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“Y’know, most models have some professional body shots in their portfolios,”
“What?” Connor blinked, adjusting his position on the stool. His LED spun yellow. He’d already been on edge; contacting a stranger to help him out with his portfolio was a stressful endeavor. Going to said stranger’s home to have a small shoot was worse. It was legitimate enough that Connor didn’t back out, though. The garage had been converted to a small studio for the photographer, and it looked clean and properly maintained. Headshots had been all they’d agreed on; Connor wasn’t prepared for more.
The photographer, a human man named Hank, put his camera on the table behind him and crossed his arms. “You’re trying to put together a good portfolio so an agency will pick you up, right?”
“Yeah, I am,” Connor replied.
“Well, you have to sort of… show your range,” Hank waved his hand vaguely. “You’ve already got an advantage since you’re a unique model, but a few headshots won’t cut it if you’re serious about this,”
Connor bristled at the implication he wouldn’t be taking this seriously. “What did you have in mind?” He asked.
Hank shrugged. “Nothing crazy. Just a few poses to give an agency a full view of what they’re working with,”
“I don’t…” Connor could feel the modicum of confidence he’d worked up fizzling. He’d started all this on a whim, and he was really good at pretending he knew what he was doing. At least, most of the time.
“You’re already dressed for it,” Hank said. “It wouldn’t take too long,”
Connor worried the hem of his shirt. He was dressed in business casual, but in a way that he hoped came across as modern and sleek rather than stuffy and boring. Hank seemed to approve of it, so— “Alright, we’ll do it,”
“Good, good,” Hank said. “Just do your thing. Use the stool as a prop, too. Should come out nice if you know your stuff,”
Connor did as he was told— some easy poses, a few with his foot up on the rung of the wooden stool to make an interesting silhouette. He would have to admit that Hank was right; he was sure these images would look great in his portfolio, which would only bolster his chances to get picked up by an agency.
After a few minutes, Hank stepped back and looked at Connor, furrowing his brow and wrinkling his nose.
“Y’know…” Hank started.
“What?”
“Listen, this has been real good. I think you’re a natural, show some real promise,”
“Thank you,” Connor beamed.
“And I think— for the sake of your portfolio, for your career — I’d like to do a bit more with you today, if you’re amicable,”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I did say body shots earlier… I think showing some skin would be good. A little risqué, show you’ve got some edge, y’know?” Hank shrugged nonchalantly.
“Showing some skin?” Connor asked, meekly.
“Yeah, like—“ Hank walked over to Connor, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. “Take this off, and we’ll take a few pics. Pants too, after,”
Connor pulled away abruptly, covering the button Hank had been toying with. “I don’t— I don’t see any reason I should need to undress,”
“What’re you gonna do if you get hired to model underwear?” Hank asked. “Models have to be comfortable with people seeing their body. It’s their job,” He sighed. “Listen, I’m just looking out for you, ‘s all. You’re a real nice kid and you’re pursuing something you like. I just want to give you the best shot,”
“But—”
“Range, Connor. Your portfolio needs to show range,”
“I know that!” Connor blustered. “I just— maybe I should come back with a change of clothes?”
Hank nodded his head thoughtfully. “Y’know, if you’re open to it… I do have a couple things other models left here on accident you could try out. So you don’t have to leave and come back. Would be real convenient,”
Connor nodded. “Alright,”
Hank grinned. “Okay, you stay put. I’ll go grab what I’ve got and you can pick what you like,”
Connor watched Hank leave the room, and sat back on the stool. He looked around, trying not to overthink what was happening. Things had all seemed on the up and up when Connor first had talked to Hank, but… he was starting to feel uneasy. He tried to chalk it up to his own inexperience, rather than Hank being some level of unprofessional. Connor was sure Hank had a point, after all. A portfolio should show any prospective agency why he was worth it. And a lot of models did shoots in more revealing clothes.
As uncomfortable as he felt, he had to push through. He wanted this, even if he didn’t love the way it felt. Connor rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the stress in his mechanical joints. This was routine— he just wasn’t used to it yet.
Though he still jumped when Hank came back in, boisterous as ever.
“Alright I got a few good options here. I think you should take a look at all of them before you pick any. I mean, we could do more than one, if you wanted,” He shoved an armful of fabric into Connor’s hands, and Connor’s LED spun yellow while he tried to make sense of it.
The mix of fabrics felt nice against his synthskin; he could detect <<lace>> on his fingers and <<silk>> on his wrist. He walked over to the table where Hank had left his camera and set the pile down to pick out some of the pieces.
“Thank you, Hank,” Connor said.
“No problem, kid,” Hank replied, a grin on his face.
Connor started to go through the pile, looking at each piece individually. The first was a tacky sequin shirt, an absolute eyesore of a piece. That made Connor smile. But the next had his LED spinning yellow, and by the time he was through with the pile he was solidly in the red.
Most of the items were underwear. Lingerie, to be more exact. Lacy, silky, pretty to be sure— but not anywhere near appropriate, in Connor’s mind.
“I’m not sure I’d like to wear any of these,” Connor said. “Thank you for being so… generous, but I think perhaps we should wrap up?”
Hank wrinkled his nose. “I thought you were serious about this,” He said. “It’s a shame you aren’t but that’s okay. This line of work isn’t for everyone,”
“What?”
“I’m just saying,” Hank shrugged. “If you were serious you wouldn’t let a little discomfort stop you from putting together a good portfolio,”
“I don’t think this —” Connor gestured to a thong that was sitting on top of the pile. “—is necessary for that,”
Hank laughed, the sound low. “I suppose you’d know, right? Rookie?” He clapped Connor on the shoulder. “It’s really not a big deal. We’re both professionals here. At least I thought so…” Hank trailed off.
Connor bristled, offended that once again, Hank was bringing into question how serious he was about his work. “Of course we are,” Connor said. “But—“
“So pick an outfit or two,”
“Hank—“
“It’s what every other model does, Connor,”
The words hung heavy in the air; Connor supposed Hank was right, in some sense. How many advertisements had he seen, from posters in storefronts to billboards along the highways, that featured models in some state of undress? Every other model has had this experience, he thought. Maybe he couldn’t be taken seriously until he went through with it as well. And at the very least, Hank would be the only witness to his embarrassment. It would be so much worse for his first experience undressing for the camera to be during a bigger shoot, with more staff behind the camera and higher stakes.
“Alright,” Connor said, quietly. “Let me pick something out,”
Connor sorted once more through the pile, and picked the only two things he thought might flatter him. He hurried to the bathroom to change. He was thankful that Hank made no fuss about him wanting privacy.
Connor smoothed his hands down the front of his shirt before he started to unbutton it, as if that would ward off the wrinkles that were sure to come. He sighed, starting to undress methodically. Connor looked in the mirror at himself while he did— he felt so unsure of himself, and even more so once he put the skimpy items on. He didn’t have the bust to fill out the corset top properly, and the panties weren’t quite the right color to go with it— but when he came back out, Hank seemed pleased.
“We can fix some of it in post,” He said, waving off Connor’s concerns. “Just try and pose nice for me, okay?”
“O—okay…” Connor said. He sat on the stool, stiff as a board. He posed, trying to display an air of confidence, as if he really knew what he was doing.
He got the sense he was failing, though. Trying to intuit what he should do wasn’t working for him, his posing falling flat because of his discomfort. Connor’s LED ran yellow while he pulled up images of other models, analyzing the way they’d pose in a similar setup so he could emulate them. Connor forced himself to try a new pose, one he hoped would look striking— but the pose didn’t look natural or easy on him. He looked more like a piece of plastic than a person, and he knew how many humans would look at him and say the same thing. Hank snapped some pictures before pulling back and his brows pinched and a frown on his face.
“See, this is exactly why I suggested we do this,” He said. “You look terrible right now,”
“Terrible…?” Connor’s voice hitched.
“I mean, you look so… you look like you’re trying too hard to relax,” Hank scratched his beard, his eyes roaming over Connor’s form.
“We just need you to loosen up,” Hank said. “I think I can help with that,”
Hank put his camera down, walking over to Connor. Connor tensed, resisting the urge to cover himself. He felt as though he were under intense scrutiny, Hank’s eyes roving over him.
“You androids ain't much different from us,” Hank said. “Hold tension in your joints like us. Little pressure will work that right out, darlin’.”
Connor nearly jumped out of his seat when Hank started to touch him. “What are you doing?” He asked, the last word giving way to static.
“Did I startle you? Sorry. Just tryin’ to help you relax. I’ll be done real quick, and we can get back to work, okay?”
Connor did not feel okay. “...Go on,” he mumbled.
Hank put his hands on Connor’s shoulders and grinned. Connor wasn’t sure that what he was doing would actually help very much, but the sooner Hank started, the sooner Hank would finish. Calloused hands worked his shoulders, the nape of his neck, and quickly moved down to his exposed back. Hank worked over the skimpy corset, though Connor didn’t feel as though it provided any barrier at all. In fact, the feel of lace pressing against his synthskin was almost worse than bare hands, the way it dragged against him, demanding he pay attention to where he was being touched.
He didn’t like the way it made him feel, Hank’s hands rubbing his back. There was no familiarity between them, nothing to make it comfortable. Hank was almost a perfect stranger to him, and yet he was sliding his hands down Connor’s back, trying to ease his tension. And, worryingly, he was starting to move his hands lower and lower as he worked.
Connor got the sense Hank would start rubbing his waist, then his hips, and then finally move in on his crotch. The idea of this man rubbing his clothed sex made him shift uncomfortably on his stool— and his squirming was met with Hank’s firm grip.
“Stay still for me,” Hank rasped, close enough that Connor could feel the warm breath on his ear. He didn’t reply, but tried to follow that simple direction. Even as Hank’s fingers brushed the tops of his thighs.
“Are you done?” Connor asked.
Hank rested his hands flat on the top of Connor’s thighs. “Not quite. You still seem tense as anything,”
“I’m not sure this will fix tha— AH!” Connor stiffened, feeling fingers probing at his clothed mound.
“This’ll do the trick,” Hank murmured, pressing his fingers down and trapping the fabric of the panties between Connor’s folds.
“Don’t do that!” Connor said.
“Do what?” Hank asked. “There’s a couple things I’m doing right now. Please be more specific,”
Connor opened his mouth to protest some more, but Hank grabbed the gusset of his panties and yanked them to the side, exposing Connor’s pussy. All the protest died in his throat when he realized he was suddenly bare between his legs.
Hank wasted no time exploring the newly exposed flesh, from dipping his finger into Connor’s hole to toying with his clit. Slick sounds filled the air, and Connor realized with some horror that his body had started its lubrication protocols. As if he was preparing to be fucked by the man behind him, as if he wanted it.
“S-stop,” Connor gasped, feeling Hank’s fingers rubbing against his clit.
“‘M just trying to loosen you up. Stop fighting me,” Hank said, his voice low. Connor grabbed Hank’s wrist, but he felt powerless to pull the hand away from his pussy. Connor jolted when he felt one of Hank’s fingers slip inside him.
“You— you can’t —” Connor gasped, squeezing his thighs together. His protest only seemed to spur Hank on, moving his hand faster while he touched Connor.
“You gotta relax, boy,” Hank said. “Let it happen,”
Connor was nowhere near prepared to let it happen but he didn’t have a choice. Hank’s expert touch was quickly driving him to that edge. He could feel it in his wires, liquid fire in his sensors as his body tensed— Hank used his other hand to yank the flimsy corset top down and pinch his nipple, and it was over for Connor. He arched back, leaning into the human behind him as he came. Connor couldn’t hear himself moan while his cunt spasmed, clenching down on Hank’s fingers.
Connor let his weight rest on Hank for the moment it took to come back to himself. He took no note of Hank pulling his fingers out of his pussy, or fixing his panties. But as soon as he did, he slammed his legs together, ignoring the way his abused clit was still twitching. He hunched over, pulling the corset top back up, and tried not to notice that Hank was wiping his slick off onto his jeans.
Hank seemed so unaffected by what he’d just done, as if he’d just adjusted the lighting rather than playing with his pussy.
“You— you—” Connor stammered, confusion, fear, and anger coursing through him.
“I what?” Hank asked, raising an eyebrow.
“You made me—” Connor squeezed his eyes shut; his cunt still hadn’t stopped throbbing from his orgasm. “You had no right, I told you to stop!”
“Listen kid, you want these pictures or not?” Hank asked. “I’m doing you a favor, taking these shots at no cost to you. Show some gratitude, christ,” Hank readied his camera once again. “You should be good and loosened up now. So go on, pose! You’ll do great,”
Connor slouched on the stool, feeling defeated. He needed the pictures for his portfolio. And he hated it, but Hank was right. He felt boneless and unreal; surely he could strike some interesting poses now. “Just a few more…” He mumbled, standing up again.
He wasn’t sure if he was actually doing any good at that point, but Hank didn’t stop to try and correct his pose or give any advice, so he had to assume he looked decent. And decent would have to do. Connor was thankful that Hank hadn’t suggested any more costume changes; the rest of the clothes Hank had offered were more like scraps than they were clothes.
Finally, Hank took a step back.
“We’re taking the last ones, now,” Hank said. “Just one more little change I want to make,”
Hank closed the space between the two of them while he fiddled with his camera, presumably changing some settings. Connor tensed at the proximity, but Hank seemed to be occupied with his equipment. Connor felt that he was unlikely to try anything. He hoped so, at least. The worst had to be over after that… performance. Hank mumbled something to Connor that he couldn’t make out, much to his chagrin and in spite of his advanced auditory processors.
“What was that?” Connor asked.
Hank didn’t reply. Instead, he swiftly hooked a finger into the waistband of the panties Connor was wearing and tugged them down. They fell to the floor, pooling at Connor’s feet.
“Hey—!” Connor yelped. Hank pushed him back onto the stool, quickly taking a few pictures. Connor snapped his legs closed as fast as he could, but he didn’t know if he’d been fast enough to keep Hank from capturing a picture of his used pussy. Hank shoved his hand between Connor’s thighs, trying to gain access to his crotch.
“Open up, pretty boy. We need these pictures,” Hank ordered. Connor tried to push his hand away, then grabbed Hank’s wrist and yanked hard, trying to make it all stop. It was no help; he could still feel Hank’s fingers trying to force their way into his cunt again.
“Stop trying to touch me!” Connor yelled, trying to stand up. Standing up gave Hank the in he needed, and as Connor’ feet settled flat on the floor, he felt Hank’s hand push up hard against his crotch, and two fingers being forced inside him. They slipped in so easily, with how wet Connor was from what Hank had already done.
Connor groaned, jolting back and tripping over his own feet. He hit the floor hard, his hip taking the brunt of the blow. He turned onto his knees to push himself up, but he felt the sole of Hank’s shoe on his back, forcing him onto the floor. Errors popped up in Connor’s vision, and the sound of the camera going off rang in his ears.
Hank kicked his legs apart, using the top of his shoe to rub his exposed pussy. The friction of the laces against his clit made Connor shiver.
“These might not be any good for the portfolio, but I think you’ll appreciate them anyway,” Hank said, dropping to one knee. Connor didn’t fight while the corset top was unlaced and removed. He didn’t fight while Hank turned him onto his back and propped his legs open. He felt as though he’d already lost. He couldn’t fight back.
“See?” Hank said. “So much easier when we work together. These pictures are going to be something special,”
A tear rolled down Connor’s cheek while Hank started taking more pictures. His legs were spread about as wide as they’d go, and nothing was hidden from the camera lens. Hank could see everything; his cunt, his ass, and the slick dripping down his perineum from his previous orgasm. Everything was on display for Hank to photograph, and he’d keep these pictures of Connor. He’d always have this part of him, whether Connor liked it or not.
“Real pretty pussy you’ve got, Connor. Shame not to share it, don’t you think?”
“No— I don’t— ah —want to!” Connor whined.
Hank shrugged. “‘S alright, I won’t share these. Much.”
He pressed the tip of his shoe against Connor’s folds, pleased with how the slick made a mess of the leather. The click of the camera never stopped.
“Darlin’, you’re doing a great job. You’re gonna go real far in this industry,”
Connor shuddered at the contact; up and down, up and down. Hank never stopped moving his foot, pressing against him and toying with the most sensitive parts of his body. A horrified, strangled moan left his mouth when Hank pressed down hard and his hips bucked up of their own accord.
“S- stop,” Connor whined, though his circuits were singing at the pleasure being forced onto him. He heard the camera go off once more.
“It’s okay to like it, honey. Your body knows what you need,” Hank said, grinning. He watched Connor unwillingly grind his hips, his body jolting every time his clit caught on the rubber on the bottom of his shoe. “Little slut, aren’t you?” Hank murmured. “Hardly even tried to stop me, and now here you are— shamelessly fucking the sole of my shoe. Your sweet little pussy needs to be stepped on, hm?” Hank palmed the front of his pants, which had grown uncomfortably tight.
Connor tried to curl up, as if that could protect him from what was happening to him. He rocked against foot pushing him down; his pussy had already been so sensitive from Hank touching him before, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop himself from coming a second time.
“No— I can’t-'' Connor moaned, grabbing Hank’s ankle. He thought to try and throw him off, but he only succeeded in pushing Hank’s foot down against his cunt to rut harder against it. He could feel his orgasm building, and he fought as well as he could against it. Connor couldn’t allow his body to betray him again — but Hank had stopped moving his foot; Connor was rutting against him all on his own at that point. Hank took picture after picture, the android underneath him humping his foot like a dog. Connor bucked against Hank furiously, choked and broken moans being pulled from his throat. The rubber sole of his shoe was a delicious friction against his pussy.
At least until Hank pulled his foot away. Despite everything, Connor whined at the loss, desperate for release.
“Sorry, darlin’,” Hank said, “but I’m not done with you yet,”
Connor curled up, snaking a hand between his legs to cover himself while Hank stepped away. It didn’t occur to him to try and run. He could feel the slick leaking from him, and he idly toyed with his hole, coating his fingers and feeling it drip. His cunt was fluttering, clenching down on nothing, as if it wanted Hank to come back and use him.
Connor found his legs being wrenched open once more; Hank yanked him across the floor, rolling him onto his back and making space between Connor’s legs. A hand pressed against Connor’s stomach, holding him in place.
“Gotta clean you up before I put my mouth on you,” Hank said. He brandished a wet rag, before pressing it against Connor’s cunt. Connor bucked his hips, biting back a shout. The rag was cold, and the fabric was rough against his sensitive synthskin— but that didn’t stop his core from clenching around nothing, overstimulated and sending endless pleasure signals through Connor’s body
Hank was thorough with his clean-up, wiping away any scut from his shoe, while also paying special attention to Connor’s clit when he saw how it made him squirm.
“So pretty,” Hank murmured. He put the rag aside, getting a good eyeful.
“Stop,” Connor said, weakly. He only managed to close his legs a fraction before Hank moved again.
“Wait—!” Connor gasped as his legs were hoisted up, and Hank’s mouth met his cunt.
Hank started by planting wet, sloppy kisses to Connor’s folds. The sound of it was obscene, and if Connor were capable of blushing, he knew he’d be flushed bright red. Hank started to lick his slit, up and down, over and over. From asshole to clit, dipping his tongue ever so slightly into Connor’s pussy and pressing the tip of his tongue hard against his clit. He sucked the sensitive nub into his mouth, paying it extra attention before teasing it with his teeth. Connor let out a staticky wail, the feel of teeth tugging his clit sending overwhelming signals through his processors.
Connor’s legs were trembling, and he knew how close he was. Hank redoubled his efforts, making a mess as he licked and sucked Connor’s most sensitive parts.
“St— stop —!” Connor cried, another orgasm being ripped from his body. He tensed against Hank’s mouth, and Hank knew he’d done a good job when he felt a stream of liquid hit his tongue.
Connor knew he should’ve been embarrassed, but in truth he felt detached from the scene between his legs— from his own pulsing cunt to the release Hank was greedily drinking from him. Tears streamed down the sides of his face, but he had nothing left to give, no more energy to protest.
Hank dragged his tongue over Connor one last time, before moving back to grasp his cock. He put Connor’s legs over his shoulders and grinned.
Connor didn’t fight when he felt Hank’s cock finally push inside him.
Hank rutted into Connor, no rhythm to speak of. It was fast and hard, every thrust bouncing Connor’s whole body, punching pathetic sounds from his throat. Hank leaned down, dragging his teeth over Connor’s neck. He’d bite down if he knew it would leave a mark. Hank straightened up, looking down at the point where their bodies met, when Connor’s soft cunt was taking his cock. He’d always loved the look of a wet hole stretched around him. After such a long buildup, Hank was finished quickly. Hank shuddered, grinding his hips against Connor’s while he came. His spend quickly added to the mess between Connor’s legs, dripping out with each convulsion of Connor’s cunt.
While Connor was laid out, splayed open for Hank’s personal viewing, Hank got to his feet to retrieve his camera once more. He needed to take one final picture while Connor was posed and all the set dressings were there— the most important being Connor’s drooling hole.
“You did so good for me, Con,” Hank said, snapping the picture. He set the camera down on the table, then crouched down next to Connor. “Time to clean you up,” he murmured. Hank helped Connor to his feet, then reached down one last time to slide his fingers along Connor’s wet slit. If he had more energy, he’d suggest round two— Connor’s pussy was plush and slick and ready for it— but it was for the best that they let the scene end there.
“Was it everything you dreamed of?” Hank asked.
Connor hummed. “If you carry me to the shower? Yes,”
Hank laughed. “Darlin’, I’d carry you anywhere,”