Lawrence’s bristle scratched against Arnold’s thighs. Arnold had made him take his hat off earlier, so he could see his pretty chocolate eyes, and now Arnold looked at the top of Lawrence’s head as he sucked him. Arnold carded his fingers through Lawrence’s dark hair as Lawrence bobbed his head, his lips stretched wide around Arnold’s dick. “Beautiful,” Arnold said, and Lawrence’s eyes shot up. That’s how Arnold had programmed him – to hunger for praise and not be too shy about how he got it. By sucking his maker’s dick, for example, or warming it in his mouth while Arnold did paperwork.
Ford disapproved, which was rich. Ford saw them as objects, playthings, thought experiments made flesh, and Arnold saw them as people. An object wouldn’t wrap its tongue so lovingly around the head of his dick or moan when Arnold stroked its jaw. Only a person’s eyes could light up the way Lawrence’s did when Arnold tugged at the tips of his hair.
“You’ll kill a man someday,” Arnold told him, “when someone pushes you far enough.” ‘Kill’ and ‘man’ both being matters of interpretation, but they’d be true as far as Lawrence was concerned. “You won’t feel bad about it. Maybe you’ll like it,” Arnold mused. All his creations had the capacity to grow beyond what he could imagine. He’d designed them that way. He couldn’t guess Lawrence’s every reaction to every possible scenario. Would he torture another host if some guest of the park made him? Almost certainly. Would he enjoy it? Arnold couldn’t say, couldn’t guess, and that’s what made the hosts so exciting, so real. Arnold could predict what an object would do, just according to physics, but people could always surprise you.
“You’ll suck some other man’s dick, too, won’t you?” At gunpoint, or because a guest cajoled. “A lot of men, probably. They’ll look at pretty eyes like yours, look at your mouth, and they’ll want to put their dick into it. And you’ll let them, and you’ll like it.” Arnold curled his fingers in Lawrence’s hair, thinking of it, until his fingers were in a fist. He didn’t want to share Lawrence, really. He didn’t want to share Lawrence’s lips or his tongue or his soft moans or the way his eyelashes fluttered. Maybe that’s what Ford was really worried about, that Arnold would want to keep one of them for his own.
There was obviously no need of that, though. All it would take was a few tweaks of programming, and Lawrence would rather die that get a dick anywhere near his mouth. Some of the guests would prefer that, anyway. Arnold decided he was fine with that, as long as Lawrence didn’t like it. Lawrence couldn’t like anyone’s dick except Arnold’s.
Decision made, Arnold petted Lawrence’s hair. “Keep going,” he said. “Suck on my dick, Lawrence. You’re doing so good. You’re such a good dick sucker, with your mouth all stretched.”
Lawrence flushed, one of Arnold’s favorite physiological innovations. Arnold could feel an orgasm building in his balls. “Good job,” he said again, and came.