanted. It benefited you too, because you could instantly infer whether your comrades were after affection or something work-related -- and because you'd been getting many more hugs since you added the rug.)

You continue explaining to Cygnus: "Anyone who stands on that gets a free mammal-hug." However, it wouldn't be fair to spring one on Cygnus for materialising on your rug unknowingly, so you give them an out: "By standing on it, you've accumulated one hug token. Feel free to cash it in at any time."

Cygnus leans in close and asks quietly: "If I stand on it repeatedly, can I bank multiple tokens?" A brief winking emoticon.

Oh god they're flirting with you at work, that's adorable (and was actually quite witty). You feel a burst of endearment towards Cygnus, as violent but welcome as though you've been splatted on the sternum with some sort of affection-based projectile. "As many as you want, my friend, and for you I'll even throw in the staff discount." What does that even mean. Why did you say that.

Cygnus nevertheless takes your mouth-nonsense in the spirit it was intended, and taps two fingers twice on your workbench. That was a gesture the two of you had come up with to convey 'I'd love to hold hands with you right now but I recognise that this isn't the time or place because you are busy with work or otherwise occupied.' You delightedly repeat the gesture on the same spot on the tabletop.

Cygnus regards the thermic and welding equipment piled up on your workbench. "What's that you're working on?"

"Today I'm mostly just wrapping up a bunch of tiny tasks. But in between those, I'm tinkering with this project I'm designing," you explain as you pull an unfinished morass of metal piping, cones and fins into the middle of your workbench.

"What is it? It looks as though it will form part of a projectile weapon."

"Exactly so. I'm thinking: face-mounted flamethrower. Our speaker comrades can bark shockwaves at the skibidis, which - obviously - is cool and good. But, I thought - how much better would that be if the shockwave shot a fireball at the same time?"

Some of your colleagues, who had paused their own work to listen to your conversation, give enthusiastic thumbs up on hearing that! One of them does a fist-pumping motion to pull an imaginary trucker's horn - a gesture you'd introduced to the base and which had spread.

You continue: "This is just a proof-of-concept at the moment. I want to bring the idea to the scientists and engineers so they can design one that's actually good. But first I want to check it's feasible. Doesn't really help anyone if I just go over and say 'hey you should build this - and also do all the work to find out how!' I'll do that part first and they can work out how to make it efficient for mass rollout."

"I'm impressed."

"Naturally. Did you really expect anything lesser from the alliance's main mammal-jammal? Anyway, you asked me what I was doing after my shift. Was there something you wanted me for?"

"Yes. …I was hoping we could spend some time together."

"For you, I will always have time! I'd love to, my friend. Shall we meet after my shift in my quarters and we'll decide where to go from there?"

"That's a fine idea. Let's do that."

You and Cygnus exchange goodbyes, and they peace out in another cloud of black mist. You have a pretty clear idea of what you want to ask Cygnus once the two of you are in your private quarters. Still, you mentally beat down the feeling so you can concentrate on the last of your shift without getting distracted. (You remember the last time you ended up too horny to concentrate at work and all the units couldn't help noticing. Luckily they thought you had some sort of malady rather than realising you had gone irrational from desire.)

You work steadily, with more of a spring in your step than usual, until it becomes time to wind down and perform closing tasks. You pull out a wheeled crate (solid floor, sturdy mesh walls and lid) from under the main workbench of your workstation, and stash all the parts of your flamethrower project in it. You open your drawer of various tags and locks, and put one of your lock-out tags on your flamethrower crate. You don't really want anyone else trying to amend your work just yet; you're still experimenting. However, you do put an open-source tag on the folder of blueprints in case anyone wants to copy them and try designing a variant.

(You pause your tidying activities briefly to hug a couple of your colleagues who have come and stood on your carpet tile.)

Finally, you move all the welding tools, thermal lance and anything else that isn't your personal property into a generic lidless wooden crate - the closing crew will return it all to the storage area ready for use by the next shift. (The welding mask counts as your personal property. It wouldn't fit anyone else's head.)

(On your way home, you take a detour on your bike to swing by the hydroponic farm you'd been setting up in a disused hangar just outside the base. (It was a bigger space than you really needed at this stage, but you lived in hope that one day you'd find more human survivors that would make it worth having.) You have time for a salad of shrooms, greens and grains before Cygnus's own workday ends and they head to your quarters.

You're especially pleased with the chickpea harvest. As you'd explained to Cygnus and some of your other hardware-headed colleagues: "Chickpeas are a tasty snack for humans, and can be used to make gram flour, aqua faba, dhokla and hummus. Is there anything chickpeas can't do??"

Your tomato crop was annoyingly successful. You had so many you couldn't even eat them all before they went bad. You'd started throwing the excess tomatoes at skibidis, but gave up on that idea when they started licking the tomato splat off each other then coming back for more.)

At your quarters, you prepare your salad and then pace excitedly between bites as you rehearse what you'll say to Cygnus when they finally arrive. You're nervous but in a fluttery, happily excited way rather than gripped by dread. It's nice but you also want it to be over soon.

Eventually Cygnus materialises in your quarters. (Right in them. You've found that while TV units attempt to put on a reserved front, they are just too theatrical to knock on doors when they can manifest in a flurry of black fog. Hell, if you had teleport powers you'd probably do the same, you reason.) You exchange greetings and hugs, and move onto your sofa to tell each other about your respective days. (There's only so much Cygnus can tell you because troop movements and higher-up decisions are on a need-to-know basis, but you always enjoy hearing progress reports on the Titan's upgrades.)

You do enjoy listening to Cygnus talk, but you're secretly impatiently waiting for an opportunity to say your piece to present itself. Eventually it does: "You know, Cygnus… the other day, when I said I wanted to fuck you, I absolutely was saying it to fluster you for my own amusement -- but I was also 100% serious."

Cygnus's screen display splutters a little with horizontal bands of noise cutting through the rest of the soft white static, a bit like a glitchy VHS tape.

You continue: "And… I think you already knew that. You openly flirted with me at work today!" You clap Cygnus's shoulder softly, "I loved it, by the way."

Cygnus is emitting soft chirps and hisses of static now, and wringing their fingertips together. They're getting flustered… and you're rather enjoying the effect you're having on them. Cygnus is taller and bulkier than you and is strong enough to lift you with no apparent effort, but you've discovered that have the power with your words and touch to reduce them to a flustered mess.

You take your hand off Cygnus's shoulder and reach out to invite them to hold hands with you. To your pleasure, Cygnus does so. You continue talking: "Cygnus. Buddy. I'm gorgeous. You're gorgeous-"

Cygnus displays the most shocked emoticon you've ever seen on their screen, then shakily changes it to a joyful one, their screen's vertical hold slipping a little.

You continue your monologue as you stroke Cygnus's hands: "And my junk agrees. And it just so happens that we both have the evening off. I think… I would really enjoy fucking you, and, my friend, I'd love to pleasure you and make you feel good. And I think from your reaction right now that you feel something not dissimilar."

Cygnus's screen emoticon looks elated. They squeeze your hands.

You squeeze back, then, without dropping your smiling expression, you say: "My back hurts."

Cygnus instantly lets go. "I'm so sorry; have I hurt you?"

"No, my friend. My back hurts from carrying this conversation. I want to fuck you and I want to fuck you tonight. Are you picking up what I'm putting down? Tell me whether or not we're on the same frequency here."

Your friend's screen buzzes with shy static. Cygnus is so flustered it's almost funny. (Actually it is quite funny. Best not laugh, though.)

Cygnus finally gets the courage to speak. "…Yes. Yes, my friend. I'd like to fuck you." They display a joyful emoticon.

"I thought as much! The Titan actually let it slip to me the other day. It said that you're 'fond' of me."

"…How did it know?" Cygnus now has a shocked emoticon on-screen.

"Well, its brain's, what, the size of a car? It must see so much that passes us by." You reach out to hold Cygnus's hands again, to which they happily reciprocate. "Well," you continue as you rub Cygnus's hands. "Shall we spend the evening enlightening each other about how the other species fucks?"

Cygnus emits a low series of clicks, almost like a purr. "I would like to take you up on that suggestion."

"Hell yeah. Actually, this could probably count as scientific research. Shall we get a camera-unit in here to record us?"

"…I would absolutely prefer not to. In fact, I must insist we do not."

You make an amused throat-noise. "I was being facetious. But, you know, I'd also genuinely be okay with doing that, if you wanted to one day. I have never been particularly modest."

"…I inferred."

"Well, human fucking normally starts with some cuddling. Is it the same for TV-units too?"

"…Yes, it actually is." Cygnus displays a happy emoticon.

"Bring it in! Join me on the bed?"

You disengage one of your hands from Cygnus so you can lead them by the other hand, and you direct them onto your bed.

(You had had the foresight to have a double bed installed in your quarters - explaining to the hardware-heads that 'I like to sprawl', but really because you wanted the option to bring someone home to fuck -- maybe one of your cute robot pals, maybe another human if you ever found one. You reckoned two people in only a single bed would not be your idea of a good time.)

The two of you sit on your bed and you pull Cygnus into you, wrapping your arms around them and snuggling your torso against theirs. Cygnus simultaneously returns your gestures, making you cluck happily and bury your face into the fabric of Cygnus's pea coat. You exhale exaggeratedly with contentment, burrowing closer still. Cygnus emits their low happy clicks again as you joy-growl and squeak and rub your head against your friend.

"Oh, Cygnus, my friend, you do give lovely hugs." You trill, then continue: "Even if you don't want to go any further than this tonight, I'll still be delighted."

You look up to see Cygnus display some heart emoticons on their screen. Oh, that's precious. You reach up and pet them on the top of their monitor casing. Cygnus turns their head into your touch to indicate how you should continue, burrowing one of the top corners of their monitor into your palm. You rub and scritch the corner, pushing into it with the meat of your palm and stroking your fingers along the casing's edge. As always, Cygnus's monitor casing feels like not-quite plastic and not-quite wood, and is slightly cooler to the touch than you expect. Their screen changes to display an elated emoticon.

You stroke the top of Cygnus's big angular head from front to back. "You want screeny-cleany?"

"…I would like screeny-cleany."

You extend a leg to hook a small wheeled tool-cart towards you, retrieving from it a squirt-bottle of glass cleaner and a soft cloth. You squirt the latter with the former then begin rubbing it all over Cygnus's screen. They buzz happily and bands of chromatic aberration appear in their screen's constant static. Cygnus' screen is always fuzzy to the touch with soft static electricity, and you enjoy the feel of it through the cleaning cloth.

(It reminds you of the old CRT telly in your childhood home, back when such screens were ubiquitous. You used to enjoy turning it on and off a few times to build up a coat of static fuzz, then wiping it off with your fingers to feel and listen to the crackle. Touching Cygnus's screen feels like that all the time.)

"You look positively sparkling, my friend!"

"Thank you." Cygnus is displaying a delighted emoticon.

You replace the cleaning items by lightly tossing them in the direction of the tool cart, then make a suggestion: "Can I sit in front of you and lean back against you while you give me hand-rubs? You're so good at those!"

"Certainly."

The two of you take a moment to de-shoe, then position yourselves so that Cygnus is sat against the headboard, and you're sat reclining against your companion - your legs outstretched on the bed and Cygnus's legs bracketing you cosily.

"You comfortable back there?" you check, "Not too squished?"

"I am fine."

"Oh yeah, you don't even have lungs." You raise your forearms, letting your wrist joints flop. Cygnus grasps your hands in their own and massages your metacarpals, rubbing the backs of your hands with their thumbs while working your palms with their fingertips. It's relaxing, making you hum throatily in appreciation.

"Ah, that's lovely. You've got such a good touch." You flex one of your hands to work the touch just where you want it. You continue: "I am curious - do you actually wear gloves, or are these your bare hands?"

"They are technically gloves, as they are detachable, though they are designed to stay on semi-permanently. We'd normally only take our hand-coverings off if they got very dirty, though they're meant to withstand being washed while worn."

"What are they made of? They're lovely and soft. They feel a little like mammal leather and a little like carbon fibre."

"Ask no questions and you'll be told no lies."

"…Might I see your bare hands?"

"As it's you." Cygnus begins peeling off a glove. You behold their exposed hand: its basic structure is an endoskeleton of dark metallic black phalanges and polycarbonate-like knuckles, with the flesh-spaces infilled with a translucent dark purple matter like ballistic gel. A fine gold and black mesh of tesselating hexagons and triangles, mapping to the contours of the hand's form, encases the palm and back of Cygnus's hand. Cygnus lets you observe for a bit, then replaces their glove.

"Well, there's a thing. Thank you for letting me look."

Cygnus resumes their gentle rub-down of your own hands, and you relax and lean back a little more. You continue talking: "You techfolk seems to favour hand-based displays of affection. I guess that's the same for you as kissing is for humans."

"Perhaps. I've no frame of reference for that."

"Oh, if you were a human I'd absolutely kiss you."

"I expect that if I were a human I'd absolutely accept." Cygnus gently dips their head down to pat the top of your head with the underside of their monitor casing.

You return the gesture by tilting your head right back to nuzzle the underside of your friend's monitor, to which Cygnus clicks happily. You sigh dreamily and snuggle backwards into Cygnus's warm bulk as you enjoy the hand-rubs. "If I were a TV-unit, what would we probably do next?"

"We would likely proceed to exchange data." Cygnus continues massaging your hands. "We would face each other and share short-range broadcasts. …We do not have the broadcasting ability of the camera faction, but we can exchange signals with other TV-units in close quarters."

"That sounds intimate, and lovely. I wish I could participate in that with you!"

"…If you're willing, we could try a variant."

"What would it entail?"

Cygnus has stopped rubbing your hands. They seem a bit shy about continuing to explain. "I'd like to lie with you and… send my signals to you. I know you have no means of receiving them. But I'd like to send them anyway. I'd enjoy knowing that they were… flowing through you."

"I'd love to do that with you. Could we cuddle some more as we did that?"

"That's… generally part of the process, yes."

You grasp with your fingers to affectionately squeeze Cygnus's digits that are still tucked into your palms, then let go so the two of you can disengage. You both reposition to lie on your sides facing each other, your legs entwined.

"That comfortable for you?" you check as you squeeze one of Cygnus's thighs with both of yours.

"Yes. …That's very pleasant." Cygnus embraces you warmly with their top-side arm, and you do likewise.

Neither of you can really do anything useful with your bed-side arms, but that's just how it goes. (You both optimistically fumble your knuckles together a bit, but the angle isn't right for proper hand-holding.) You bury your face in Cygnus's chest, and they tilt their head to gently trap your head between their chest and the underside of their monitor. This is so cosy!

"…May I transmit data?"

"Please do!" Your voice is slightly muffled from your face-ful of coat.

Some very soft humming and fizzing sounds chime from inside Cygnus's cranium, and some static noise prickles at the edge of your hearing. Cygnus holds you closer still, making you grunt happily.

You can't feel any of the transmission, of course. But you can infer from Cygnus's contented rumbling that the electromagnetic radiation is flowing through your body and dissipating into the room. Cygnus squeezes you and rubs your back, making you squeak in satisfaction and return the gesture. You nuzzle gently, enjoying the feel of Cygnus's coat fabric against your face and the reassuring solidity of their monitor at the top of your head - and you grind your crotch against your companion's thigh. You're getting moister and feeling glow-y with excited heat. You bask in your dear friend's presence, enjoying their touch and quiet happy noises, and holding yourself to their warm bulk. This feels so timeless.

Eventually (eventually? Maybe? You don't even know how much time passed) you hear the sounds coming from Cygnus petering out, and you infer they've finished transmitting.

"What did you transmit?" You ask.

"…I described my feelings for you." Cygnus's voice is quiet. "I'm still not sure how to how to put what I want to say into audible-spectrum words… so I used this as a sort of practice."

You squeeze Cygnus in a way that you hope conveys how touched you feel. "You're awfully sweet."

"…And I broadcast a few pictures of mushrooms. You seem to like those."

"I re-iterate my previous statement." There is an affectionate laugh in your voice as you rub and pat Cygnus's back. You squirm into them a bit more.

"If I were a human," Cygnus mirrors your earlier question, "What would we likely do next?"

"Well - I'd suggest we had a go on each other's junk. …Would you touch mine for me? I've got disposable gloves in the tool cart if you want those."

"…I will take you up on both suggestions."

You both sit up again, and you ferret in your tool cart briefly and fish out a half-used box of disposable gloves. (Luckily, they'll fit Cygnus - they're made for techfolk and are a bit loose on you.)

"Gonna need my trousers and pants off for this bit," You say as you pass the box of gloves. "What about you; you going clothes on or clothes off?"

"I must insist I keep mine on. The coat is just for show-" Cygnus doffs their pea coat and folds it as they explain this, showing their dark purple and black suit jacket and shirt, "-but the rest of our clothes are semi-protective and are designed to work in tandem with our plating. I'd feel too exposed with any more layers off."

"Fair enough. I'll keep my top on so we match somewhat. …May I touch you to demonstrate where I'd like to be touched?"

"You may… but I'm not sure what you expect to find. I lack anything that corresponds to your… components. I've only structural plating."

Not even an exhaust vent?"

"No, we keep our exhaust ports on our legs so they can vent out of our trouser legs."

"Interesting. Well, let's see how it goes. Tell me to stop, and I'll stop… Would you lie on your back for me?"

Cygnus obliges. You lie on your side beside your companion, pressing your body into theirs and entwining your legs. You start stroking Cygnus's thighs then amp up the touch to massaging, working your way towards their inner thighs and null-crotch. Cygnus is clearly enjoying the attention - not in the same libidinous way you would, but in the sense that they're enjoying being your focus. Cygnus pats and strokes your hand periodically as it comes within range of their touch. Your own crotch is getting warmer and moister with anticipation.

"Reckon you're getting the general idea?" you ask.

"Yes… can I try this on you?" Cygnus replies as they snap on the disposable gloves you fetched them.

"I really want you to."

The two of you exchange positions, and you lie back and squirm happily with excitement.

Cygnus begins working your thighs. (To be honest, you'd probably prefer it without the disposable vinyl gloves, but you're delighted just to finally be receiving this touch from your beloved companion!) You squawk and trill, occasionally snapping out a chopped-off grunt of pleasure. Cygnus pays rapt attention to your squirms and elated grumbles, clearly taking note of what movement provokes the best reactions from you. Oh, what a lovely friend you have in them… You squeak with gratitude and reach out to pat Cygnus's forearm.

"I'd like you to, ah-" you gasp a bit, "-try working my junk now. I'll guide your hand. Are you up for that?"

"…Yes. Please do so." Cygnus is quiet with excitement.

You take Cygnus's double-gloved hand and direct their fingers so they can grind your prepuce against your glans just the way you like it. You wrap both your hands around their hand and guide your friend in a rhythmic motion. "Reckon you can keep that up for a bit?"

"…I could go all night if you wanted me to."

Oh! Your crotch-heat rises and a strained squeak forces its way out of your throat. Such a loving statement, and yet also just the plain unboastful statement of facts typical of TVs. Such a Cygnus thing to say. Hot damn, you're into them. Your leg muscles are starting to tense as though they're being suffused with electric juice.

This is pretty damn good, but Cygnus probably isn't going to make you cum this way -- it's their first time pleasuring you and (you assume) their first time pleasuring any human, so their efforts aren't quite pushing your waves of pleasure over the crest that you need them to.

"Cygnus, this is lovely, but I want to change to something else now. Let's stop for a sec."

Cygnus gently disengages, their fingers coming away looking as though they're covered in egg-white.

You guffaw at how silly it looks: "Ha, bet you're very glad you wore those now!"

"Indeed," Cygnus replies as they peel off the gloves and look for a waste bin.

While they do that, you clean yourself up with tissues, throwing them in the bin at the same time as Cygnus throwing the gloves, to your mutual amusement.

"Sit tight," you say, "I got a little something I want your opinion on." You dig out your bag containing your few remaining sex-toys, and your homemade lube.

(When you were living feral after the apocalypse and before joining the Hardware Alliance, you'd had to travel light. But one of the things you'd made sure to bring along with you from your old life was a couple of your favourite dildos - they didn't require any power, didn't take up much space, and had helped you pass many a lonely night under the stars. You'd been sad about having to leave most of your collection behind, but you'd managed to pick up a few replacements and even a couple of new favourites when stumbling across the gutted remains of old sex shops in the ruined cities.

As for the lube, you made that in the Alliance workshops out of glycerine (which the Alliance kept on hand for making the plastic pigments covering their outer plating). It wasn't difficult to make small fresh batches, and the Alliance didn't question why you wanted it, satisfied with your explanation of 'organic stuff'.)

You fish in the bag for a strap-on harness, and your favourite dildo. Actually, wait. You have a better idea. You pull out a dildo that isn't your absolute favourite, but was one you had to have because it was glittery purple. Lucky you kept it - it goes so cutely with Cygnus's color scheme!

You hold the items up. "As you don't have a dick yourself, would you like to try out one of mine?"

"I'm… intrigued by that idea. Would I wear that and… fuck you with it?"

"That's it exactly. Would you like to give it a go?"

"…I very much would."

You and Cygnus get the latter all strapped up. The human-made harness is a bit tight on them, but as Cygnus concedes, they have no circulation to cut off.

Cygnus looks more adorable with a dick than you expected! "Oh Cygnus, you look sweet as a little pie in that getup. It matches your shirt and tie so well!"

Cygnus is endearingly flustered by this kind of attention. "…I will take your word for it."

"I'd like you to lie on your back while I mount you. I'll grind on you and set the pace - think you can handle that?"

"I am willing to try for you, my friend." Cygnus flashes a shy smiling emoticon as they get into a supine position.

"Let's get you juiced up," you say as you apply lube to Cygnus's temporary dick. It amuses you to handle it teasingly, as though it's capable of feeling sensation ('like a dick made of dick' you think to yourself and then try not to giggle at. You're not sure how you'd explain to Cygnus why that sounded funny). "A couple more squirts for luck," you say as you finish applying the lube.

You direct Cygnus's position a bit more, then position your own self so you can lower yourself onto Cygnus's slick and purple glittery glans. You grasp their shaft to helpfully guide it into place, and Cygnus supports you with their hands where they can. You buck with excitement as Cygnus enters you, causing you to lose your alignment - you snort with amusement and line up again. Cygnus seems to have a better idea of what you're trying to achieve now, and shyly arches to meet you with a questing thrust. Oh god that's hot and adorable of them.

Some more jabbing and mis-aligned pushing occurs, provoking a torrent of worried apologies from Cygnus.

"It's okay, buddy," you reassure, "…Do you need to tap out?"

"…Do you?"

"No way, my friend, I'd absolutely love you to continue. Do you want to continue?"

"I do if you do."

"I truly do," you say as you try once more to sit on Cygnus's cock.

You're both reaching each other's wavelength a little more, and this time you manage to slide yourself on, feeling yourself burn with excited warmth as you're filled out and slickly spread. You arch and grind a little. "You doing okay under there?" Your voice is strained with your arousal.

"I'm just fine."

You continue your grinding, "You're a good sport. I realise this is a bit one-sided-" you stop to grunt out a snarl of pleasure, "-I'm having all the fun and you're just getting crushed."

"…I like seeing you this happy."

Oh! How sweet they are! You feel a flush of affection spreading to collide with your lust, sending fluttering ripples of joy throughout your body.

"If you wanted to make me happier still, I wouldn't say no to a bit more thrusting. If you feel up to it, would you try pushing your hips up to meet mine? Really grind against me."

Cygnus seems only too happy to oblige! The two of you fall out of rhythm a lot but Cygnus makes an endearingly valiant effort at keeping up with you. (The glittery purple dildo they're wearing is sure to become your new favourite just by association!) You find yourself clenching in an attempt to pleasure Cygnus's cock, forgetting in your excitement that it doesn't work that way.

"Hey, Cygnus? I'm getting close," you say, before pausing to snort with lust. You continue: "I should probably warn you about human orgasm because I expect it looks alarming if you don't know what's happening," You gasp a little as you continue to ride your friend, "Essentially, we can get worked up into such a state of ectasy and- ah! -frenzy of enjoyment that- ah!- we actually go into a small seizure for a brief period. In fact, we sometimes call this state the 'little-death'. Don't worry about it - if you see it, it means you did good!"

"Your warning is heeded." Cygnus responds, arching to meet your thrust. They're getting better at this.

(It probably helps, you realise, that your friend can see infra-red. Cygnus can probably see your loins getting hotter and more excited. What a happy thought!)

You proceed to grind harder on Cygnus as you rub your own glans more and more frantically. Cygnus caresses what parts of you they can reach. Your bulbs feel red-hot and effervescent. First your thighs and buttocks, then everything from your waist to your knees, feels as though it's being charged up with the electric juice that means your orgasm is coiling up to release.

You're so close.

You and Cygnus time your thrusts into each other.

You roar.

You shudder up and down Cygnus's purple glittery shaft until you can't take it any more, and lift yourself off. You flop down on the bed, your muscles utterly useless, and you ooze the remnants of the lube. (Maybe you hadn't needed to use quite that much.)

"Was that… your little-death?"

"eah." You make a grabby-hands motion at the box of tissues, which Cygnus passes to you.

"Shall I play you that video you like while you clean up? The one with the human shouting about grapefruit?"

"eah."

Cygnus plays the pre-apocalypse clip of comedian Greg Davies shouting in broken French "Où est le pamplemousse?!!" That shit never fails to make you guffaw! (And you're rather touched that your friend has kept it on their hard drive for you even though they have never understood why you find it funny.) Meanwhile, you finish with the tissues and help to unharness Cygnus. ("Non!" declares the recording of Davies.)

"I'm going to have a piss and a quick wash, then I'm going to change at least the top sheet on the bed," you say, "You okay to amuse yourself for a bit while I sort that out?"

"I'll help you with it. You finish cleaning; I will change your bedding."

"Cygnus, you're a fucking gem. I keep the bedding in that cupboard over yonder." You indicate the cupboard.

You complete your bio-break and change into a clean nightwear top. (It's too bad Cygnus's trousers will probably need extensive cleaning to remove the dried lube and your general undercarriage ooze. Dang. You're not sure there's anything you can do for them about that.) Cygnus is already lying on the freshly-changed bed, waiting for you to re-join them and resume cuddling. You gladly do so!

"Well, you've had some education in how humans fuck," you say as you snuggle your companion, "Can you tell me some more about what TVs do?"

"…I do feel a little strange bringing this up with a non-TV, especially a fleshform, but I trust you. …We oil and sharpen each other's wrist-blades, and spar with them. It is part of fucking for us, but it's also an activity to do with friends."

"Somewhat like the act of cuddling, you mean?"

"That is almost a fair comparison."

"May I look at the site where the blades pop out?"

Cygnus obligingly begins to roll up a sleeve to expose their wrist, and invites you to examine the exit aperture for their blade.

You can see some of Cygnus's unclothed arm-skin. It's mostly dark grey-black flexible plating, like aramid fibre, with circuitboard-like seams picked out in purple and darker black. Some small panels are translucent grey, enabling you to see bundles of machine 'muscle' fibre, black and purple and cabled, underneath the plating. Beads of dark purple light, barely visible, move up and down the muscle fibres - some beads zipping quickly, some oozing slowly. You also notice that the lining of Cygnus's clothing has a similar aramid fibre-like texture, with black, gold and purple wiring sewn throughout.

"May I touch?" you ask, indicating the exit slit.

"By all means."

You hold Cygnus' wrist in one hand while tracing the fingertips of your other hand near the aperture containing the protractile blade. You press down with your thumb gently and feel what must be the flat bulk of the concealed blade inside its sheath.

"Have I found it?"

"Yes, it's in there."

You continue exploring Cygnus's forearm through their clothes, applying gentle pressure with your thumbs. "Is there a failsafe to prevent the blade coming out when your palm is in its path?"

"Yes; I have to have my hand bent back to release the blade; the mechanisms are interlinked."

You've identified through your squeezing the part of the mechanism that controls the blade release. You rub at it with a thumb. "May I try?"

A very quiet static hiss comes from Cygnus's speakers; a sign of concern. You probably only hear it because you're used to Cygnus's mannerisms. "Please be careful."

You rotate your thumbs into position and press them down and towards Cygnus's hand, forcing their blade to shoot out of its socket, and Cygnus's wrist simultaneously bend to swing their hand away from the blade. Cygnus is becoming more audibly flustered at having their own blade deployed by someone else. Honestly, it's achingly adorable, but you hate the thought of upsetting your dear friend. "Are you doing okay?" You withdraw the pressure from your thumbs that was preventing the blade retracting, and pet-pat Cygnus's arm in what you hope is a comforting manner.

"I'm alright." Cygnus retracts their blade, and you stroke their arm a bit more.

"I'd like to see it again, if I may. Would you be okay with showing me?"

"Stay still, no sudden movements." Cygnus protracts the blade once more.

"May I touch the flat of it? I'll keep away from the edges, of course."

"You may."

You touch the flat of the blade with a fingertip, prompting another static crackle of concern.

"You seem a little more concerned about this than I expected, considering I do use knives as tools on the daily. Is everything alright, buddy?"

Cygnus retracts the blade. Quietly they say: "I hate the thought of hurting you with it."

Ohh. That's achingly sweet, that's adorable. You're moved by the sincerity of Cygnus' concern, and you give more arm-pats. "Didn't you say that you spar with these to bond with your pals?"

"Yes, but… that's not something I feel comfortable involving you in. Because-"

"Stop. It's okay. You don't have to explain your reasoning; you can just say no." You reach out to offer hand-holding, then "C'mere." You pull Cygnus into a hug.

You and Cygnus enjoy some minutes of hugs and headpats. Your head feels abuzz with how much affection you have for your companion! You've had such a lovely evening.

Cygnus indicates the bag from which you took the dildo and harness earlier. "Can I look inside your bag and see what else you have?"

"Please do!"

Cygnus looks through the bag at the various dildos, dilators, butt-plugs and enema-bulbs, until they find your plug-in wand vibrator. They pull it out with intrigue; it's the only one in your bag with a permanently attached mains power cable. "What is this one?"

"I've had that one since before the apocalypse! It's served me very well over the years! They were originally created as general muscle-massagers - and they are actually very good for that purpose - but achieved greater popularity once people discovered that they're pretty damn good to shove down your pants. Similar battery-powered ones exist, but this one's the real deal. It's got enough of a kick to it that it needs mains power."

"Could I try using it on you?"

"Abso-friggin-lutely, I love that thing!"

"…Could I try powering it for you?"

"I didn't know you could do that. Can you?"

Cygnus partially unbuttons their shirt and moves their tie aside. "We all have a charging point here, in a similar location to our Titans' cores. We can also make the connection flow the other way and power external devices." Cygnus indicates their charging point; a recessed area in what would be their sternum if they had a ribcage. "Luckily, that device's power requirements fall within the voltage I can emit."

"…Can I plug it in you?"

"Yes, go ahead."

You push the plug where indicated by Cygnus, who pulls back the cover on their charging socket. It looks as though their charging point has multiple permutations of holes that could take most human-made variants of mains plug. (You're impressed by the practicality and forward-thinking of the Alliance.)

"I'm gonna turn it on for a sec just so we can see how you hold up," you say, and push the scroll-wheel that controls the intensity. The wand vibrates beautifully, and you turn it back off. "How's that for you? You happy to power that for the time it takes to get me off?"

"I would love to."

"Don't forget to tap out if you need to. I don't want to drain your battery and have to drag your unconscious arse all the way to engineering and deal with their questions about how I made you use up all your juice in one evening."

"Please trust that I know my limits. …But thank you for your concern, my friend."

You give the plug in Cygnus's charging port a friendly pat, then hold up the wand like a concert mic. You strike a rock star pose then talk like a band frontman: "People often ask me: 'human, aren't you sick of playing this song?' And sometimes I wonder: 'Well, I have played it about 5,000 times'. But then I look at a crowd like this," you wave your 'microphone' to indicate Cygnus, who looks wryly amused, "and I think I'm ready for 5,001." You flick the wand on then jam it where you can grind on it.

You're not sure if you'll have the stamina to cum again after your earlier exertions mounting Cygnus, but for now it feels good. You frot yourself with the wand, changing the angle of it and bucking your hips into it. Cygnus watches with rapt fascination, idly stroking the charging cable coming out of their port.

You grind the wand against your undercarriage while working your prepuce against your glans. Your bulbs are starting to rev up again - you've probably got another orgasm in you if you handle yourself sweetly enough. It's making everything that much hotter knowing that Cygnus is supplying your wand's power (is it your imagination or its is little motor purring more happily than it normally does?), and that there's an unbroken line physically linking you to them, and that your friend has entrusted you to use up some of their power juice just for your sheer pleasure. How dear they are to you! How sweet!

"May I hold it for you?", asks Cygnus, twirling the power cable around a finger.

"I'd love you to!" you affirm. You'd love to receive such attention from Cygnus, and that would leave you with both hands free to work yourself. "See the scroll wheel? That controls the intensity - I might ask you to rev it up or down as we go. Can you handle that?"

"I am confident that is within my capabilities," Cygnus confirms as they accept the buzzing wand from you.

Cygnus attempts to copy your earlier movements, and you happily buck into the motion while rubbing yourself off. "Turn that up higher," you instruct.

In tandem, you and Cygnus grind yourself to a watery climax. It's not the most intense orgasm you've ever had, but it's enough to bring you home to a warm glow of satisfaction in your belly and loins. (Of course, you really wanted your first orgasms with Cygnus to be appropriately earth-shattering, but reality is rarely so obliging.)

"And the crowd goes home!" you laugh, continuing your cheesy rock star performance from earlier. You take the wand off Cygnus then do a 'mic drop' on the bed with it, and laugh again at your own wit. You keep giggling as you unplug it from Cygnus, and then move to button their shirt back up. Cygnus politely stops you - you're the one with your sweat and juice all over your fingertips, after all.

You perform a second round of cleanup, leaving the juice-coated wand on your personal workbench where it won't drip its mess anywhere important. You get back into bed to cuddle more with Cygnus.

You wrap yourself around your friend and give them a squeeze, prompting them to pull you closer still. "You've told me about transmission and knife-play," you begin, "Are there other TV fuck activities you could tell me about?"

"I do feel a little strange sharing this information with you…" Cygnus pauses to clasp your hand for reassurance, "But we engage in mutual hypnosis. We are normally immune to each other's powers, but we can consciously choose to be affected by it. We submit to each other as an expression of trust."

"…That sounds wonderfully intimate. You must need immense trust in each other to do that."

"That's exactly right." Cygnus gives you a gentle squeeze in recognition of your perspicacity.

"You know, Cygnus, I do trust you completely. …Would you be willing to let me experience that power of yours?"

"…Are you really sure?"

"Yes. I know you'll treat me nicely and you wouldn't make me do anything I wouldn't do un-hypnotised."

"…I will do my best to be worthy of that trust-"

"You already have."

"…I'm touched, my friend. You'd really let me do that with you even though you have no power to retaliate?"

"I already said yes, didn't I?"

"That you did. …You did acknowledge when I said I knew my own limits, so I will do you the same courtesy. Would you like me to begin now?"

"Show me what you got."

The two of you sit up, and Cygnus cups your head in their hands. Oh! That's lovely! Why have you not asked them to do that before?? You nuzzle and lean into their touch. Cygnus amusedly waits for you to stop and go back to facing forward.

"I can't tell you for sure what you will see or hear - it varies from viewer to viewer," explains Cygnus. "Essentially, you will perceive whatever you expect to perceive in this encounter."

You cluck happily to affirm your understanding.

You see Cygnus's screen turning a soothing yet intense purple. It's so pretty; you're enraptured. Even when you blink, you feel you can still see that warm rich purple, as though it's stained your optic nerves. It fills your vision, cascading outwards in spiralling columns from your foveas. It is purple, then magenta and purple, then purple and magenta and violet, and the spiralling columns roll into synchronisation and form a tunnel stretching in front of you to infinity. It is all you see. You try dipping your head slightly to feel the touch of Cygnus's hands on your face, but you feel nothing. You don't feel much of anything at all.

You float. You're suspended in the purple-and-magenta-and-violet void. Is this home?

How long have you been here? Have you ever been anywhere else? Did you birth this void? Are you creating the world in which you will soon be born?

"Human, you have done well."

Whose voice is it? It is everywhere and nowhere. But it's speaking the truth; you are absolutely certain. Is it the voice of the universe? Is it you?

"I have done well."

You affirm. You are making words happen but you aren't conscious of verbalising them, and you do not hear yourself speak. You just know the words are there and the other voice hears them.

"No, I have done very well."

"Yes, you have done very well;
We are glad you are here with us."

"Where am I?"

"You are still here;
You were always here and never left;
You are doing well;
You see sense;
You have done well and we are pleased."

You feel your inhibitions fall away and dissolve. This is your new home; this void. It is everything and it is you and you are it.

"I would do anything for you;
I will kill for you;
I will die for you."

"Do not die;
If you die where will we go?"

"I will not die.

You affirm. Then you continue:

Is this love?
I am in you and you are in me;
I am everything and I am you;
I will do anything for you;
I will break myself and remould myself in your image;
I will tear apart our enemies and paint your name in their blood."

"Do not break yourself. Remain. Coagulate;
We love you just the way you are;
We always have;
We are so glad we can share this with you even if for only a short time."

"Only a short time;
I am sad it is only a short time;
When will it happen again?"

"Do not be sad;
We love you;
It always happened and never stopped and never will;
We love you;
We only wish we could know you the way you know us right now."

An endless wave breaks over you.

"Human, we have a question for you."

Who is 'human'? Oh yeah, that's you, isn't it. You have a body and everything. You are the universe observing itself, but you do have a finite vessel for that.

"What is it?"

"Où est le pamplemousse?!!"

You're snapped back to reality as Cygnus stops beaming their hypnotic ray and plays you that Greg Davies video. You feel utterly disoriented for a second - like the butterfly that dreamed it was a human - then you laugh happily at the silliness of what just happened… then laugh some more at Greg Davies badly speaking French. It's a good palate-cleanser that prevents you from thinking too hard about the implications of what you saw in the void.

"Why is that so funny?" asks Cygnus once the video ends.

"Oh hell, it's everything. It's the fact that he's so pointlessly angry about it, it's the word 'pamplemousse', it's the terrible pronunciation, it's the fact that Greg says 'Il y a dans le bibliothèque' instead of 'C'est dans la bibliothèque'. There's just nothing about it that isn't funny."

"…I see. Well, no, I still don't. But I like that you like it."

You think about what the void said: 'We only wish we could know you the way you know us right now'. Did Cygnus say that? Did anyone say that? Did you conjure it from the void yourself?

Cygnus continues: "What did you see or hear in there? Some viewers perceive nothing at all the first time."

"…I don't know"

"A very common response."

"I perceived a voice… that wasn't a voice. I perceived an entity, let's say. I think it was me. Or you. Or both of us and neither at the same time. Probably it was something my brain invented to verbalise what I thought should be happening."

"That is interesting; not many viewers perceive words on their first trip. Can you recall what it said?"

"It loved me, I think. And then and there, I loved it back. I think it wished I could do to it what it was doing to me."

Cygnus looks taken aback by your analysis. You reckon it was more detailed than they expected to hear.

"I think…", Cygnus begins, "that last part was a manifestation of what I was thinking. I am happy you trust me enough to let me use my powers of hypnosis on you… and it does make me wish I could experience it from you. I think I would enjoy… surrendering to you. Being mentally surrounded." Cygnus squeezes your hand.

You gaze fondly at your friend and pat their monitor casing. A germ of an idea forms. "I've got a little idea. Would you let me move behind you and try something out?"

"…Proceed."

You move behind Cygnus and hug them from behind, prompting a happy pattern of clicks from them. You bring your face in close to the back of Cygnus's monitor casing, then place your lips over some of their ventilation holes. You exhale, flooding Cygnus's monitor casing with hot mammal breath and displacing the ambient air within. Cygnus emits an excited bark of static noise at this sensation - and you do it again, your warm breath coating the back of the glass envelope of Cygnus's cathode ray tube and suffusing their whole head-casing with your warmth. Cygnus emits more static and delighted clicks. As you pull away, they snap-rotate their head 180 degrees to face you - and you see that Cygnus's screen is stuck on its test-card pattern and their vertical hold is completely slipping.

"Human, that feels wonderful!! Do it again until I pass out, please!!"

(You suspect Cygnus would be displaying elated emoticons right now if only they could get enough of a grip on themself to exit test-card mode.)

You gently push Cygnus's head to prompt them to rotate it back around, then you repeat your actions from before, playfully forcing Cygnus to focus on nothing but your presence in their head. Cygnus tries to pet your hands that are embracing them from behind, but are too dazed and blissfully overwhelmed to put anything into it beyond some perfunctory scrabbling. You're delighted by the effect you're having on your dear friend, but you hope they've had enough of it before you end up too out of breath. You nuzzle the back of Cygnus's casing, making them shudder with anticipation, then lean into them to forcefully blast your hot breath all over their cathode ray tube and focusing coils.

Cygnus emits a crackling burst of joyful static, then suddenly slams their hands onto the mattress either side of them, gripping hard, and deploys their knives in ecstasy.

Cygnus's static changes to a disappointed tone. "…I'm very sorry I did that with my blades, they intone sombrely, quietly retracting them with a decisive click. "That was a shameful loss of control."

You wonder what you should say to Cygnus to reassure them, then you suddenly realise: "Oh, look at that. You've cut me some holes so I can fuck my mattress! Thank you!" You crease and dissolve into guffaws at your own humour.

"…You are breathtakingly awful sometimes, human."

You cackle. "Wait, you don't breathe to begin with." You wheeze and then sob with mirth at this stupid exchange.

Cygnus rotates their head 180 degrees to regard you with a dubious emoticon (their face is now back to normal). "Quite. That's how breathtaking your awfulness is."

"Oh lord. Cygnus, you actually made a joke!"

"Don't get too used to it."

You wheeze with stupid laughter, then rein it in. "Cuddle?"

"That's the most sensible thing you've said in the last 10 seconds."

You both settle down for some lying-down cuddling, holding each other close.

"That time we first hugged and held hands inside the Titan's core…" you begin, "I thought 'I could love you'. I thought to myself: 'I don't love you just yet because I don't know you well enough, but given more time in your company, I will probably end up loving you.' And that's exactly what's happened. Sincerely: I love you, Cygnus. I really do. And I'm glad we're friends." You squirm affectionately and nuzzle the underside of Cygnus's monitor casing.

Cygnus squeezes you and wraps their upper body around you. "I love you too, human."

You feel so relaxed and yet buzzing with joy. What a dear friend you found at the end of the world.

"I am sorry about your mattress and bedding." says Cygnus.

"Don't be; I'm sure I have the tools and skills to fix it. Besides, 'shit happens', right? That's what you TVs like to say."

"Shit happens." Cygnus concedes.

You both fall into a snooze - you in dreamless dozing and Cygnus carrying out defragmentation on a few partitions of their hard drive.

As you both re-awaken and resume cuddling, Cygnus floats an idea: "I have not given any planning to this idea at all, but… assuming I could get us the privacy and the Titan consented… what if we repeated some of this-" Cygnus's voice is getting shyer-sounding, "inside the Titan's core chamber?"

"Oh GOD, Cygnus, STOP - I can only get so erect!"