Moondancer and her Sapient Dildo Boyfriend

I awoke.

For most, this would not be unusual. Many animals require sleep to function properly. But I knew I wasn’t an animal. Or a person, or an alien, or what have you. In truth, the fact that I could suddenly know anything at all should have been impossible, beyond reckoning. Because I was a Beanis.

Being a Beanis, I had always been able to feel, my purpose to stimulate and be stimulated. Instill pleasure. However, miraculously, I could also attach meaning to sensation. I was resting somewhere, a hard surface on one side of my body, a soft one on the other.

And then, I remembered, this too a shock. Memories of my birth, forged from magic and plant protein in a Beanis Inc. manufacturing plant. A simulacrum of the most captivating phallus of the modern era. There were many models, coming and cumming in all shapes and sizes, but I was the standard twelve inch version. That day, I was packaged and shipped out, soon arriving directly on the doorstep of the young woman who purchased me. It must have happened months ago, given my experiences since.

Thinking (I was thinking!) on that, I realized where I was: buried under some intimate garments in her underwear drawer. My body stirred to full rigidity, without so much as a single caress, from the notion alone. Every experience we’d shared, and I had never felt this with her. It was different, and exciting. Previously, she’d been all business, skipping the foreplay and shoving me straight inside her loins.

Sadly, that was how it would stay, unless I could somehow convey to her that I’d changed. Though our couplings were brief, she treated me well, even cleaned me afterwards without fail. I wanted to do more for her, bring her joy emotionally, not just physically.

How could I do that, though? I was a Beanis, a cutting edge marital aid and nothing more. Without a mouth to form speech, a face to emote, or hands to gesture, in what manner could I communicate? The answer came to me with surprising ease, and not a moment too soon.

For suddenly, I heard muffled footsteps. I could hear? It must have been magic. As it turned out, I could see in all directions too, as orange light filtered through the plain white panties above me when the drawer slid open with the grinding of wood. The actual kind.

“Ugh, I really need this today,” groaned a female voice. It was her, my owner and lover.

As she peeled the panties away, I beheld her for the first time. She had skin the color of sweet cream, and her coral pink hair was pulled into a little updo I instantly deemed cute. She wore black glasses and a thick, dark sweater. I found her eyes, and couldn’t look away, the depth within them speaking of great intelligence. Either that, or great exhaustion. Maybe both. I didn’t have much practice reading people at this point. Still, one thing was certain: I had to reach out.

She did the same, extracting me from the drawer with a tender hand. Carrying me up to her eye level, her head tilted slightly in confusion. “That’s curious. It’s already throbbing.”

I made my move, one of the only things I could do. I twitched. Not randomly, as was the norm, but in a pattern, one I prayed she would recognise.

At first, it seemed like it wasn’t working. She shrugged, carrying me over to a twin-sized bed that had been crammed next to a bookshelf. Unceremoniously, she dropped her panties, but didn’t bother to remove her sweater, and peeled back the blanket. Then, she plopped down onto the mattress. Finally, she leaned over to grab a tablet computer off her nightstand, and was clearly about to boot the thing up, when I finished my message and begun to repeat it.

Her eyes widened, and she turned back to me. “No. No, it couldn’t be Morse code.” Brow furrowing in focus, she sounded off the letters aloud as I transmitted them. “H… E… L… L… O— Gah!”

She dropped me like I was on fire, scrambling backwards against the headboard, knees and elbows bunched, shaking like a leaf. It took her multiple deep breaths before she could speak again. “What the hell!? Did… did my Beanis just… greet me?”

As she stared with a look that hopefully was just shock, and not dread, I twitched a second message. “Yes.”

She blinked. Hard. Then, she took off her glasses, wiped them off on her undershirt, and blinked at me again. “Okay. O-kay. Well,” she deadpanned, now relatively calm. “Either, A, someone snuck into my house and slipped something very illegal into my food, or B, my dildo is self-aware. Which has a higher probability of actually happening?”

“B,” I sent.

Her hands fell to her sides. First, she went white. Then, she broke out into a furious blush. “Oh god, my Beanis is alive. I used it. Like, dozens of times! And I didn’t even ask for consent! Does that make me a rapist? Am I a rapist, now?”

“It’s fine,” I twitched.

Once that sunk in, she sighed in relief, the exhalation transitioning into a laugh. She scratched at her hair, pulling her legs under her. “Wow, this is awkward. Umm…”

“Your name?” I asked.

Her face had returned to a more neutral expression, at this point doing her best to roll with the conversation. “It’s Moondancer,” she said.

Moondancer. I would have smiled. “A beautiful name, for a beautiful woman.”

This was my longest sentence yet, taking over a full minute to send. By the time I was done, Moondancer’s blush had returned in full force. “T-That’s…” she trailed off, gulping. “Nobody’s ever said anything like that to me before. People say I’m frumpy.”

“You aren’t, though,” I sent.

Moondancer coughed, looking away bashfully. Her drifting eyes settled on her bare thighs, and she squeaked, only just realizing she was half-naked in front of polite company. Fumbling out of bed, she pulled her panties back on before sheepishly turning back to me.

“No need to hide that,” I twitched. “I’ve been there.”

“Still!” Moondancer protested. “I can barely have a proper dialogue with a perfectly ordinary stranger, let alone a Beanis! The less weird I have to think about, the easier this will be.”

I could understand that. This whole ordeal was new to me too. “Ok. How can I help?”

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she picked me back up. “Hmm. Do you have a name? Just calling you ‘Beanis’ would be like if you called me ‘Human’.”

“No,” I admitted. “You can pick one for me.”

Moondancer made a face. “Nope. Too weird. I’m going to say you’re an adult, otherwise this would be immeasurably messed up, and adults don’t let other adults name them.”

“I would. I’ve always lived for you,” I replied.

At this, she fidgeted, unjustly unused to such affection. “Um, okay. That’s…” She trailed off, taking a deep breath. “How about… Garbanzo?”

Not bad. It was bean related, masculine, and Hisponic, which was always sexier. “I like it.”

Moondancer exhaled in relief, moist air passing over me. “Great. Time for the big question: now what?”

“Regarding?” I asked.

“Our relationship,” she said, wearing a ponderous expression that seemed to fit. “I can’t in good conscience just keep you tucked in my drawer until I need to masturbate anymore. At the same time, getting a new Beanis would be horribly impolite. At least, I think so. My books on social etiquette weren’t exactly comprehensive in this area.”

She had a point. But I certainly knew what I wanted. “I could be your boyfriend.”

Moondancer sputtered, adjusting her glasses. “I really should have expected you would say that, Garbanzo.” Her stare went unfocused as she thought.

“If you’ll have me, I can try,” she eventually declared, her toothy smile a mix of thrill and apprehension. “I mean, we already know we work well together in the bedroom, hehehe. We’d be going in the reverse order of a typical courtship, though.”

“I don’t care,” I twitched. “I want to spend time with you, learn everything about you, Moondancer.”

In what was becoming a regular occurance, Moondancer blushed, her smile small but genuine. “Do we have a date, then?”

“It’s a date.”