Hiro Homada flew into his room and removed his helmet. He breathed heavily, exhausted yet exulted by the day’s exertions.
He’d taken only a few steps when his eyes fell on the red box that housed his erstwhile friend Baymax. Baymax had once been a member of the Big Hero 6, which Hiro had formed some two years ago, aged just 14, but of late they’d had to rebrand themselves the Big Hero 5, as Baymax had started acting weird.
The other crimefighters suggested he may have computer senility. Whatever the reason, Hiro was sad that he’d had to excise the cuddly robot from the group.
But he couldn’t dwell on it.
He turned to his computer, bringing up the ever-present window listing illegal bot fights in the city. Hiro no longer competed. Now the Big Hero 5 broke up the gatherings, one of their many vigilante duties.
Just then a pop-up appeared, showing a naked woman doing questionable things with a root vegetable. Hiro stared transfixed, suddenly becoming aware of a sharp pain in his groin, as his penis leapt to a full, Viagra-like erection within the unyielding codpiece of his armour.
“Ow!” he yelped.
A hissing sound signalled the arrival of Baymax.
Hiro turned to see the 6-foot mallow-like figure standing in his recharging box, staring at him benignly.
“Hello,” said the robot, spouting his familiar rhetoric, “I am Baymax, your personal healthcare companion. I was alerted to your distress when you said ‘ow’.”
“S’alright, Baymax,” said Hiro warily, “False alarm. Get back in your-”
“I will now scan you…” said Baymax.
“Fuck’s sake,” said Hiro.
“Scan complete. You are experiencing bouts of intense sexual arousal, consistent with adolescents of your age. Allow me to help.”
There was a faint whirring sound as an aperture appeared at Baymax’s crotch. Both parties stood frozen, unsure how to proceed.
“Er, no thanks,” said Hiro.
“I wish to relieve your frustration,” said Baymax cheerily.
“Seriously, that won’t be…”
Hiro stared into his robot’s eyes, his head cocked as though not understanding what he’d done wrong. Hiro sighed.
He gingerly placed his hands on Baymax’s vinyl abdomen, and started to edge towards the inviting socket. Suddenly a high-pitched wheezing sound pierced the air, and a colourful party blower unfurled from Baymax’s makeshift fleshlight. Hiro sprang backwards.
“Sexual relations with robots is not conducive to emotional and mental wellbeing. I can, however, replicate the endorphin rush created by intercourse, via the use of humour.”
“That’s not funny!” bellowed Hiro, turning away.
“I cannot deactivate until you say you are satisfied with your care.”
“Fuck you!” roared Hiro, drawing his screen and collapsing onto his bed, his face burning.
Baymax stood there in a deafening silence, then mournfully retracted his party blower. After a time his attention fell on Hiro’s computer, and he waddled over for a closer look.
The sun was setting, and Hiro tried in vain to sleep, as the sound of squeaking vinyl permeated his room.
~ James Le Lacheur 2015