The Machine

The Spacemaster Pleasure Crafter X8000 was a very intimidating piece of equipment, despite its rainbowed appearance. It was large, taking up most of the craft table that Spunk had set up in the back office. And it was loud when it fired up, full of buzzing and bumps and whirring noises that vaguely reminded Spunk of the objects it was supposed to create.

The real magic was in the program he had loaded into Amalyn, however. The SPCX was just a machine, and he needed another machine to give it directions. Amalyn, as his cutting edge shop robot supercomputer, was the perfect overseer.

How it worked was simple enough, in theory. A customer used the bathroom, fitting room, their personal vehicle, or some other private space to create a mold. The mold could be around an external object, or inside an internal object. The kits, of course, were different depending on the purpose.

Then, they brought the finished mold to Spunk, who would insert it into the reading chamber on the left edge of the machine. The machine would use lasers and fancy modeling to recreate the structure -- innie, or outie, depending -- as a model in the computer. Then, the right edge of the machine used the customer's choice of material -- high or low grade silicone, cyberskin, and other, newer materials on the market -- to create the finished piece. A fully custom silicone model of someone's junk, complete with optional vibration, fluid ejection, or both. The end of whatever was created could also be crafted to attach to some of the more popular self pleasure machines on the market.

The only piece that was missing for Spunk to test the system out, was the mold for it to read. As a single man himself, he wasn't quite sure that he wanted to mold his own junk. That would be an awkward first or second-date gift to his next beau. He could, he supposed, use some of the schematics out there on the internet, but he had really gotten the machine for its customization features, not for its ability to make dragon dicks on demand.

But seeing as Harold wasn't coming in that day, and his customers were probably less willing to trial dick molding... dragon dicks it was.

"Hey, Amalyn, are you ready to try out that new program yet?" Spunk asked the sky and waited for it to answer.

"Yes, Peter." Her voice came from nowhere and everywhere all at once. "Do you have a mold ready?"

"No, Amalyn... can you please browse the schematic library for dragon penises and let me know what you find?"

"The top five results are: Diamond Dragon Curved Plus, Broad Base Fiery Dragon Dong With Sperm Applicator, Really Big Fucking Dragon Dick, Simple Pleasures Dragon Genitalia, and the Dragon X 5000. Would you like to use one of those?"

She sounded so methodical. He stifled a giggle. Sometimes it set off her learning algorithms and it made for a grumpy robot. On a whim, he asked, "Do you have a recommendation?"

He wasn't sure if the question would break her. Ideally, her programming would do searches of each and pick the one with the most favorable words in results; or, if that failed, take a random number. But he hadn't really tested it in a real world situation before, and it was definitely a newer module that he had installed. He was surprised and pleased when she responded in detail.

"Based on searches, I would recommend the Broad Base Fiery Dragon Dong With Sperm Applicator. It has good reviews and its unique, interactive nature leaves women and men alike pleased." He could tell that the latter part of the sentence was a quote from some website, but it sounded natural and he loved it.

"Great, let's go with the Broad Base Fiery Dragon Dong, then."

"Did you want the Broad Base Fiery Dragon Dong schematic with or without sperm applicator?" Amalyn asked with business-like precision and he stifled a giggle once again. It was hard to be serious in the sexy time business.

"With. Definitely with." He said and the machine in front of him whirred into action.

"I expect that the Broad Base Fiery Dragon Dong With Sperm Applicator will complete production in approximately forty eight minutes, and will be ready for use in approximately four hours after a thorough cleaning." Amalyn said.

Spunk watched with fascination as the holographic representation of the dildo appeared above the unit. The holograph was a totally unnecessary feature for the machine to operate, but he had shelled out the extra money. He figured that it would be part of the customer experience when customers decided to make their own toys.

The toy was thick -- the "broad base" piece of the name, most likely -- with curves and divets that would impress the most ornate dildo manufacturers out there. It was certainly a creative take on a mythical creature's genitalia. The base had a curved appendage behind the main one, most likely a g-spot stimulator, although Spunk couldn't be sure. Maybe it was just adding to the appeal. The holograph's colors weren't super bright, but he could tell that it would come out a mix of red, green, and black silicone, with a bright pink "head" at the tip of the apparatus, and a generous opening -- probably for the fluid. It also had a hole at the base for the fluid pump, sold separately, to be inserted.

All in all, it was an impressive beast if it came out half as cool as the holograph appeared. Spunk felt a tingle of excitement run through his body. It had been a long time since he had felt this excited about a new toy. Or rather, a new toy maker.

"Thank you Amalyn." He said, albeit a bit tardily. "How many minutes until the store is supposed to open?"

"Twenty three." Amalyn responded, and Spunk sighed. He pushed out from the table and stood up from the wheeled chair he had been sitting in. It was time to get things ready and go to work.

The zealots were still stationed outside. They had been there for five days now, a new record for the store. He hadn't interacted with the girl, Molly, again, but wondered if she was interested at all in escaping her life of religious servitude.

He unlocked the door a few minutes early and took a seat behind the desk. He typed in "Lightbringers" into the search engine, determined to find out more about his current set of protestors.

The top result was pretty bland.

The Lightbringers are a sect of Old Earth Pentecostalism, who believe that their historical figure Jesus has not yet come back to rescue them because of existing sin in the world. Lightbringers are easily identified by their traditional Old Earth dress and travel primarily as missionaries in family groups with strict gendered roles.

Yeah. No shit. Spunk thought as he scrolled past a few conspiracy theory hits and into the good stuff.

The Lightbringers rely on a mixture of Old Earth Sacred Scripts and current missionary logs to craft their beliefs. For example, if a Lightbringer missionary unit notes a lot of infidelity in a specific place, scriptures are more or less generated on the fly to minister to folks on those planets. Planet-specific scripture is said to come from God and the Universe, but is driven by male head-of-households and their understanding of a current system's culture.

Lightbringers are notoriously nomadic, often driven out of places for their inflammatory signs, but in the spirit of many Old Earth missionary traditions, rely on donations of food, fuel, and other supplies to do their work. It is unknown how much wealth the Lightbringers organization holds and grows compared to how much wealth new Lightbringers bring to the table. Interestingly, many Lightbringer missionaries are often disgruntled and morally vague rich who've had spiritual awakenings.

Spunk wondered if "morally vague" was the preferred term for spoiled rich brats going through midlife crises. He then wondered if Molly's father had been one of those. Had missionary work killed her mother? There was so much to learn.

Why are you so interested in these ones? He wondered to himself. You know there will be a new set in here next week. But he wasn't so sure. This was the longest that protestors had stayed in his parking lot in quite some time. They were awfully dedicated, and not horribly unpleasant. They had even gotten over coming into the shop to use the bathroom or beg a bottle of water off of Spunk occasionally -- although the father usually sent Molly in to do it. He hadn't caught sight nor sound of the boy children since he had said "no minors" to the father.

The door clattered open and Spunk looked up from his thoughts to see Molly standing before him. Her sundress looked worn and frayed at the edges. Her hair tied back into two simple braids. She smiled at him, still incredibly shy. He noticed her eyes were glued to him. She was trying desperately to avoid looking at something that might bend her little mind.

"Hey, Molly." He said warmly. "What can I do for you?"

She met his eyes for the first time -- she had been staring at his chest before -- and swallowed. "I need your help."

Previous Chapter: Recovering A Spell
Next Chapter: Scarlet Letter
Go Home: Go To Title Page