thebeast76

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Robo the Pseudo-Pup part 2 by thebeast76, literature

Literature

Robo the Pseudo-Pup part 2

Tim could feel his legs and arms changing, but he couldn't move, whether from fear, excitement, or some other force. He could only lift his head to watch his transformation continue. His skin felt clammy, then very cold and dry as it turned to silvery hard plastic. His body stiffened as his muscles turned into servomotors and actuators, and the skin covering his joints turned into protective accordion shaped covers, permanently connected to his new silver plastic skin. His hands and feet, now completely mechanical, started to take on the shape of Robo's paws, but for some reason stopped as his claws were beginning to pro

Robo the Pseudo-Pup part 1 by thebeast76, literature

Literature

Robo the Pseudo-Pup part 1

"Be sure to give your new robot dog lots of affection", Tim read aloud as he fumbled through his new toy's instructions. Tim, who was 18, worked for a large electronics company in marketing. He was the one man who wrote scripts for advertisements, helped with ad layout, and occasionally got coffee for the other designers. But that day, Tim got a call from Upper Management, and picked up his phone, shaking. "Hello?" Tim asked, with as much composure as he could muster, "Yes, is this Tim?" asked the man on the other end of the line. "Y-yes. Yes, this is Tim." "This is the Research and Development center. We've decided to have you be our f

Tommy by thebeast76, literature

Literature

Tommy

No escape. I lay here in this trench, this inescapable hell where men, young as they come, live. And die. Death at every moment, each man falls apart. Slowly; time, shells, gas, disease, cold. Each one ticks away your time left on this earth. My time nearly gone, each grain from the hourglass of my life drips through the bottleneck. I can only watch. Watch the land around me, destroyed by bombs, stripped of life by each bullet from the enemy. Everyone I knew who came into this conflict, this war which we knew too little about is gone. Day after day, I watched death sip the sweet, succulent life out of each young man, invisibly,