#Social Robots Market

[aiinsight47]

Eye-Opening Reasons Robots Should Handle These Tough Jobs

From dull tasks to dangerous jobs, see how robots and AI are transforming the workplace. Explore which roles they should take over and how it benefits workers and businesses.

Technology is moving at a rapid pace. Many people wonder which jobs robots and AI should handle in the near future. There are tasks that humans find boring, risky, or physically draining. In these cases, machine labor can improve safety and productivity. It can also give human workers a chance to focus on roles that need creativity and empathy. Advancements in robotics have already changed…

[roboticsysinfo]

In today's digital world, having a strong online presence is no longer a luxury; it's a necessity. Robotic Sysinfo stands as the best digital marketing agency in Karnal. Whether you're a startup looking to make your mark or an established brand seeking to amplify your online visibility, Robotic Sysinfo is the ultimate partner for achieving sustainable growth and success in the digital world.

[mansidesai11]

https://introspectivemarketresearch.com/reports/asia-pacific-social-robots-market/

[itirupati]

The Rise of Robotics: A Journey Through Innovation

Introduction

The evolution of robotics has been nothing short of remarkable. What began as a vision of mechanical helpers in ancient times has now transformed into a reality where robots are integrated into various facets of our lives. Today, robotics stands at the forefront of technological advancement, driving innovation across industries and reshaping the way we perceive automation and artificial intelligence.

Evolution of Robotics

The journey of robotics can be traced back through centuries of human ingenuity and curiosity. From the automatons of ancient Greece to the mechanical inventions of the Renaissance, humanity has long been fascinated by the idea of creating machines that can mimic human actions. However, it wasn’t until the 20th century that the field of robotics truly began to take shape.

Milestones in Robotics

Unimate: The Pioneer of Industrial Robotics

In 1954, George Devol and Joseph Engelberger introduced the world to the Unimate, the first industrial robot capable of performing repetitive tasks with precision and reliability. Initially used in the automotive industry for tasks such as welding and painting, the Unimate paved the way for the automation of manufacturing processes, revolutionizing industries worldwide.

Stanford Cart: The Quest for Autonomous Mobility

In 1973, researchers at Stanford University developed the Stanford Cart, a pioneering effort in the field of autonomous navigation. Equipped with sensors and onboard computers, the Stanford Cart demonstrated the potential for robots to perceive and interact with their environment, laying the foundation for future advancements in robotics and AI.

Deep Blue: A Triumph of Artificial Intelligence

In 1997, IBM’s Deep Blue made history by defeating world chess champion Garry Kasparov in a highly publicized match. This landmark achievement showcased the power of AI in robotics, demonstrating that machines could surpass human intelligence in complex cognitive tasks. Deep Blue’s victory marked a significant turning point in the integration of AI and robotics, inspiring further exploration and innovation in the field.

BigDog: Pushing the Boundaries of Mobility

In 2004, Boston Dynamics unveiled BigDog, a quadruped robot designed for rough-terrain traversal. Powered by advanced locomotion algorithms and hydraulic actuators, BigDog demonstrated remarkable agility and stability, showcasing the potential of robotics in challenging environments. With its uncanny ability to navigate rocky terrain and recover from unexpected disturbances, BigDog captured the imagination of researchers and enthusiasts alike, highlighting the versatility and adaptability of robotic systems.

Current Landscape

In the 21st century, robotics has evolved into a diverse and dynamic field, encompassing a wide range of applications and technologies. From industrial automation to service robotics, robots are now an integral part of our daily lives, transforming industries, enhancing productivity, and improving quality of life.

Applications of Robotics

Industrial Robotics: Driving Efficiency and Innovation

In the realm of manufacturing, robots have become indispensable assets, streamlining production processes, and optimizing workflow. Automated assembly lines, powered by robotic arms and precision machinery, have revolutionized mass production, enabling faster turnaround times and higher product quality. Collaborative robots, or cobots, have further enhanced the flexibility and adaptability of manufacturing systems, working alongside human operators to improve efficiency and safety.

Healthcare Robotics: Transforming Patient Care

In the field of healthcare, robotics is revolutionizing patient care and medical procedures. Surgical robots, such as the da Vinci Surgical System, enable surgeons to perform minimally invasive procedures with unparalleled precision and dexterity, reducing patient recovery times and minimizing complications. Assistive robots, designed to aid individuals with disabilities or age-related impairments, provide invaluable support in rehabilitation and daily living activities, promoting independence and quality of life.

Service Robotics: Enhancing Everyday Life

Beyond the factory floor and the operating room, robots are increasingly finding their way into everyday environments, providing assistance and support in various contexts. Autonomous drones, equipped with advanced sensors and navigation systems, are being used for surveillance, delivery, and disaster response, providing valuable insights and logistical support in critical situations. Domestic robots, such as robotic vacuum cleaners and personal assistants, are simplifying household chores and routines, freeing up time and energy for more meaningful pursuits.

Data Analysis: Impact of Robotics

The proliferation of robotics has had far-reaching effects on economies, industries, and societies worldwide. Through data analysis and empirical research, we can gain valuable insights into the economic, social, and environmental impacts of robotics, informing policy decisions and strategic investments for the future.

Economic Growth: A Boon for Industry and Innovation

According to a report by the International Federation of Robotics (IFR), the global robotics market was valued at $41.1 billion in 2020 and is projected to reach $74.1 billion by 2025, with a compound annual growth rate (CAGR) of 12.5%. This exponential growth is driven by increasing demand for automation and intelligent systems across industries, fueling innovation and entrepreneurship in robotics and AI.

Increased Productivity: Unlocking Efficiency and Competitiveness

Studies have shown that the adoption of robotics in manufacturing has led to significant gains in productivity, with some estimates suggesting a 20% to 30% increase in output. By automating repetitive tasks and streamlining workflow, robots enable companies to produce more goods in less time, reducing costs and enhancing competitiveness in the global marketplace.

Job Creation and Transformation: Adapting to the Future of Work

While concerns about job displacement persist, research indicates that robotics adoption has led to the creation of new roles in robotics design, maintenance, and programming, as well as the upskilling of the workforce to leverage robotic technologies. Rather than replacing human workers, robots are augmenting their capabilities, enabling them to focus on higher-value tasks that require creativity, critical thinking, and emotional intelligence.

Success Stories

Amazon Robotics: Revolutionizing E-Commerce Fulfillment

Amazon’s fulfillment centers are a testament to the transformative power of robotics in logistics and supply chain management. By deploying a vast fleet of robots to automate warehousing operations, Amazon has been able to dramatically reduce order processing times, optimize inventory management, and scale its operations to meet the growing demands of e-commerce. This integration of robotics has not only enhanced operational efficiency but also improved workplace safety and employee satisfaction, demonstrating the value of human-robot collaboration in the digital age.

SpaceX: Pushing the Boundaries of Space Exploration

SpaceX, founded by Elon Musk, has redefined the aerospace industry with its ambitious vision of space exploration and colonization. Through innovations in rocket reusability and autonomous landing technology, SpaceX has significantly reduced the cost of space travel, making it more accessible and sustainable for future generations. The company’s autonomous drone ships, equipped with robotic landing platforms, have successfully recovered rocket boosters from orbital missions, paving the way for reusable space infrastructure and interplanetary exploration.

Intuitive Surgical: Advancing Surgical Innovation

Intuitive Surgical’s da Vinci Surgical System has transformed the field of surgery, enabling precise and minimally invasive procedures across a wide range of specialties. With over 6,000 systems installed worldwide, the da Vinci platform has become the gold standard for robotic-assisted surgery, empowering surgeons to perform complex operations with enhanced vision, precision, and control. By leveraging robotics and AI, Intuitive Surgical is revolutionizing patient care and surgical outcomes, driving advancements in medical technology and improving quality of life for patients around the globe.

Conclusion

The evolution of robotics from science fiction to reality has been marked by innovation, collaboration, perseverance, and ingenuity. As we stand on the cusp of a new era of technological advancement, the potential of robotics to shape our future is limitless. From enhancing productivity and efficiency in industry to revolutionizing healthcare and space exploration, robots are poised to play a pivotal role in addressing some of the most pressing challenges of our time.

However, with great power comes great responsibility. As we embrace the transformative potential of robotics, it is essential to consider the ethical, social, and economic implications of their widespread adoption. By promoting equitable access to robotic technologies, fostering interdisciplinary collaboration, and prioritizing human-centric design principles, we can ensure that robotics serves as a force for good, empowering individuals and communities to thrive in an increasingly interconnected and automated world.

In the journey ahead, let us embrace the spirit of innovation and collaboration that has propelled robotics from the realm of imagination to the forefront of technological progress. Together, we can harness the power of robotics to build a future that is more inclusive, sustainable, and prosperous for all.

Useful Links

Introduction to Artificial Intelligence

Machine Learning Basics

Deep Learning

Natural Language Processing Overview

Computer Vision

Robotics

AI Ethics

Explainable AI

[santong]

Will Artificial Intelligence Replace Most Jobs

Artificial intelligence (AI) has become a ubiquitous term, woven into the fabric of our daily lives. From the moment we wake up to a smart alarm on an AI-powered phone to the personalized recommendations on our favorite streaming service, AI’s influence is undeniable. But perhaps the most significant question surrounding AI is its impact on the future of work. Will AI replace most jobs, leaving a…

[orteil42]

we are in dire need of some new media trend. we've done pirates, we've done cowboys; we've gone through two whole zombie revivals. aliens and space themes have basically been a constant since at least the 1950s, as have robots and evil AIs. we went pretty heavy on vampires for a while. we've also done dinosaurs, ninjas, musicals, wizards, sea creatures, ancient rome, ancient egypt, middle ages out the wazoo, entirely too much world war II, we're currently overdosing on our superhero phase, we've done monsters (misunderstood), monsters (radioactive), fake guy in the real world, real guy travels to fake world, caves & mining, vikings, what if you were really small, genre parody as a genre, sand, New York, time travel, something racist goes down in the jungle, neurodivergent detective, buddy cops, crooked cops, gangsters, bank heists in particular, kid has powers, revolt against the corporate world, portals, social insects, dragons, the British, global apocalypse, martial arts, roadtrip as self-discovery, Jesus, clones, clowns, babysitting goes wrong, demonic possession, ghosts of all kinds, talking animals, fucking with the stock market, restaurant ownership, dwarves, planes, and spies. where do we go from here. what's our next big thing

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[gazemaizeisdead]

13 Pitches For Ratatouille 2 (Rata-TWO-ouille)

With the success of Inside Out 2 (now only the second-highest grossing animated film of all time after being freshly dethroned by Ne Zha 2) Pixar has announced today that Coco 2 is in development, which will follow Toy Story 5, Incredibles 3, and “Hoppers”, a promising if controversial Bugs Life spinoff (time will tell if the decision to keep Kevin Spacey on comes back to bite them).

It seems we are firmly in the second major era of Pixar sequels; at this point it’s easier to imagine the end of the world than it is to see a future devoid of Ratatouille 2 (Rata-2-ouille). To that end I have taken the liberty of inventing several fresh directions for the series to take. Brad, if you’re reading this, my schedule is extremely busy but I am willing to talk if you would like to meet with me about expanding on any of these.

Six months after La Ratatouille opens, a new restaurant across the street takes Paris by storm, run by a mysterious unknown named Bessières many are lauding as the next Gusteau. Remy doesn’t view cooking as a competitive process, and his business hasn’t been hurt at all despite a perceived rivalry in the media, but an especially positive endorsement from Ego gets him curious enough to ask that Linguini sneak him in to see what the fuss is about. Remy discovers that Bessières (Kumail Nanjiani) is actually a fellow rat chef, and strikes up a friendship with him as the first friend he’s actually been able to discuss his passion with. The situation takes a dark turn when Bessières reveals himself as a rat supremacist à la a young Malcolm X, who rejects the Gusteauian ideal that anyone can cook — in his worldview, only a rat can truly be an artist, and humans have treated their kind too poorly to be allowed to continue controlling the world. Bessières tries to raticalize Remy and enlist him in his plan to shock human society with a series of rat terrorist attacks across Paris and elevate the social position of rodentkind, but Remy resists him and narrowly manages, with the help of both his human and rat friends, to prevent Bessières from blowing up the Eiffel Tower. Remy makes a stew that’s so good that it snaps Bessières out of a hyper-realistic rat panic attack and instantly fixes his anti-human bigotry and they open a new restaurant together. No real structural changes are made to fix rat-human relations but Remy gets a cute new rat-sized oven at the end of the movie and makes Bessières a rat-sized creme brûlée and that makes them both smile

Chef Skinner returns from disgrace with a restaurant entirely staffed by robots — anything can cook, declares Skinner to mocking crowds, who change their tune when they discover that the food is just as good at anything Gusteau made in his heyday for the same price as a big mac. Critics still think it’s a joke, but the public can’t get enough of Skinner’s new concept, and he begins buying out one Parisian restaurant after another and replacing the workers with his automatons. Remy and the “rat-pack”,  a team of five diverse marketable rat-children he is training to follow his pawsteps (Awkwafina, Kenan Thompson, Jenny Ortega, Millie Bobby Brown, Chris Pratt, his last name cleverly stylized as Chris P. Ratt in promotional materials) team up to infiltrate the robo-kitchens and see if they can find a way to stop Skinner. They discover that the robots are fake and are all actually controlled by enslaved rats, whom they free. Following a rat gundam fight where a living swarm of rats battles Skinner’s ultimate machine in the Seine, Remy sacrifices himself to save the rat-pack and actually dies. Skinner goes to prison (where it is heavily implied that he will be killed and eaten by prison rats) and the rat-pack makes crepes in Remy’s honor

Emile movie. Remy and Linguini travel the world to compete in a global culinary competition while Emile accidentally joins a rat spy agency to stop an evil conglomerate from smuggling fake truffle oil into France. Remy is in this movie for six minutes and has nine lines of dialogue, Colette is unvoiced

Another rat-pack vehicle, this time with Jenny Ortega swapped out for Olivia Rodrigo, who stars as a young rat looking to make a name for herself and become Remy’s apprentice years after the events of the first film. An aged Remy has become disillusioned with cooking and lost his passion for creating after the sudden death of his rat-husband, but the rat-pack works together to help him find inspiration and learn to love food again. This is actually a sequel to the Emile movie, although Emile himself only appears partway through the movie to enjoy a short zoom call with Remy and then later to call the Chris Pratt child an extremely offensive rat-slur (which he is reclaiming, the usage is considered appropriate by the film; Linguini tries to repeat the joke later himself and is immediately cancelled by everyone)

Film based on the in-universe Gusteau documentary that inspired Remy to be a chef. A young Gusteau (digitally-recreated Anthony Bourdain) works his way through the unforgiving 1960s hellscape of French cuisine to fight for his third and final Michelin star. At first this seems like a small plot hole because in Ratatouille restaurants are able to get up to five stars but at the end of the movie Gusteau’s food is so good that the Michelin company has to change their system to add extra. First M-rated Pixar film, ties the record for second most F-bombs in any movie ever

Everything that happened in Ratatouille 1 happens again exactly as it did the first time but it takes place in Italy instead. No new characters and it’s not a reboot, it’s just the same plot in Italy, everybody remembers the first movie happened but they weren’t able to internalize the lessons they learned after they all decided to move to Italy because the train ride was very long. Remy has to once again balance his rat and human lives and Linguini finds out his Mom was secretly an Italian chef so he inherits another famous restaurant and Ego is sad again. Skinner wants it to be illegal for rats to work in restaurants, but it already is illegal at the start of the movie, so he lobbies the EU to make it legal so he can then get it made double illegal. This is also a sequel to the Emile movie, Emile farts on the pope

Three disconnected episodic interludes about Remy (Dan Castellaneta), Linguini (Phil LaMarr), Colette (Tara Strong) and the entire rat-clan learning the true meaning of Christmas. Olaf cameos in the second short as a monster chasing Remy during a hallucinogenic nightmare he has after staying up for a week straight trying to create the perfect fruitcake (only later does he realize that the only truly perfect fruitcake is the one you share with family). Disney+ exclusive

Fifteen years after the first movie, Colette’s crazy sister (Sarah Silverman) returns from her exile in Elba to try and steal the soul of Linguini and Collette’s firstborn son Bouillabaisse (Jack Black) to use in an ancient culinary ritual that will allow her to take over Paris. Remy is dead and a ghost in this movie, it’s revealed that the Gusteau he kept talking to in the first movie was NOT a figment of his imagination, that was the real Gusteau; cooks of significant skill are able to continually defer their true deaths by making tasty enough food for the grim reaper (for reasons that are only alluded to, this form of necromancy only works for the french, in a comforting throwback to the nationally-segregated afterlife system implied by Coco). This movie also touches on the themes of rat discrimination more seriously; Remy is directly compared to Rosa Parks. Remy’s great granddaughter Madeline (Zendaya) and Bouillabaisse, guided by spirit Remy, defeat Colette’s crazy sister and use the power of the culinary ritual to reveal the truth of rat society to the human public. The movie ends on a bittersweet note when it turns out that only french rats are sapient, all the other rats are just rats

Remy and Linguini reunite to battle the Underminer and his robot army and stop them from destroying the surface world and polluting the atmosphere to turn the whole planet into an artificial underground. At the end they leave the underground for the first time in the movie during the final battle and the Underminer turns good because he sees Paris and realizes that he doesn’t need to terraform the surface world because the hellish aboveground wasteland he wants already exists. 62 on metacritic

Live-action remake of Ratatouille, but instead of going the Lion King CGI abomination route this uses actual trained rats who are voiced over Milo and Otis style (in that their mouths don't move and no effort is made to sell even the illusion of this, not that 40,000 real rats are ritualistically killed during production). In order to truly echo reality all dialogue is spoken in untranslated french regardless of the version of the film you are watching, except for Emile, who only farts (though is insinuated to be farting in the same language as the viewer). The rats constantly pee on everything just like real rats though this is never acknowledged. The Grammy and Annie award-winning songs "Le Festin", "Colette Shows Him Le Ropes", "Dinner Rush", and "Ratatouille Main Theme" do not feature (save for the trailer and brief EDM remixes of their motifs during the end credit blooper segments where we get to see all the silly mistakes the rat actors made during filming!) and are replaced with silence and sad coughing sounds. No rats are harmed in the making of this film but many many french people are

Followup to the live-action remake, Remy's dad Django prequel movie. IntergeneRATional trauma movie through the frame of a friend of Remy's Dad, Git (that one super fucking buff rat running around in the kitchen during the scene where they're stealing, you know the one) recounting the story to Remy and Emile shortly post-Ratatouille after they have a fight and decide they can't be brothers anymore. It is pointed out that Remy is a prince; the subtle implication that Remy grew up in Anton Ego's childhood home and was able to cook a meal that so perfectly matched his nostalgic preferences because he learned to cook using the same books and techniques as his mother is made explicit here, making the original movie much better and more cohesive as a result. We learn that Django actually had dreams of being a chef himself as a young rat and was friends with little Ego (Seth Green). Remy and Emile interrupt the central narrative multiple times throughout the story with witty banter and wacky interjections. Halfway into it after the tragic misunderstanding scene where Django only overhears Ego says that he's sick of rats (he leaves the room before hearing the -atouille) Emile points out that Git's story doesn't make any sense because rats only live for 1/35th the human lifespan and Ego and Django couldn't have been childhood friends. Blood instantly starts running from Git's nose before he collapses and dies and Remy and Emile realize that Chef Skinner has manipulated their entire lives through his magic time machine. The brothers work together to fix the timeline and even manage to save Gusteau, who we learn was murdered by Chef Skinner; but Skinner was only a puppet (literally!) of an evil future version of Remy who Remy himself defeats in "Rat Combat". For as well as this works as a thematic climax, the weaknesses of the trained rat conceit do begin to reveal themselves during the final fight scenes when so many crusted dribblings of rat piss and shit accumulate in the Skinner's actor's hair and eyebrows that he's unable to stop crying for the entire segment

Romcom Toy Story crossover in the style of "Guess Who's Coming to Dinner" where Remy falls in love with a stuffed toy rat. Django and the toy's adoptive parents (a Pet Rock and a 2nd generation Tamagotchi, who had faced parallel discrimination themselves in their youth but don't see it as equivalent to what their son is doing) eventually do give up their bigoted ways but the relationship falls apart anyway during the same night due to Remy's obsession with his career. Heavily marketed as featuring Pixar's last LGBT character

Low stakes fanservice vibe sequel where the rats and humans work together to put on dinner theater at La Ratatouille (they do Madame Bovary, Colette reluctantly stars but kills it, Emile is forced to control Linguini for all his scenes after he has a panic attack and faints and does just as good of a job). This one is also an Emile movie but it's stealthy about it. Also a jukebox musical

[moodsopinionsgosssips]

“Generative AI” is definitely one of the most talked-about, debated and discussed-about, and gossiped-about topic of the year.

If the trend is any indication, this term is going to stay quite trendy in the years to come.

It is hard to conclude whether Generative AI is bane or a boon for the next phase of human society; at this stage, it is also very difficult to determine whether the benefits outweigh the risks of AI.

Hence, I’d say - as long as there is even a single beneficial aspect attached to it, let the technology develop. The benefits will grow with the technology, and the experience shall help us negate or mitigate the risks.

[yeasserarafat]

Robots.txt Setup Guide

When it comes to managing your website, ensuring search engine crawlers can access and index your content correctly is essential. One crucial tool in this process is the robots.txt file. In this step-by-step guide, we will walk you through the process of creating and setting up a robots.txt file to optimize your website's visibility and control search engine crawlers effectively.

[acynicalsweetheart]

BUNNY LOVE !

pairing: leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

cw: smut, ddlg, daddy kink, innocence, piv, virginity loss, creampie, reader is a bunny hybrid

note: super insecure ab how bad this turned out wow… first time writing leon so whoever reads please take it with a grain of salt! older leon in mind duhh.. very disjointed n clunky sorry. hope it’s readable still. any interaction/feedback appreciated!! (works of rimqueen/rigorwhoring used as framework!)

For pestering Hunnigan with his dad jokes and unintelligent quips as it were, Leon receives instant karma in the form of shitty weather. Angels must’ve chosen her side today. He gets it. Worn out all his lucky stars, said all his prayers, counted all his blessings, no more good cards to play. Just Leon Scott Kennedy and his misfortune back to their old ways. 

Made a fool out of himself, one-sided bickering making it seem like Leon’s some kind of looney. Only gets that Good job! when he’s within an inch of his life, has totally fucked up, or under the false pretense that someone was speaking to him. Back in the day he got ‘em as easy as pie. Pie but no pussy. Leon in a nutshell. Leon is the nutshell at this point. 

Got his ass thoroughly kicked today to say the least—a blossoming bruise on Leon’s shin out of all places ‘cause he stubbed it on the coffee table, ran out of change in the cafeteria and lost a couple dollars, people outright refusing to laugh at his jokes and witticism. Plain disrespectful. Where’s the love? 

Paperwork and office days are tough, man. Makes field work seem like the lesser evil here, and Leon nearly dies each time on duty. Least it makes him feel alive, as paradoxical as that sounds. Prefers fighting in B.O.W. infested domains rather than battling the confusing ways of social interaction. One he’s good at, the other? Not so much. 

He’s got a girl waiting for him at home that is not much too keen on social interaction herself. Being locked up in the confines of his apartment and all. God, Leon feels bad. But you don’t mind. He thinks. You’re smart enough to know how to handle a door, could just open up and walk out if that were a problem. Leave him alone with no one but Matilda and the restless phantoms of his past haunting him to no end. Guess Leon will never really be alone in that way.

Makes it to the parking lot garage in a ratty umbrella. Leaves it in his trunk tucked away for a rainy day that might be tomorrow given Leon’s series of unfortunate events as of late. Vintage real leather of his jacket thankfully unscathed, same horsehide fabric Claire shoots him those nasty glares for. Sorry Ms. Hybrid Rights, this one was fullblood, it’s fashion. Lasts longer. 

He is more worried about what you think in all honesty. Horses probably eat your kind in one big bite, so with that in mind Leon’s certain you’ll be on his side if the debate ever comes. Not that he’s especially knowledgeable about animals or hybrids either way. 

Leon has sacrificed his Costco coupons for your monthly carrot supply. In turn, you bite his arms. 

You came to Leon in a box. Literally. Ordered a package of… something. Not sure he wants to think about what was initially meant to be inside that package but let’s just say it was pretty damn big. A pleasant surprise when he unboxed what he thought he ordered, nice costume and everything, bit naked—Playboy Bunny sort of look—thought to check his bank statement if they charged him extra for that. 

Only, he didn’t have the time to ‘cause you opening your eyes and blinking at him caught him rightfully off guard. Strange. Like a programmed robot. Not what he ordered but alright, a blindfold should do, but before he could finish thinking, you fucking hopped out and stumbled to stand up. Took Leon that long to realize that things went wrong—either he unintentionally financed a black-market sex trafficking ring by shopping there, or somebody switched out his package. Still haven’t gotten to the bottom of that yet. Maybe someday, likely after he’s dead. Blown his brains out ‘cause the suspense was killing him. 

Of course, Leon being Leon, of course he was going to do the right thing. Call law enforcement to get you justice, lax on his assholery and capitalize Claire’s TerraSave hybrid rights movement, fund Billy and Rebecca’s hybrid shelter… key word: was. What he wasn’t going to do is explain what he was doing—more specifically what he was buying—to have this transpire. So like any normal, dignity-having, modest man, Leon decided to keep you. 

(A secret.)

Whole thing had him contemplating if things were supposed to be this way—God’s plan or whatever; which entails Leon dying alone and fuckless for longer than a man should ever go fuckless. That’s just a crime against biology. And his dick. 

Leon is lonely, okay? He’s old. Old and lonely and he can damn well buy a sex doll if he damn well wants to. Just his luck, his punishment due that it was an off-limits bunny hybrid. One that cannot be fucked under any circumstances. Doll was expensive as hell, too, sacrificed major funds that Leon surely will need when he gets the boot. Shit was custom made, designed specifically after an old flame and her red dress which should’ve been the first giveaway, really. 

(Her name is unspoken in this household ‘cause Leon himself knows as well as anybody, that one mention is more than enough to send him spiralling. The only pull of the trigger, all it takes to fire the instant depression bullet through the endless barrel and if Leon wasn’t an alcoholic before, you best believe he is now.)

It was a horny mistake—let the head of his dick control him. No way he’s buying another one just to have it happen again and be walking around with two bunny girls hogging up every square inch of his apartment. 

God, that sounds nice. But Leon is a good man. An aspiring one anyway, so he won’t. Won’t think about it. Honest. Will just sulk with his pussy-starved dick and balls that so desperately yearn to slap against some ass, empty themselves into a warm tight clasp. To impregnate a womb before the biological hourglass runs out, sends the last grain of sand into sterile territory. Missionary ‘cause he’s a sap nowadays. 

…

Are you even human? Sure, you’ve got the body, put the ass in assets, thanks to the multitude of carrot cakes you’ve got him baking thrice a week. But you’ve also got your floppy ears, perky fluffy cottontail—and let’s not forget the bunny chompers. Leon’s felt enough of those. A very nice addition to his scar-littered skin are now the chewing marks irremovably indented onto his forearms. ‘Cause apparently you think Leon counts as a vegetable. He doesn’t mind. Really. It’s fine. He has not thought of filing your teeth down. Promise. Claire’s snippy, passive aggressive questions regarding Leon biting himself do not bother him. 

(Leon has considered upping his biotin supplement intake in order to boost arm hair growth to hide them. Only time mama’s Italian genes have ever failed him.)

Oh my God, Leon. You look like shit!

Thanks.

What are those? Have you been chewing on yourself? Are you insane? Don’t answer that by the way, it was a rhetorical question. Jeez. Take your meds, Leon. They’re going to institutionalize you. Listen, I’ve gotta go, in the meantime you should cover those things up. 

Claire—

Conclusively, it wouldn’t be wrong to fuck you. Immoral, maybe. Stupid? For sure. Tempting? 

His dick rising like Jesus every time he’s around you speaks for itself. 

While at it, Leon’s not even entirely sure that you aren’t just a figment of his imagination—a schizophrenic hallucination or something of the sort. He has been slacking on the meds recently after all. Could very well be that this entire thing is just one long-ass episode. Being a nutjob is par for the course with Leon as many would agree. As even his therapist would agree.

He has not yet given you a name. Leon ain’t good with those, whether that’s remembering ‘em or coming up with ‘em. Was thinking of Matilda as unoriginal as he is, but that one’s reserved for his trusty gun. Closest thing Leon’s ever had to a wife, she’s a real cougar, 7 years older than him. Or maybe he was the cub all along. 

After taking on the role as a marionette for all these years, he is completely clueless as to how he’s supposed to manage this situation. Apparently the skills of controlling and handling things, let alone a crazed bunny, don’t come naturally for a man of Leon’s age, total fucking bogus by the way. Right now he’s just going with the flow—his so far unsuccessful flow—and seeing where it leads him and if that is down into another hole, well that’s just Leon, ain’t it?

Things between you and him used to be just fine before Leon got headbutted by a star-crossed streak, and now you’re resolved to being this stomping and pouting angry little thing, while Leon’s struggling to deal with his completely non-consensual attraction towards said stomping and pouting angry little thing. It’s a delicate balance—you get a sugar rush during the hours he so desperately needs to sleep, and Leon in turn struggles to keep the bulge in his pants down. 

He does everything for you; cooks, cleans, brushes your teeth, appeases you with pets, buys you clothes, helps you get dressed up, cuts a hole in the back of each of your panties to make room for your tail. Yet you’re some sort of fucking rebel, a revolutionary. ‘Cause you insist on not wearing any. Which causes Leon himself a great deal of embarrassment when he has to continuously hide his boners around you. 

Not that you even know what it implicates which then makes Leon’s dick even fucking harder because he’s a pervert. And the situation escalates from plain fucked-up to downright catastrophic. A torrential downpour of filthy, forbidden, absolutely out-of-question thoughts overflowing his mind. Much like D.C., shit just doesn’t stop. Evolves into a flood of fantasies and an obsession with someone (read: something) Leon should definitely not be having, but perversely allows himself to drown in. Can barely get any paperwork done ‘cause all he’s thinking about is stuffing you full. With his cream. Like a cannoncini. 

Pull yourself together, Kennedy. That was last week. It’s not going to happen again. It’s not. It isn’t. Don’t worry, just have a drink—One. One drink. And everything will be—

“Daddy!” A weight in his lap. Plushness spilling past his fingertips. Floppy ears nearly smacking him right in the face. 

Oh lord, his back. 

“Shit. Fuck.” Leon bounces you up and down a little—adjusting his hold on you ‘cause he was very prepared for that. You’re climbing him like a tree and he hasn’t even gotten a chance to close the front door yet. “Uh,” great example he is, can’t even keep track of his own swearing, “you didn’t hear a thing, bunny.”

“Missed you,” you mumble into his neck, pouty lips brushing against the skin there. Thankfully unbothered by Leon’s slip-up. 

“Daddy missed you more, baby.” He breathes in your scent, nuzzling your hair and finally getting to shut the door of the shitty day behind him. “You have no idea.”

Pulling back, you’re giving him these glossed over puppy eyes, staring up at him all curiously. Pretty ironic. Your pupils are so big Leon can see his reflection in them, wow, real nice. Really makes his wrinkles and eyebags pop in the overhead lighting. Claire was right, he does look like shit. 

Shit doesn’t cut it, he looks like a pile of shit ate a second pile of shit then shat out a third pile of shit. Leon being the third pile of shit. If his therapist could read Leon’s mind he would say Leon, you’re spiralling again, take a deep breath and count to ten and let’s continue this total fucking waste of time and money. 

(See, Leon’s doing just fine unmedicated. The screams of agony late at night are a part of the healing process, insists a voice in his head he’s named Kevin after a late buddy back in the cop academy. Not late as in dead, just Leon fucking things over as per usual. Friendship’s long gone—the real Ryman ain’t.)

Then you close them and lean in. Leon’s convinced you’re playing with him till you press your lips smack bang against his. 

Oh?

He sees it, feels it, processes it, before he realizes. 

Catches him so off-guard he nearly drops you, feeling around to get a better grip and ends up grabbing a handful of your asscheek and a handful of your tail. 

“Hey.” Leon tries to remove you, detach your lips from his and it’s like peeling off an actively bloodsucking tick. Damn near impossible. “Where’d you learn that?” 

‘Cause Leon did not teach you that. Sure he kisses you—everywhere but your lips, and they’re more of a peck, really. Once in a while (every night before bed) you get an earnest forehead smooch and that’s that. But that? That was a lover’s smooch. A boyfriend and girlfriend kiss. The beginning of a make out session. So who broke in and robbed your innocence under the fleetingly long hours of his workday? Taught you how to kiss like that? …Did they also steal Leon’s shit?

Reaching your finger up to press it against your lips, Leon receives a very impractical “shh” paired with a girlish giggle. 

“Nuh-uh,” he lowers your hand, “tell me.” Using not his Leon voice, but his daddy voice which is a timbre lower and a tone sterner. “Tell daddy.” Seems to work, shake your little bunny boots so awfully Leon almost feels bad. 

With a fallen face, you point to the TV screen through the open lounge. Currently airing… ad break. 

Late bloomer, huh. Well, fuck. Hope Leon didn’t stir that up, incite your heat cycle or whatever by letting you watch the TV. Can’t say he knows the first thing about bunnies, but he wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what happened. That’s just ol’ Leon business—always the first to press the big red button, to walk into a trap, to situate himself deeper into the grave that he’s been digging for more than half his life. To fuck up.

At least now the fallacy of burglary can be ruled out. Though Leon coulda sworn he left Disney Channel on. He remembers dialling 24 before taking off for work this morning, prompting whatever kids watch nowadays. What he does not remember is leaving the TV with some Baywatch or Bachelor bullshit on, you know, the ones with the raunchy shit. Kissing’s probably the tamest action they’ve ever aired on there. Uh, common knowledge. Obviously. So unless Disney Channel’s the perpetrator…

You’re watching Disney Channel!

Oh. 

Cinderella and that other guy. Prince Charming? Some felons they are, stealing your innocence like that. As a govvie, Leon will let it slide. Might’ve been your way of showing him that you proclaim Leon as your personal Prince Charming, but that’s just wishful thinking—well past his prince days by now, scruff and wrinkles and canities and all. Retinol, Tretinoin and whatever-the-fuck-noin don’t help with that. He’s tried. 

See, initially, you insisted on calling Leon mama which was just a punch in the fucking gut. An inflicted testicular torsion, even. By yours truly. Made him so insecure he considered going under the knife and getting a haircut for quite some time after that, just to help you distinguish between man and woman. Leon then decided against it when you said you liked his hair out of the blue. First time anybody’s told him that. Still mulling over the plastic surgery part though. 

The daddy situation was surprisingly not Leon’s idea. He may be the occasional pervert but no way in hell does it go that far. Impossible to get you to give the word up as well ‘cause you’re one stubborn fluffy little thing, so eventually Leon just went with it. Went and had a little too much fun with it. Has a visceral reaction to that word, just hearing it awakens something inside of him that’s so sinister even his balls get the heebie-jeebies. 

He puts you down, lets you scamper over to the couch and lets it squeak! when you jump onto the sectional. Lying pancake flat on your tummy with your feet swinging in the air, watching vintage fairytales like it’s the most interesting thing since sliced bread. 

You’re wearing his boxers. Okay. You put them on funky, right? That’s how Leon was able to feel your—

There’s a hole. 

Of course there’s a hole. There’s always a hole. Whether that be a loophole, an asshole or a… boxer-hole to fit your ball of fluff. 

He didn’t peg you to have the motor skills to use a pair of scissors yet. Well, on the bright side—you’ve no longer got an excuse to not help him around the house. Nah, that’s just mean. You’re a little bunny, Leon’s little girl, you don’t deserve that. Leon’s the one who wears the pants ‘round here anyway. Figuratively. He’ll make do of it. 

“Daddy’ll get changed, okay, baby?” He shrugs off his leather jacket, toes off his dad shoes as some have insisted. “You just stay right here.” Leon speaks into the open air. ‘Cause you don’t even look at him, too engrossed with the antics of a Disney princess. 

Leon returns in lounge clothes, bit later than necessary ‘cause he was not scrutinizing his appearance in the mirror like he’d do before a date. He did not brush his teeth and reapply his cologne and smooth over his hair, he did not spend an additional five minutes plucking off stray greying strands. 

At least the newfound scent gets your nose twitching. In the blink of an eye you’re springing up like a slinky, hopping from cushion to cushion and once again landing on Leon. When he catches you his hands land on the peaches of your ass. God. He does not feel the heat between your legs when they’re wrapped around him so tightly and he does not let his mind go places it shouldn’t. 

Sitting you on his lap—the normal way—Leon showers you with headpats and general pets, moreso in order to settle himself down rather than you. Pacifies your constant itch for physical affection though. Wool tufts of Leon’s cheap carpet are clinging to your fur, he picks them off, flicks them away into the horizon of his apartment. Poor baby, probably rolled around on the rug like a disheveled beetle while waiting for your daddy to come home. 

Okay, fine. Sympathy pecks. That’s it. 

Leon’s gut is already getting queasy from having you on his lap alone—queasy in a way that says he might not be able to keep his wandering hands in check. But Leon has enough self-control to not fall victim to the cradle-robber phenomenon. He does. Just loses his inhibitions from time to time, particularly around pretty young things. Pretty young, fluffy, bunny things shaped like you. You’re just too cute, terribly adorable, he could eat you up. In more ways than one. 

After petting and pecking your head till your ears stand at 2 o’clock rather than upright, watching TV with you and failing to dodge the smooches you try to place smack bang on Leon’s lips every time you see a similar scene—he figures enough is enough. Damn Cinderella and her damn Prince Charming for kissing so much.

(Thank the Lord.)

Drunk off endorphins ‘cause no one’s ever loved Leon as much as you do—and you’ve got no clue what love even means—he indulges in you and your kisses. Leon’s not blushed in twenty years, let alone to the point where his ears are getting second degree burns. Probably looking more like a clown and less like your King Not-So-Charming. 

His initial hesitancy of kissing you back wears off when you start letting out all these noises, cute frustrated huffs and puffs ‘cause you’re still new to the concept of kissing. 

No tongue ‘cause God knows that will throw every last ounce of Leon’s dignity, morals, and integrity—everything he’s ever stood for—right out the window. So he lets you clumsily slot your lips against his until your jaw grows tired, until you’ve successfully raised Leon’s dick like your mouth alone is a conjurer of Viagra spells.

Then you snuggle up against his chest and fall asleep. Just like that. Blue balling men like it’s nothing. Okay. Looks like somebody’s been reading up on how to be a total fucking tease. 

No idea when Leon passed out but he’s awoken by his own snoring, most likely ‘cause of the fucking hard-on that sprung up so fast there wasn’t enough blood flow left for his head. Hopefully his balls have gone back to normal as well, less painfully lonely and more… ballsy. Dick’s dead again, as is to be expected. 

Might’ve been a dream. 

Schizo. States a voice suspiciously identical to Claire’s in the back of his mind. 

“Daddy.” You’re loafing in his lap, ears flat against your head as you stare up at Leon. Unorthodoxly close to his dick. Shit. Tilting your head, you keep calling out for him till the murkiness of his hearing clears out. “Daddy?”

“Princess,” Leon groans, tasting the sleep on his tongue, stretching his arms out before petting your head once again—in case everything really was a dream, “how long was I out?”

Raising your brows, you shrug and pout. 

“Why don’t you wait in bed, honey? Dad’s—I mean, uh, daddy’s gonna…” Leon was hoping that would’ve gone unnoticed, too late when you’re giggling at his umpteenth slip-up today, “‘m tired, okay? Gonna help you.”

(God, does Leon want to help you—help you cum, help you make him cum.)

He sighs at his heart fluttering when you do what you originally do best, being a good girl for Leon and listening to every word he says. Not being a pissed-off and spiteful fluffy bun, no matter how cute it may be. 

Feels like somebody’s lobotomized Leon with a needle of your fur, pierced through his skull and switched out the frontal lobe for tufts of your cotton. Swear he feels you inside on a regular basis—a mini you poking and prodding at his cerebrum like a call bell for attention. You’re living rent-free in his mind and in his house and Leon is powerless when it comes to you. Willfully enslaved to a ball of fluff. 

It’s not the fact that Leon purposely overlooks the orange bottle wrapped up in this piece of paper with his name on it—it’s you. 

The one driving Leon crazy is you and you know what? He is completely fine with that. Needs something to get his mind off the horrors and tragedies, focus on the simple pleasures of life. Like sex for example. ‘Cause soon he won’t be having any of that. Leon has not been having any of that for too fucking long now. 

You’re all but his last shot.

All this thinking’s giving him a headache. Leon needs a drink. What time is it? Monday? 9PM? 

Whiskey o’clock. 

Pouring the drink down into the stubby glass, sight is about as disappointing as Leon’s soft dick. There is not much. The hell? Bottle’s so dark he can’t even tell if there’s actually nothing left or if it’s fucking with him just for the sake of it. Well, no worries, ‘cause Leon’s got an endless supply of—

…Nothing?

The worst possible outcome takes shape: an empty bar cabinet. Leon runs his hand over his face, settles at his stubble, feeling it disconcertedly. Only thing he’s thinking is what the fuck. Finishes the little pesky pint of alcohol—chugs it like water, doesn’t even feel the burn—and after the whole ordeal he is still thinking what the fuck. 

What the fuck is Leon supposed to do now? How’s he supposed to pesticide away the invasive species that are his thoughts and urges to fuck your little bunny self into oblivion? 

Tonight Jack Daniel’s was supposed to be momentary. A band-aid of some sort. Patch up more like wash away all the happenings of today. And yesterday. And the past 25 years of his life. One that he can then rip off, peel away the crusting scab beneath it and reopen the wound till it festers, patch it back up with 40% liquor filling the infinitely gaped lesion. The uroboros cycle Leon has come to know as coping. 

Seems like the only thing he’s going to be filling is you. With… love, of course. With love. And a snuggle. Nothing more, nothing less. A morale safekeeping measure. Just a bunny and Leon embrace—that’s the extent of it. 

Yes, Leon is a fully grown-ass man, 47 years of age. 

Yes, Leon wants to be held like a baby at night. 

Cuddled and coddled like his very being is God’s greatest gift, entire form smooth and clean and unscathed to the naked eye. Lulled to sleep by the sweet voice of an angel’s singing hymns that might just be the Devil in disguise because that’s just his luck. A comfortably overbearing presence, nonetheless—a personage blanket Leon is in desperate need of. Something to take the weight off his diligent shoulders. 

But when your only seeming purpose in life is to save the world, you don’t get that. You get something between a nonchalant pat on the shoulder, a snobby dick in whatever hole the possessor deems fit, and a fuck-you if you’re unfortunate. What you’ll never get is a little fucking appreciation. Five minutes of fame, maybe. At most. Then you’re back to being pretty much no one. Just another forgettable face in the presidential bootlicker squad. That’s Leon for ya.

He is not conceited for wanting some affection.

(He is conceited for wanting some affection.)

Leon’s master agenda is to get you to spoon him. Shitty. Total shocker. Classic Leon. But by God will he fucking wake up decomposed if he walks touch starved a moment longer. Loneliness is actively disintegrating his skeletal system into fine grains of sand. Melancholy induced osteoporosis. All that’s gonna be left of him is specks of Leon-dust that you’re probably going to snort like coke ‘cause you got ahold of Pulp Fiction. Also ‘cause no one else is coming for him.

Can’t have that happen now, can he? You’re here, he’s here… two’s company or whatever they say. 

Leon’s utilizing the last of his strength into letting the intrusive (instructive) thoughts go. 

“Bunny? You up?” Leon knocks twice, creaks the door to his bedroom open like he doesn’t own the place. 

With a ruffle of the sheets, you peek out from under them. Warm light of his bedside lamp casting this homely glow across your face, like a fireplace, makes Leon feel oddly domesticated—and you’re the pet here. 

You stare blankly at him, like there isn’t a single thought running through that little bunny head of yours. Leon bets it’d echo if he gave a knock or two to the side of your skull, and that is immensely sexy. No.

He gets into bed next to you before something in his mind clicks, the mystery of the navy pile on the floor solving itself. 

“Baby,” Leon’s trying to approach this matter delicately, sneaking glances at the discarded pair of underwear on the floor. His underwear that you’ve been prancing around in all day, given away by the unmistakable choppy hole cut to fit your tail. “You, uh… you leave those on the floor?” 

“Accident.” It’s said simply, playing with your fingers above the sheets. Okay. Leon sees right through you.

“Now, you know that ain’t true, bunny. Remember the rules daddy told you about? Those still apply.” Hand dwarfing both of your cold ones when Leon stills your fidgeting, tries to squeeze the information out of you without giving you a mouthful. “Why’d you take ‘em off?” 

…

“Uncomfy, daddy,” you mumble, still avoiding eye contact, ears back to being flat against your head. 

“Uh-huh,” Leon says unconvinced, stroking his finger along the length of your unusually warm bunny ear, “they weren’t comfy, huh? So you just… threw ‘em on the floor?” Always complaining about your underpants, Leon’s underpants in this scenario. Too tight, too rough, too fast, too hard, too—naughty? “They’re just lying there, baby. We’ve been through this.”

“Sticky.” Is your argument. 

“Sticky…” he repeats thoughtfully, squinting at nothing in particular and trying to figure out what the hell that could mean. ‘Cause rest assured Leon’s boxers are not sticky. Not on their own, and those were a fresh pair. 

“They got sticky. When daddy was kissin’ me.” 

“Hey, I was not—“  

Oh. 

That was real?

And that’s what you meant by sticky. Lord. You’re… naked. Pantless. Pantieless. Bare. Nude. 

Sticky. 

“…Yeah?” Leon breathes out hoarsely, a big horny lump building up in his throat as he speaks. Impossible to swallow, ‘bout as big as your tail. Wouldn’t be surprised if the lump’s somehow made of your fur as well. “They were all sticky, huh, baby? Daddy did that?”

“Mmm,” you nod, absentmindedly flicking against his fingers. “N’ swollen.”

Hearing you describe the way you got all sticky and swollen from Leon kissing you just about did him in. Planted him six feet under along with his dignity. Tout de suite. “You’re gonna give daddy an aneurysm if you keep talking like that, bunny.”

Or an orgasm—possibly both. Not that you even know which either of them mean and yep. You guessed it. Hard again. God. That is not why he came in here. Leon tries his best to be good, he loves you, but you’re just so untiringly hellbent on turning him into a dirty old man. 

(More so beckoning out the already existing dirty old man inside of him. The one whose eyes linger just a little too long on each curve and outline of your body during bath time, the one whose hands accidentally brush against the plushness of your ass, the one who gives you feet rubs just to keep his hands occupied, the one who tickles you to feel another body against his, the one who deliberately feeds you large carrots to watch you struggle to fit them into your mouth.)

“Didn’t know what to do,” you continue, “so bunny was checkin’ what was wrong…” You’re not done? Just exposed your true intentions—you are plotting Leon’s demise. 

“Checking?” Leon swallows hard, hoping you didn’t hear how loud of a fucking sound it just made, “how’d you check?”

“Touch. Touched.”

“…Touched what, bunny?” He asks even if he knows damn well what it is you touched. “You touched yourself between your legs?”

You shrink. 

“Show me, baby.” Lifting your chin, Leon searches for your eyes and lets the perversion sink its venomous, infectious teeth into him. “Show daddy what you did.”

Judging by the anxious chewing on your bottom lip, you’re still a bit shy about the whole thing. 

“It’s okay.” Leon lets go of your hands, giving you a heartfelt yet equally as unbearably horny smile. “Don’t be scared, alright? ‘S just daddy.”

If his arousal was slipping through the cracks of his tight smile, it mustn’t have been very obvious ‘cause you pull down the sheets, revealing your body to Leon. From the cutesy eyelet top with a teensy ribbon adorning the lace that cost him more than a pretty ugly penny, to your naked lower half. Jesus. 

Your hand snakes down your frame, leaving Leon to picture his own hands in imaginary cuffs—for both of your sakes. Thinks he’s about to get the show of his life but you look over at him before going any further, like you’re not sure if it’s okay. Almost makes Leon want to shake you, finish the job himself. 

“Go on, let daddy watch,” he says like he isn’t about to explode. 

Fingers finding your pussy, you aimlessly rub away, movements as uncoordinated and unpracticed as ever and it’s the hottest thing Leon’s fucking witnessed. Producing sticky noises that bounce off the walls the way you should be bouncing on his dick. You let out a small whimper as your ears flop back up. 

“Fuck,” he needs to know, needs something to stroke his ego if something is not stroking his dick, “were you thinking of daddy, baby? Thought of me when you played with yourself?”

“Maybe…” you reply so quietly Leon can’t tell if he imagined that or if it was something you actually said.

He takes it. Wilful hearing’s better than nothing. 

“God, bunny.” Leon wants it to be his hand, his body against yours. He needs to rip off your flimsy top and replace your hand with his. “What were you thinkin’ ‘bout daddy?”

“Daddy. Without a shirt. Daddy’s cute without a shirt.” Only then does it click, the last piece of this lewd puzzle that creates the full image of you with your hand between your thighs. 

“Think daddy should take his shirt off, little girl? So you can see him?” Leon is the dirtiest, filthiest man to ever exist. 

And before you even get a chance to nod, he’s on it. 

Leon’s never taken off his shirt so fast in his life, baring his torso so you get to see the battlefield—the war zone that is his body, cicatrices scattered about like cracks in old porcelain. Relatively tan porcelain ‘cause Leon’s making an effort to dump his vampirish habits lately, D.C. sun don’t do much though. “Still think daddy’s cute?”

You moan, loud, he takes it as a yes. 

“Keep going, baby, don’t stop.”

“Forgot how to…” 

Leon hasn’t indulged in Christ or anything revolving the man—much less his entire religion—since mama passed all those years ago, but right now he’s praying for the strength to keep his hands to himself. Passio Christi, conforta me, o bone Iesu, exaudi me… Uh, how the fuck’s it go again? Imperet illi Deus, my growing erection? Damn. Thyne dicketh shalt not rise? Thyne hands shalt not wander to—fuck this shit. 

He needs to be inside you and he needs it now.

“Aw, it’s okay, bunny, daddy’s here to help.” Leon grabs ahold of your hand, bringing it up to his lips to place an earnest kiss to the back of it, quickly sucks the tips of your slick fingers till they’re dry. “Daddy’ll show you how it’s done, baby. How to touch between your legs.”

“Okay, daddy.”

“So fuckin’ cute, baby,” he pulls you closer, snuggling up against your side and spreading your legs wider, fingers finding your heat. Lets out the biggest sigh of relief anybody’s ever let out, Leon bets. Your stickiness clings to his calloused skin as he circles your clit nice and slow. 

One hand gripping the sheets and the other Leon’s wrist, you mewl and buck your hips. 

“Yeah?” He noses at your neck, inhales deeply till you’re squirming, ears flopping around. “Like it when daddy touches you like this?”

“Mhmm,” you mumble and his dick pokes into your thigh through his sweats like the fucking tower of Pisa. 

Leon moves his hand again, palm cupping your mound and brushing against your clit as his fingers shift down to your slit, gliding up and down. Can’t help the low noise that slips out of him, can’t remember the last time he’s felt a pussy. “Gonna go inside, okay?”

Sliding a single digit inside, you gasp. “Oh!” 

“That’s it, princess, just let daddy take care of you.” You’re sucking him in so tight Leon gets the notion your walls might be intent on getting his finger stuck there forever. To prevent that, he slips another one past your dripping entrance. Leon moves ‘em in and out carefully despite his raging need for you, meeting that sweet spongy spot that has your back arching.

“Daddy!” Poor baby, can barely get the words out through your moans. Leon tries to placate you with neck kisses. “Daddy, what’s happening?”

“Shh, shh, it’s alright, bunny,” he mumbles into your sternum, voice resonating against you, not letting his movements up, “just let yourself feel it, daddy’s got you. ‘M right here, baby.”

Legs kicking, back bending off the bed, thighs snapping shut ‘round his hand—Leon thinks it’s safe to say you’re cumming, first orgasm creeping up on you from your curled toes to your erratically flopping ears. “Ohh!” 

Your walls contract, very obviously trying to milk what they think is a cock ‘cause they know no better. Against the heel of his palm Leon feels your clit twitching in tandem with your nose. Awfully adorable, might just shed a tear. Beautifully guileless you are. 

“Jesus Christ,” Leon beholds the entire thing, your orgasm damn near rubbing off on him—no pun intended—dick so fucking pent up it’s going to take off like a rocket with the final destination being between your legs. “Such a good girl, baby.”

His brain practically short-circuits, thoughts disappearing like erased off a whiteboard. Leon’s heart rate is probably high enough to land his ass in the ER, organ pounding hard and fast in his ribcage the way his dick should in your—No. Self-control. 

(Yes. Very much yes. Self-control went out the window the second he stepped foot into your secret session.)

Panting like you’ve just run a marathon—which, if Leon’s being technical, you sort of have with the way your legs were hopping away into the air like that—you bonelessly loll back. Limbs spread out like a starfish except for the rigid hand gripping his wrist, chest heaving up and down. 

“Made such a big mess, princess,” that you did, slick pooling beneath you and completely coating his fingers. Leon could just… slip right in if he tried. Pull out and replace his digits with his dick. Just like that.

He should take things slow but the realization’s starting to dawn on him, you’re mature enough. Never connected the dots till now but he’s seen the sticky patches in your panties while doing the laundry, noticed the way you walk funny probably ‘cause of that ache between your legs. Leon would be doing you a favor. 

(That is his dick speaking.)

“You trust daddy, don’t you?” He’s already peeling off your top, raising your arms and tugging it off your dampening body. 

“I… trust daddy.” You’re doing that thing again. Looking at Leon in a way that turns him into straight mush. 

Leon’s stomach is doing somersaults, flipping like a fucking gymnast coin. Heads and tails—nausea and arousal. Throw up and kill yourself or fuck the shit out of your baby girl. 

Must’ve landed on tails ‘cause as bad as it sounds, he ain’t gagging or retching or itching to reach for his gun right now. But Leon’s dick is jumping like it’s warming up for something. Even God is scared of what that something may be. 

“You do? That’s… good.” Leon feels a little sick still, can’t tell if it’s ‘cause of how overwhelmingly aroused he is or if it’s your naïveté—the way you blindly put your faith in him. He swallows the feeling, nothing he ain’t had before, seeing monster guts on the daily and all. Kind of used to walking around with a pit of unease in his stomach by now. “Daddy’s sweet little girl.” 

Bringing his fingers slick with your essence on ‘em to your mouth, Leon nods for you to lick them clean. 

And you do. Fuck. 

“Don’t wanna hurt you, baby, but I need you.” Leon says into your throat to spare himself the embarrassment of facing you when he’s about to do such a depraved thing. “Gonna take care of you just a little differently, ‘kay?”

“Okay.” 

Leon pushes down his sweats and boxers while you blink at him. 

“Don’t look, just close your eyes, bunny, take a deeeep breath and count to ten, alright? Might sting a little but daddy’ll be right here. Just hold onto him if things get… rough.” 

Eyes fluttering shut, you take a deep breath, arms wrapped around Leon’s neck as he shifts to brace himself on top of you. Can feel you exhale onto his cheek, scratching yours with his scruff. 

He springs his cock free, shit’s furious. Angry reddish tip after going so long without any action. Slicks his fist up and gives himself a couple of strokes.

“One.” Leon counts with you, forearm already cramping next to your head but he will be damned if he lets that stop him.

“Two.” He lines up the head with your lower lips, taking a deep breath himself, trying to not flatline.

“Three.” You puff out your cheeks, eyes squeezed tightly shut and face pulled into a grimace as Leon pushes forward. 

“Four.” His dick is forced out. Okay.

“Five.” Leon tries again, you whine, snap your legs tighter ‘round his hips. “I know, baby, I know. ‘M sorry.”

“Six.” Shifting forward again, he manages to get an inch inside of you.

“Seven.” Is mumbled into your neck, an attempt to stifle Leon’s groans as he slowly but surely sinks inside of you. 

“Eight.” He’s halfway inside, halfway ready to combust.

“Nine.” Leon pulls himself together, a quarter left ‘fore he’s stretched you out all the way. 

“Ten…” You’re still making this puffed up little face, something between a blow-up doll and childbirth. 

“All done,” he says finely and dandily like he isn’t actively resisting the urge to plow you into oblivion. “So perfect, bunny, look at that.” Leon nods to where you’re bumping uglies. More like his ugly bumping your pretty. Surprisingly without blood. 

Peeling your eyes open, you blink down curiously before the discomfort sets in again. 

“Daddy’ll be gentle, baby,” Leon kisses your face, everywhere he can reach, genuinely unable to stop his hips from starting to rock into yours. “Promise.”

“Daddy…” you’re moaning again, breathy noises spilling past your open mouth as you stare Leon right in his eyes. Thankful that the room’s pretty much dark besides the singular lamp so he doesn’t have to see his reflection in your pupils again—watch himself make the biggest, sexiest mistake of his life. 

“That’s right,” he grunts, holding your body tight like a lifeline, “daddy’s your daddy.” Is the best Leon can come up with ‘cause his mind blanks from the way you’re gripping his dick so fucking tight. Might snap it in half and leave it stuck inside you forever 

Leon fucks you harder, till you’re squealing and till he has to muffle your noises with kisses on the mouth. Till clammy foreheads are pressed against one another’s, till the bed is on its last legs, till damp bodies are sticking together. 

And every word he’s taught you these past couple of months is nothing but a memory. 

Daddy, daddy, daddy! 

“You’re so beautiful, sweetheart,” most beautiful you’ve ever looked—taking your daddy’s cock like a champ, walls pulsating around him. Legs kicking so rabidly your hips hump against Leon’s, unintentionally fucking him back as you drown in your second ever orgasm with a loud gasp. “My perfect little baby bunny.” 

Balls slapping against your ass, Leon tries to rush his first coming so you won’t have to deal with his dick bullying your sensitive insides for much longer. Pushes your shoulders down into the mattress so he can reach deeper, base disappearing into your hole. 

The sight of your face is enough to send Leon over the edge, spilling into you before his somatic system even has time to process what’s going on. Moaning like a pornstar ‘cause it’s been so fucking long. Hips stuttering and stilling, shooting thick hot ropes of cum where one should never shoot thick hot ropes of cum. 

Probably the last of Leon’s sperm storage, would be a miracle if they impregnated you but that’s just a tender and sappy ol’ fantasy. Swears he feels his orgasm prolonging itself by imagining you round with his babies. Lord. 

“I love you,” he’s cupping your face, panting into your mouth and petting your head with shaky hands. 

“Daddy…” tip of your nose brushing against his, Leon’s heart twists at your earnest declaration, “bunny loves daddy.”

Leon savours the moment, waiting a couple of minutes before pulling out of you with a sticky pop! and watching his load drip out of you. Body going slack—worn out from all the banging, you blink at him heavy-lidded, lazy fucked-out smile lining your lips. 

He flops down next to you, sweaty and guilty and out of breath. 

Shit, everybody’s gonna know, see right through Leon like the fucking ghost he is. Smell your bunny scent on him. If he didn’t already get the judgmental, knowing once-overs at the office then, you best believe he will now. 

Claire’s going to bite him in the ass for having been balls deep inside you. Hunnigan’s gonna let out one of those disappointed mother sighs she does on the regular, Rebecca and Sherry will look at him like vintage damsels in distress. Chris is going to go Oh my God, Leon in his constipated voice, Jill won’t even spare him a second glance. Ashley will gasp and clutch her heart like it is the biggest betrayal since the ‘09 presidential election. 

When the day comes, he’ll take it, face it like a man. 

(Take Matilda in his hand and set you free.)

But when you cuddle up against him all sweetly like that, spooning Leon like he’s your personal oversized teddy bear, he might just reconsider. Reconsider taking the easy way out, reconsider his position, might retire and take on the full-time job of being your Daddy for the rest of his life. 

Leon’s got everything he needs right here. He is ready for the long haul that might be the next couple of decades of his life, or the next twenty-four hours. 

[tyrannosaurus-trainwreck]

It also fucking bugs me that nobody can ever seem to really commit to the cyberpunk premise of the Protagonist Who Hates Robots (see also, the cyberpunk premise of "Wouldn't it be Super Fucked Up™, actually, for a company to be able to repo your goddamned arm or turn off your eyes?") during the execution.

Which is flabbergasting, considering we've had almost a full decade of Alexa pinky-promising not to officially listen to anything until you do its summoning ritual and then turning around and emailing your boss a transcript of you bitching about them to your spouse over dinner. We've had at least five years of being able to get your Tesla unlocked remotely just by @-ing Musk on twitter.

The cute robot dogs are being leased to police departments, reputation management firms have been deploying armies of social media reply-bots in astroturf campaigns, customer service chatbots have become damn near indecipherable as their programmers attempt to make them seem more personable, etc. etc. etc.

We don't even need to reach for "Wouldn't it be Super Fucked Up™, actually, if corporations made simulacra better and better at faking humanity in order to manipulate people?"

"Wouldn't it be Super Fucked Up™, actually, if your car could mimic sadness or pain if you declined an extended warranty, or if your phone begged for its life if you tried to jailbreak it, or WeightWatchers paid your fridge to neg you every time you went for a midnight snack?"

"Wouldn't it be Super Fucked Up™, actually, if you pointed out how gross it is that your smart-assistant is programmed to act like your friend in order to build a more accurate marketing profile and your buddy acted like you just said dogs can't feel love and his beloved pet only sees him as a walking treat-dispenser?"

"Wouldn't it be Super Fucked Up™, actually, if you were surrounded by unfeeling things that can and would rip you and all of your loved ones apart at a moment's notice if they got the right/wrong order from some unaccountable law enforcement flack, and everyone else just kind of shrugged and went 'It's probably fine, why are you hyperventilating about it, it's not like you've done anything wrong'?"

They're all quite literally right there in front of our faces!

But it's harder to make "the way robots have been integrated into society is bad, actually, and the protagonist is largely right" into a sexy thriller with a love interest or a buddy-cop duo, and the hyperconservative media environment we're dealing with right now isn't exactly amenable to the robots being a metaphor for corporate intrusion and loss of privacy and authoritarian overreach, so here we are, with robots who generally aren't people, except sometimes you find a special robot--one of the Good Ones--who actually is a person, and that's how we all learn that Prejudice Is Bad, or something.