My Savior 🔞 ( Part One )

Too much

Shopping has always been one of my weird guilty pleasures. While the other guys in my life whined and moaned about it, I found it calming. Therapeutic, even. And now that I had someone to dress up like a personal doll, it was even more fun.

Miles stepped out from the fitting room, wearing the white flannel shirt and moss green trousers I picked. The shirt? Perfect. The pants?

"Hideous," I said flatly. "Change the pants."

He didn’t argue. Just nodded and disappeared. In a minute, he came back in soft wool trousers. Much better.

“Yeah, that’s more like it. Keep the shirt, we’re buying it. Next combo.”

He tried on a navy blue collared shirt with cream-colored pants. When he stepped out, my mouth went dry. The shirt was unbuttoned just enough to make me forget what breathing was.

“Damn. Okay, that’s a win too. Show me the next pair of pants.”

“Will, you’re spending way too much money on someone who doesn’t even need clothes.”

I rolled my eyes. Not this again.

“You’ve been wearing the same damn uniform since I got you. I’m doing society a favor here.”

He sighed and went back in. The next trousers were a light beige—one of my favorite colors. But when he walked out in them, something seemed off. He squirmed like a guy who sat on a cactus.

“…they’re tight,” he muttered, clearly uncomfortable.

“Turn around,” I said.

He hesitated, then did. And I realized immediately why he didn’t want to.

Oh.

Okay, so maybe I had good taste. The fabric hugged his hips a little too well. It should be illegal to give a robot curves like that.

“We’re still getting it,” I said, voice a little raspier than I intended. “Now go change.”

“I don’t have a choice, so… as you wish.”

I felt a pang of guilt. Was I really doing this for him—or for me?

I waited a second. Then followed him to the fitting room. He was already pulling the pants down when I stepped inside.

“Will, I’m nearly—”

I pressed my finger to his lips.

My heart was hammering. I didn’t know why I was doing this, just that I had to. I didn’t want to force anything, but I needed to see if he felt it too.

“You have free will,” I whispered. “If you don’t want this… say so.”

He didn’t speak. His breath hitched slightly—fake or not, I felt it. I leaned closer. Pressed my forehead to his.

"You… you shouldn’t look like this. Mostly because you're… male,” I murmured, voice shaking.

He didn't stop me when my hand reached up to fix his shirt. He didn't stop me when I kissed him again.

And this time, he kissed me back.

Not with hunger. Not with heat. But with something softer. Like he was learning me. Accepting me. I didn't know how long we stood there, wrapped in a moment that shouldn’t have happened, but did. And when we finally broke apart, he kept his arms around my waist.

"Did I do well?" he whispered.

I couldn't help the chuckle that slipped out.

“Yeah… you did.”

I didn’t know who I was anymore. And I didn’t care.

---

Later, we were at KFC, my tray loaded with chicken wings. I was smiling like an idiot, until I heard it.

Her laugh.

Lorette.

She was with friends, pointing at me. Laughing. I froze.

"Miles,” I muttered, panic rising. “Get up. We’re leaving.”

Too late.

She was already walking toward us with her little clique.

“This is the guy?” one of her friends said. “Can’t blame him. He’s hot.”

I gritted my teeth.

“Christine! Seriously? He’s not even real!”

“They were kissing,” Lorette said, loud and dramatic. “In public. My boyfriend and this… thing!”

The girls erupted in mocking laughter.

“Ew. Gay!” another one sneered. “I knew Will was.”

My stomach twisted. I could barely breathe.

“You shouldn’t have crossed me,” Lorette spat. “I loved you, and you chose a damn machine over me. A real girl!”

Everything inside me screamed to run—but I couldn’t move.

Miles, however, stood up calmly. Protective. Like a wall between me and their words.