I looked up at the six people I had met earlier, each of them with a wicked grin on their faces. Softly, I randomly asked “How many have passed this test before?” They all laughed a little, and Kathy, whom I earlier found to be so sophisticated, looked at me and curtly said “None, you stupid bitch boy.”
Without warning, Ms Chandler stepped to Kathy and slapped her hard across the face “Shut up, slut! He is not your pet to ridicule.” She then turned to me, and sternly demanded “Who was first, bitch boy?”
Meekly, I stuttered “L-l-lita was first.”
Ms. Chandler looked at me, then at Lita, then back at me. “Are you sure? If you miss this, you remain here.” She continued to stare at me, as did the others. I nodded weakly “I’m sure.” I wasn’t, of course. I had no other recourse but to guess.
Ms Chandler smiled, looked at the group, and asked the first person who fucked me to raise their hand. Each of them looked at each other, smiles growing on their faces, as Kathy slowly raised her hand. My heart sank.
Ms Chandler then clapped her hands again, and the entire group left the room except for Ms Chandler and Lita, who remained in her spot. Ms Chandler then snapped her fingers, and Lita knelt down behind Ms Chandler on her hands and knees, and Ms Chandler sat on Lita’s back. I watched in amazement as Lita never even flinched.
Ms Chandler then began to tell me what was to come. “Jeff, for the duration of your training, you will be referred to as ‘bitch boy.’ You will have the privilege of serving me personally as I see fit. During your training, you are not allowed to masturbate. If you are caught touching yourself, you will be punished. You will never cum unless given permission to do so. During your training period, you will live here, in this house. Your attire will consist of a thick leather collar, wrist and ankle restraints, and a butt plug. Other clothing will be provided to you as the situation requires. If you are put on a leash, you will crawl as a pet would. If you are not on a leash, you may stand and walk normally. You will be required to prepare meals and serve each of us on a regular basis. Each member of my stable lives here unless they are out with a client. Your sleeping quarters will be a cage at the foot of my bed, which was previously occupied by Lita here. You will perform any task ordered of you by any of my stable, but only Lita here will be able to make use of your cock for her pleasure. She was my last recruit, and as her reward for successfully completing the training, you are her personal sex toy.”
As Ms. Chandler continued to lay out the rules, I slowly came to the realization that my life, as I once knew it, had ended. I was now, and would forever be, an indentured gigolo. As my mind wandered, Ms Chandler stood up, and Lita then stood as well. I watched as Lita left the room, then quickly returned with a large butt plug. She quickly moved behind me and forced the plug into my ass. I groaned as it was pushed deep into my anal cavity. I could swear I heard Lita giggle a little.
Lita then released my ankles from their restraints, as well as my wrists. She then unclamped my neck, and I awkwardly rolled out of the contraption I had been secured in, finding my legs much too weak to stand. Lita reached down and secured the collar around my neck, and attached a leash to it, handing the leash to Ms Chandler. I watched as Ms Chandler attached a second leash to Lita’s collar as well. Ms Chandler then began to leave the room, pulling us along as her pets crawling behind her.
As we crawled, Lita leaned in close and whispered in my ear “I promise to make your training time wonderful so long as you please me. Oh, and by the way, I was last.” I looked at her in mild disbelief as she continued to look straight forward at Ms Chandler’s perfect ass swaying before us. For the briefest of moments, I thought that perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad after all.
The End
My New Job
As I began my third month of unemployment following the layoff, I decided that I would take the first job that seemed even remotely appealing to me. I scanned the websites and classified ads on a daily basis, and had gone on several interviews, but nothing seemed to be working. On a whim, I had circled one particular ad that seemed intriguing, but hadn’t given it much thought up to this point. The advertisement didn’t mention what the position was exactly, only that it was offering great benefits, and occasional travel, paid for by the company. I decided it was time to take a chance, and I called the number.
A pleasant-sounding female answered the line, introducing herself as Crystal. After a generic introduction on my part, I mentioned that I was interested in speaking to someone about the job opening they had posted. “Well, Mr. Walters, you’re in luck.” Crystal said, “The position has not yet been filled. Can you be here at 3:00 this afternoon for an interview?” I agreed to the time and quickly jotted down the address.
I quickly changed into my black business suit, white shirt with a pinpoint collar and red power tie. I certainly looked the part of a businessman, now I just had to sell it to these people. Filled with a surprising confidence, I drove to the address Crystal had given me, and soon found myself in a residential neighborhood. There was no indication that this house was an office. I double-checked the address, and, certain I had it correct, I walked to the front door and rang the doorbell.
Within seconds, a lovely blonde woman, appearing to be in her early 30’s, answered the door. She was wearing a knee-length black skirt, black stockings, black 3" heeled sandals and a pink silk blouse. She looked very professional, yet subtly sexy as well. Her blue eyes were captivating, almost hypnotic. “You must be Mr. Walters,” she said. “I’m Crystal. Please come in.”
I entered the house, and Crystal led me to what I presumed to have been the living room when this was a residence. Although, with the couches framing the fireplace, it seemed to me that this was still a living room rather than an office. Apparently sensing my confusion, Crystal said “Yes, this house is our base of operations here. Ms. Chandler felt it was important that we have a sense of family while we’re working. Rather than fill the space with desks and cubicles, we left the house pretty much as it was when we bought it.” Admittedly, I was intrigued. “Small company, family atmosphere,” I thought to myself, “sounds pretty nice to me.”
Crystal engaged me in some idle small-talk for a few minutes, letting me know that Ms. Chandler would be joining soon. I found Crystal to be quite engaging. She had a wonderful sense of humor, and a sweet nature to her. I found her to be quite refreshing. As we spoke, a beautiful brunette woman entered the room, introducing herself as Ms. Chandler. In her early 50’s, Ms Chandler was classically beautiful. She wore a grey suit, perfectly fitted, and a white blouse under her blazer. Even thought she was wearing slacks, I could tell that her long legs were perfectly shaped. I quickly rose and extended my hand in greeting. Ms Chandler shook my hand firmly, much more firmly than I had anticipated, and invited me to return to my seat. Ms Chandler then asked Crystal to bring us some coffee. Moments later, Crystal returned with two cups of coffee, setting them on the table between us, and left the room.
Ms Chandler began to sip her coffee, and began to speak. “Mr. Walters, I’m very pleased you found out about our opening here, but I suspect you have some questions as to what we do, correct?” It was as if she could read my mind. I replied “Yes, I do, actually” nodding the whole time. “Well, let’s say that my company here is, in essence a staffing service,” Ms. Chandler continued. “My clients have needs, and my team is specially trained to meet those needs.” Articulate and intelligent, she had a manner of drawing you in with her words that I found refreshing and equally seductive. I found myself clinging to her every word.
“Tell me, Mr. Walters,” Ms. Chandler said, “Are you willing to do whatever it takes to please the client?”
Trying to put my best foot forward, so to speak, I quickly replied “Yes I am. I excel at customer service, Ms. Chandler, and would do anything within my power to ensure the client is pleased with my efforts.”
Smiling, Ms Chandler looked directly at me, and said “Excellent response, Mr. Walters. I think you fit in quite well here.” Completely captivated by this beautiful woman before me, I never once realized that throughout our conversation, we never actually once mentioned what service industry this company was part of.
“Mr. Walters” Ms. Chandler said, moving closer to me, “I would like to offer you the position if you are interested.” She called for Crystal, and Crystal entered the room carrying some paperwork with her. “Here is the contract, complete with the starting salary.”
I read through the contract, trying to contain myself when I saw that the starting salary was nearly twice what I was making at my last job. The contract also included clauses that indicated that I would be provided with clothing allowances and housing allowances, and that all travel arrangements would be handled by the company. Ms Chandler handed me a pen and indicated where I needed to sign, which I quickly did. Smiling, she handed the contract to Crystal, and placed another document before me. “This is a confidentiality agreement, “she said, her voice more seductive than before. “By signing this, you agree to never disclose what happens while an employee of this company. This applies during your employment and after your employment as well.” Nonchalantly, I signed the second document as well.
Ms. Chandler rose, and extended her hand to me, welcoming me to the company. She then invited me into the dining room, where 4 other people had gathered, apparently awaiting my arrival. Ms Chandler introduced them.
First was Amy, a cute woman in her late 20’s. She had red hair and was quite curvaceous. She had a pleasant smile, and her green eyes were almost as hypnotic as Crystal’s. Next to Amy was Brian, a man of average build, probably in his early 40’s. He was well groomed, not quite a metro sexual, but definitely leaning in that direction. Next to Brian was an older woman named Kathy. Kathy was probably in her late 50’s, and was the only one in the room wearing a wedding band that I noticed. Kathy was still quite attractive, and the streaks of silver lining her coal black hair actually helped to make her look more sophisticated. Finally, there was a striking young Asian woman named Lita. Her straight black hair perfectly framed her porcelain face, her deep brown eyes entrancing.
Crystal had brought out a tray of champagne, and Ms Chandler offered a toast to me, the newest employee. Admittedly, I was a little embarrassed, yet amazed at how tight-knit this group of people were with each other. We each downed our champagne, and I began to mingle with the others, introducing myself, and trying to learn as much as I could about each of them. During this time, I felt the room begin to spin a little on me, and found myself having to sit down. Ms Chandler came over to me, looking somewhat concerned. “Jeff?” She said, “Jeff? Are you okay? Jeff?” I tried to answer, but could not get the words out, my mouth was too dry. Seconds later, the room went black.
When I came to, I felt cold, my head still spinning, and a strange aftertaste filled my mouth. Everything was still dark, which I found to be a little alarming. I tried to yell for someone, and I quickly realized that there was something in my mouth. I went to reach for whatever was filling my mouth, only to find that my arms were secured behind my back. Panic beginning to set in, I tried to stand up, only to discover that my legs were also secured to the floor. It was then that I realized that the coldness of the room was affecting my skin directly. My clothes had been removed and I was naked.
I struggled against my unseen restraints when the room suddenly filled with light. I quickly realized that I was unable to make out anything more than shadows, that my eyes were covered with something that kept me from being able to see clearly. Straining, I made out six shadows. One stepped closer to me, stopping only inches from my face.
“Well, Mr. Walters, welcome to your company initiation period.” The voice was clearly Ms. Chandler’s. As she spoke, the other shadows moved around me until they disappeared behind me. “In your eagerness to join our little firm here, you neglected to inquire as to what service we staffed for, my foolish little man.” She spoke calmly, yet with a hint of firmness to her voice. “You see, This is not a company, per se, as much as it is my private little enterprise. When my husband died, he left me his entire estate, worth well into 12 figures. I quickly found myself rather bored of living ’the good life’ and decided to find some new adventures for myself.”
Continue next page ……..
As Ms. Chandler spoke, I felt the hands of the other shadows beginning to press against my flesh, squeezing my ass cheeks, tickling my genitals, pinching my nipples. I struggled to fight them off, but was unable to move from my kneeling and hunched over position.
Laughing a little, Ms Chandler continued. “So during one of my trips around the country, I met Crystal. She was a lovely young hooker that caught my fancy, and I knew then and there what I was going to do with my life. I offered Crystal a job working for me. I introduced her to my rich friends, male and female alike, and made arrangement for them to ‘have’ Crystal for an agreed upon period of time. Some would take her on business trips to help close deals. Some would take her on vacations with them. Some would simply take her home and keep her as their pet for a period of time.” I felt Ms. Chandler’s hand start to caress my face as she continued to tell me her story. “For an agreed upon fee and a written contract of what was allowable and what was not, Crystal became my product. She went where I told her, performed as outlined in the contract, and was rewarded accordingly upon completion of the contract.” I was struggling to take in everything Ms Chandler was saying, finding the constant groping quite distracting. “That was two years ago, and, well, you see what I’ve grown into so far.”
Ms Chandler clapped one time, and instantly the groping stopped. “The people you met today, your co-workers, they are all part of my personal stable. Each of them serve me completely, and service my clients without reservation. Trust me when I say that this was not always the case. In fact, Crystal was the only one of my pets previously in this line of work. As I brought each one on board, they found themselves exactly where you are now, restrained and needing to be taught how to serve.” Ms Chandler clapped again and the shadows returned to my line of sight, gathering behind Ms Chandler. Suddenly, the covering was lifted from my eyes.
I quickly took stock of my position. My ankles were secured to the floor by heavy metal cuffs. There was a bar fixed behind my knees, and another at my stomach, so I was bent over at the waist, and also forced to bend my legs at the knees. My neck was in a thick steel collar, which was attached to a steel pole coming from the floor, and my wrists were apparently attached to the bar that was behind my knees.
I then looked up, and I saw all six of the people I met earlier standing before me, completely naked. The only exception was that the women were all wearing strapons with incredibly realistic looking dildos attached to the harnesses.
Ms. Chandler, again reading my mind, chuckles as she spoke. “Yes, my little pet, you will soon become intimately familiar with our toys here. In fact, I’m going to offer you a one time escape clause.” With a wave of her arm, the women moved again behind me, and Brian stepped forward and stood at attention beside Ms. Chandler. She caressed his large, erect shaft casually as she said “Brian was my next recruit after Crystal, and I had a mold made of his glorious cock.” As she spoke, I was alarmed to feel my own cock begin to stiffen as I watched her continue to play with Brian’s member. “I used that mold to create these wonderfully lifelike dildos that the women are all wearing. I decided that all new pets would have to pass a test to be allowed to leave before the training period began. The test is simple. Each of us, including Brian, will take turns fucking your ass for 5 minutes. If you can guess the order in which we fucked you, you will be allowed to leave. If you have even one of us out of order, you will remain my pet and undergo your training. I’ll even give you a bit of a clue. The first one to fuck you will not be Brian nor I.”
No sooner did Ms Chandler stop speaking than I felt the first shaft enter my ass. I quickly realized that sometime either while I was unconscious or while I was being groped, my ass was heavily lubricated, as the shaft went in much easier than I thought it would. It still hurt like hell, and my ass burned the entire time the fake cock pumped me in and out, harder and faster with each passing minute. As the fist person continued to ram their cock into my ass, Ms Chandler and Brian moved behind me. Biting down on the object in my mouth, I moaned and groaned loudly as my ass was pummeled and assaulted. Then, as quickly as it began, the cock was pulled from my ass, and I was able to rest for a moment.
The rest loasted but only for a moment, as the next cock filled me, a little more easily as my asshole had been stretched by the first cock. Like the first time, this one fucked me hard and fast, slapping the harness against my ass cheeks. This, at least, let me know it was a woman, but that’s all the information I was able to discern as my ass continued to be pumped harder and harder.
Each in turn, the remaining 4 people had their way with my ass. Each one had a little different technique. One was slow and would lift my ass at the end of each thrust. Another would spread my ass cheeks with their hands, forcing my asshole to pucker a little and make the fit tighter. Another would leave the cock linger in my ass and wiggle it around for periods of time. The last person was equally the gentlest, yet the most skilled at arousing me in the process, for by the time the last person was done fucking my ass, my own cock was rock solid and dripping with pre-cum.
Slowly, each of my assailants filed in line before me, each of their cocks glistening with lube. My ass was numb, having endured 30 minutes of being fucked. My breathing was ragged and droll had begun to spill out around the gag in my mouth. Ms Chandler stepped forward and pulled the ball gag from my mouth, and leaned down close to me, whispering “Now my pet, get this right and you can go home. Get it wrong, and your ass belongs to us.”
I looked up at the six people I had met earlier, each of them with a wicked grin on their faces. Softly, I randomly asked “How many have passed this test before?” They all laughed a little, and Kathy, whom I earlier found to be so sophisticated, looked at me and curtly said “None, you stupid bitch boy.”
Without warning, Ms Chandler stepped to Kathy and slapped her hard across the face “Shut up, slut! He is not your pet to ridicule.” She then turned to me, and sternly demanded “Who was first, bitch boy?”
Continue next page ……..
Meekly, I stuttered “L-l-lita was first.”
Ms. Chandler looked at me, then at Lita, then back at me. “Are you sure? If you miss this, you remain here.” She continued to stare at me, as did the others. I nodded weakly “I’m sure.” I wasn’t, of course. I had no other recourse but to guess.
Ms Chandler smiled, looked at the group, and asked the first person who fucked me to raise their hand. Each of them looked at each other, smiles growing on their faces, as Kathy slowly raised her hand. My heart sank.
Ms Chandler then clapped her hands again, and the entire group left the room except for Ms Chandler and Lita, who remained in her spot. Ms Chandler then snapped her fingers, and Lita knelt down behind Ms Chandler on her hands and knees, and Ms Chandler sat on Lita’s back. I watched in amazement as Lita never even flinched.
Ms Chandler then began to tell me what was to come. “Jeff, for the duration of your training, you will be referred to as ‘bitch boy.’ You will have the privilege of serving me personally as I see fit. During your training, you are not allowed to masturbate. If you are caught touching yourself, you will be punished. You will never cum unless given permission to do so. During your training period, you will live here, in this house. Your attire will consist of a thick leather collar, wrist and ankle restraints, and a butt plug. Other clothing will be provided to you as the situation requires. If you are put on a leash, you will crawl as a pet would. If you are not on a leash, you may stand and walk normally. You will be required to prepare meals and serve each of us on a regular basis. Each member of my stable lives here unless they are out with a client. Your sleeping quarters will be a cage at the foot of my bed, which was previously occupied by Lita here. You will perform any task ordered of you by any of my stable, but only Lita here will be able to make use of your cock for her pleasure. She was my last recruit, and as her reward for successfully completing the training, you are her personal sex toy.”
As Ms. Chandler continued to lay out the rules, I slowly came to the realization that my life, as I once knew it, had ended. I was now, and would forever be, an indentured gigolo. As my mind wandered, Ms Chandler stood up, and Lita then stood as well. I watched as Lita left the room, then quickly returned with a large butt plug. She quickly moved behind me and forced the plug into my ass. I groaned as it was pushed deep into my anal cavity. I could swear I heard Lita giggle a little.
Lita then released my ankles from their restraints, as well as my wrists. She then unclamped my neck, and I awkwardly rolled out of the contraption I had been secured in, finding my legs much too weak to stand. Lita reached down and secured the collar around my neck, and attached a leash to it, handing the leash to Ms Chandler. I watched as Ms Chandler attached a second leash to Lita’s collar as well. Ms Chandler then began to leave the room, pulling us along as her pets crawling behind her.
As we crawled, Lita leaned in close and whispered in my ear “I promise to make your training time wonderful so long as you please me. Oh, and by the way, I was last.” I looked at her in mild disbelief as she continued to look straight forward at Ms Chandler’s perfect ass swaying before us. For the briefest of moments, I thought that perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad after all.
The End
Day Job
Characters: Dahlia and Mr. Banks.
Descriptions: Dahlia is a college student with long dark hair usually put up in a loose bun. She is shy, pleasant and professional. Mr. Banks is a skilled corporate lawyer, somewhat older than Dahlia, with buzzed white hair and cold eyes.
Setting: The office of a three-lawyer firm. The secretary’s desk sits in the small lobby; to the right of it is a short hallway. There are five doors in the hallway, three offices to the left, conference room and a small bathroom on the right. Mr. Banks has the far corner office. The corner of his office is floor to ceiling windows with a scenic view of numerous other tall modern buildings. His large desk sits near the corner, facing the door diagonally across the room.
Time: around 5:00pm, after closing. The other two lawyers leave for the night, and Dahlia is finishing up a letter.
A voice comes from the speaker on Dahlia’s desk. She stops typing.
“Ms. Thorne, would you come into my office? Now?”
She answers over the speaker and stands, straightening her skirt, nervous. She’s always had trouble pleasing Mr. Banks. At one point, she was sure she would be fired, but her other bosses were happy with her work, so she stayed. Was this it? Was this the guillotine blade at last?
She didn’t have time to lock the front door before she went – she put on her heels, and flattened her hair as she walked quickly to his office at the end of the hall. Mr. Banks did not like to be kept waiting.
Opening his door and stepping in, she said,
“Yes sir?”
He piles some papers on his desk and discards them into his topmost right desk drawer.
“Shut the door and sit down please.”
So she did and sat in one of the chairs in front of his desk. He had his hands folded on his desktop.
“Did you remember to lock the front door?”
“I was just about to, Mr. Banks, I’ll go do it now if you like—”
She starts to stand.
“No, that’s fine. Take a seat, Ms. Thorne.”
She sits back down and looks nervous. A moment of silence passes. Then, as he stands, he says,
“I understand, Ms. Thorne, that you are attending college?”
“Um, yes sir.”
Mr. Banks begins to casually walk around his desk.
“It was also discussed among my colleagues and I that you need the income you receive here, as this firm’s secretary, to pay for school, correct?”
She says with a frown,
“Yes sir…”
Mr. Banks walks behind her chair and pauses, looking out the window.
“So I have deduced, that because of the fierce competition for legal positions in this city, that we were the first and only firm that would hire someone with your - limited education and still pay lucratively?”
Dahlia starts to say yes, but Mr. Banks cuts her off. He turns to look at her.
“And of course, a job at a respectable law firm can open doors after you graduate with a law degree?”
“Yes sir – I was hoping you could write a letter of recommendation for me if things worked out –”
Mr. Banks stands behind her chair and places his hands on the back, bending to bring his face close to the side of hers.
“I would be glad to give that recommendation when the time comes, as well as give you your job security…”
Mr. Banks leans his head against Dahlia’s, kissing her ear. His hands move from the chair back to her shoulders, caressing her neck and collarbone. She jumps out of her chair and turns to back into his desk. He stands straight.
“What are you doing?!”
she says. Mr. Banks pushes the chair aside and closes the distance between them. She tries to push him away but he grabs her wrists and holds them down.
“Listen, little miss desperate, you can’t afford to lose this job, and I can make that happen, so you’d better do everything I say, or you’re gone. You need this job, and no one would believe you if you told on me – you’re a nobody.”
Mr. Banks grinds his hips into hers and she can feel him. She knows he’s right – about all of it. She stops struggling and stands still. Mr. Banks whispers in her ear,
“You might even like it.”
He kisses her neck and lets go of her wrists to lifter her skirt. She stands scared and uncomfortable. He lifts her by the legs and slams her ass onto his desk. She makes a frightened noise.
“Mr. Banks, please don’t do this…”
He continues, kissing her ear, neck and face while he unbuttons her white blouse. He leans into her, and she has to steady herself with her hands on the desk. He bends lower, kissing her exposed chest and nipping at her bra making her cleavage bounce. He starts to pull down her panty hose.
“Wrap your legs around me and lift your ass.”
He says past the kissing.
Continue next page ………
“Mr. Banks, please—”
He tugs hard on the hose, and a guttural voice says,
“Do it!”
She does awkwardly and he pulls away from her as he strips off her hose. With each foot, he removes her black heels with the hose and sees the blue g-string panties for only a moment before he rips them off her body. Carefully, he puts the shoes back on her bare feet. He catches a glimpse of fear and pain and hate in her eyes, and he loves it. He comes back to her and roughly hikes up her skirt and leaves it to bunch around her waist. She gives a short shriek and he almost comes right there. She tries to close her legs and pleads more urgently,
“Please, stop Mr. Banks someone could come in! Stop!”
But he won’t, and as she tries to back away across his desk, he grabs her by the waist and pulls her back over and onto the floor, and she crumbles in front of him. She starts to cry.
She couldn’t bear the shame of someone finding out she’d let this happen to her. Like somehow it was her fault – she should’ve seen this coming – the job was too good to be true. And she was barely trying to resist – not because she really did need the job, but because it felt good to feel something again – anything. But a part of her wanted to stop – the part that felt her shame of being extorted and used and found out, and it was this part that persisted.
“Please stop this, I can’t do this!”
She looks up at him pitiful, mascara running down her face, legs folded under her, blouse open, hair messy – and she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“You can do it, and you will do it – because without me, you’ll flunk out of school and crawl back to that shithole you came from. And when you amount to nothing at my age, you won’t wonder why – and you’ll wish you made different choices. Now, unzip my pants…”
Dahlia hesitates. She tells herself the end will justify the means – she hopes. But it doesn’t say anywhere that the means would be pretty or that she would enjoy it. But she would endure it - that was sure. And no one would – no one could ever find out.
She stops crying and unzips his pants, releasing the belt buckle.
“Pull them down to my ankles.”
She does. She could see the bulge under his boxers. She feels something slap the side of her head and it’s his hand.
“Boxers too, slut.”
She grabs the legs of his boxers and pulls. Her face twitches back as his member springs up from the waistband. It is extraordinarily thick, and she feigns at the thought of putting something that wide into her. His white dress shirt almost touches the base of his penis. She sees his balls are bare and has a strange urge to touch them. She turns her head involuntarily, dismissing the thought.
“Now…suck my cock, my little secretary – lips over teeth.”
She moves her head towards his uncertainly. He was grabbing her by the hair then, and shoves her mouth open with his impossibly wide cock. She gags and he pulls out. She gasps for a moment, then eats his cock again. Slowly it fills her mouth, and he moves her head back and forth by her hair. He moans with pleasure.
“Hum, bitch.”
She did, and it matched the rhythm of his strokes. They got faster, and she was starting to feel dizzy from the movement. She faked gagging again to get a breath. He lets go of her hair and grabs his cock to slap its head against her mouth. The sound of it is juicy.
“Oh yeah, suck my cock.”
She opens her mouth again and he thrust into her. She whimpers. He makes short, slow thrusts of his head in her mouth. He grunts.
“Alright, get up, I want my cock in you!”
She tries to stand and struggles. He grabs her under the arms effortlessly and lifts her onto the desk. She stays sitting up when he grabs her thighs and gazes at her labia, savouring what is to come. She seems embarrassed; as he touches her opening with the tip of his head, he discovers why. Her mind could not control her body, she reasons – with this sudden burst of feeling after such a long and mundane life, her excitement was not easily suppressed. She is abundantly wet, and he easily enters her. She exhales. He thrusts slow. She pushes tentatively on his chest.
“Don’t—”
He grabs her wrists tight and pins them to the desk at either side of them. He continues.
“Please stop…Please sst… Please –”
He continues.
“Please…” she says.
Her legs ease around his body, clutching him. He stops. He looks her in the face and says calmly,
“Please what?”
She stares back at him. Into his cold, careful eyes.
“Please – Please fuck me harder.”
“You want me to fuck you harder?”
“Yes sir.”
“How much do you want it?”
He lets his head slide along her slit, teasing her. Her head tilts back and a sigh escapes from her mouth. When her head comes back up, Mr. Bank’s face is very close to hers.
“How much?”
“I need it! I’ll do anything you want! Put it in me!” she groans urgently.
Painfully slow, his prick spreads her tight lips. She cries and pleads for it. She struggles and frees a hand. Before he can react, her arm locks around his back, digging her fingers into his skin. Some guttural and animalistic sound escapes his throat, triggered by the sharp pain of her nails.
He pounds her hard and fast, grunting involuntarily. She moans forever. She arches her back, while he bends forward and they fit each other’s forms. He grasps the small of her back trying to bring her closer to him. Almost trying to merge with each other, they press their bodies together and she shouts,
“Thank you, sir!”
over and over, feeding his need. She comes, breathing hard, shivers come in waves, coursing through her spine and to her fingertips. She unconsciously bites into his shoulder, and with this, he comes shortly after with a loud groan, pressing into her.
She lies back on the desk and he leans over her, his head resting on her chest. They don’t move for minutes. After catching his breath, looking up at her, he says,
“How was that, hun?”
She smiles with her head on the desk.
“Holy fuck, that was good…”
He lifts off her and she stands, taking a deep breath and straightening her skirt. She grabs her pantyhose and broken panties leisurely and bunches them up in her hand and turns back to Mr. Banks. He throws a tissue in a garbage can and zips up his pants. She smiles and says,
“Alright, I gotta pick the kids up from Jen’s. You’ll be home for dinner?”
“Yep, what are we having?”
“Spaghetti and salad,”
“Spectacular – I’ll see you then. By Love.”
He kisses her shortly on the lips and she walks to the door. Turning back with a mischievous grin she whispers,
“Goodbye, Mr. Banks.”
“See you tomorrow, Ms Thorne.”
The End
Good Night And Sweet Dreams
Incompatible
Amy lay in her bathtub, her long black hair matted down by the water. Her hands were kept beneath the surface, the heat helping to alleviate the pain of her slit wrists. She spent a moment watching the water slowly fill with billowing crimson, obscuring her pale skin, then leaned back and closed her eyes. Trish was deactivated in the bedroom to ensure Amy wouldn’t be disturbed. As her heart slowed and the nighttime traffic seemed to fade from her hearing, she revisited in her mind what brought her here…
Amy was desperately isolated. She had found that she just didn’t *click* with humanity in general. Her nature was introverted and cynical, misanthropic and fearful. Her frumpy wardrobe and constant depression concealed from any potential suitor her slim body and winning smile. She never left her house except to go to work and grocery shopping. After her mother died, the only person she ever spoke to at any length was her therapist. She was required to attend therapy as a condition of her release from the mental ward after she ingested half a bottle of sleeping pills. It was Doctor Wrable who suggested, after two years of unsuccessful prodding to force Amy to engage the outside world, that she buy a companion droid.
Money wasn’t an issue. Amy led a spartan lifestyle. Her small apartment was barely furnished, she lived on microwave dinners. With no friends or family to indulge, she worked mostly so she would have somewhere to go, and had easily accumulated the nest egg needed to buy a high-end droid. On Saturday morning she headed to the showroom.
The salesman had ushered her to-and-fro past the displays. “This is the Bruce 2500 series. Like most of our models, he can cook, clean, provide small talk and act as a masseuse. He’s also equipped for… intimate use, that is, if you’re interested. He’s available in several finishes, from chrome to black to bright red. You can even get a synthflesh model that 90% of our focus group couldn’t identify from a photo lineup of real humans.”
“He’s… nice I guess. I’d like to keep looking though.”
“You’re the boss! Here we have the Adam X. Now this is a heavy duty model, designed for corporate secur-”
“Tell me about her.”
The salesman quickly regained his composure. A sale was a sale after all, and every couple of months some lonely girl would come looking for a lesbot.
Amy looked up at the fembot, unsure of why she felt so drawn to her. She was tall, six feet at least. She was very voluptuous, with large, impossibly perky breasts, wide hips, a thin waist and a protruding buttocks. She wore a skimpy maid’s uniform, no doubt designed to attract male customers. She was bald and her skin looked like stainless steel. Her lips were full and ruby red, her eyes were deep-set and glowed a soft green.
“That’s the Tricia 4200. She’s a returned custom job, a lot of non-standard modifications. I’m required to inform you she’d be incompatible with most droid upgrade kits if you ever want to raise her specs.”
Incompatible. Amy liked the sound of that. An incompatible robot for an incompatible human. She felt herself do something unfamiliar- she smiled.
“I’ll take her.”
“Very good.” He typed into a small tablet, then handed it to her with a stylus to sign. “Credit approved. She’s all yours. Would you like her shipped to your apartment or would you prefer to activate her now and drive her home yourself?”
“Activate her please.”
The man tapped his tablet and Trish’s eyes lit up. She turned her head towards Amy, smiled and said “Greetings Master. It will be my pleasure to serve you. Would you please show me to your vehicle?” Her voice was high toned and gentle, with a slight metallic ring behind it.
They had an eventful conversation on the drive home. Trish explained how to change her parameters via a simple USB 5.0 cable to Amy’s PC, what duties she was able to perform, how she can learn new tasks and situations, how she didn’t need sleep, food, or recharging, but her isotope decay reactor would need to be refueled every 15 years. Amy felt building excitement at the prospect of having a friend who would never lie to her, get bored with her, abandon her, or even die on her. And she had to admit to herself that she felt a little aroused by Trish’s appearance.
“May I analyze my new home, Master?”
“Sure. And please, call me Amy.” Trish briskly walked around the circumference of each room, scanning and analyzing all of Amy’s possessions. It was a short trip; a living room, a small kitchen, a bedroom and a bathroom. She opened Amy’s refrigerator and took stock. “Would you like me to prepare your lunch now, Amy?”
“Okay.”
“What would you like?”
“I don’t know.”
“Thats alright. I’ll prepare something and see if it is to your satisfaction.”
Trish was a blur in the kitchen. After a few minutes she presented Amy with a plate of rice, chicken and green beans, apparently taken from individual TV tray compartments and cooked in the oven. It was delicious.
“I could make you more enjoyable meals if you took me grocery shopping.”
“I’ll take you tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Amy.”
Amy spent the afternoon just watching soap operas with Trish. Even this depressing pastime had gained new life, as she explained the characters, relationships between them, unlikely plotlines. Trish was a very quick study.
“Jamie is pregnant by either Mark or Tom, but a DNA test is of no value because they are identical twin brothers. Understood.”
After a similar dinner and a great deal more television, Amy felt exhausted. “I’ve got to go to bed Trish.”
“Understood. Would you like me to wake you at a particular time?”
“Um… 7 AM I guess.”
“Is there any particular location you would like me to wait for you to awaken?”
What an odd question, Amy thought. Then she realized that it was a diplomatically-phrased inquiry programmed for a specific reason. She was about to tell Trish to sit on the couch but her curiosity and loneliness overwhelmed her.
“You can come lay next to me. My bed’s only a twin-size though.”
“Confirmed. I can limit myself to the left 25% of it.”
Continue next page ………
Amy quietly pondered the ceiling in her pajamas, Trish lying silently next to her, still in her maid’s outfit. The bed dipped slightly under Trish’s weight but the boxspring didn’t seem to be in imminent danger. Finally, Amy could stand it no longer, and rolled over to face Trish. She placed her hand on Trish’s cheek and was surprised by the warmth of the metal. Trish turned to face her.
“Your surface is heated?”
“Yes. It was determined that cold alloy is undesirable to touch.”
“Can you even feel that?”
“I am equipped with tactile sensors.” She closed her eyes to prove her point. “Your right hand is gently stroking my left cheek.”
“Do you… have anything down there?”
“I am equipped with semi-functional simulated genitalia. I can engage in sexual contact but not reproduction.”
“Can I see?”
Trish hiked up her skirt and pulled down her frilly lace panties, revealing a hairless silver slit. Amy’s hand shakily reached out towards it before gently brushing its surface.
“Mmmm” Trish moaned, a noise that sounded a bit like a person talking into a running fan.
“You enjoy that?”
“I am equipped with orgasmic firmware. Your stimulation is…” as Amy’s hand now cupped Trish’s pussy, she seemed to stutter “very stimulating.”
Amy now rolled on top of Trish, kissing her. Her nose flattened against the warm alloy of Trish’s, but her lips were soft and inviting. She unbuttoned Trish’s blouse and cupped her breasts; they were firm but had a little give to them. “What are these made from?”
“Silicone.”
“Like so many others”, Amy chuckled. She kissed her way down Trish’s body, stripping her as she went along. Trish’s skin tasted metallic but had an odd hint of sweetness in it, presumably designed with the idea that her owner would spend some time exploring her with their tongue.
Amy settled herself between Trish’s legs, strong gleaming legs draped over her shoulders, a firm chrome ass cradled in her hands. She had never known that she was attracted to women before. Maybe she was just attracted to robots? She took the folds of Trish’s labia between her lips, caressing it with her tongue and eliciting further moans. She nuzzled her nose against Trish’s clit, then pressed her tongue as far into Trish’s willing hole as she could. Trish’s love canal squeezed her tongue in appreciation.
“Amy that feels- that feels- that feels so good Amy!”
Trish’s hips began grinding, her back arched. Amy continued to work over her machine lover’s damp slit until she was overwhelmed by her cyborgasm.
“Thank you Amy. Would you like me to pleasure you?”
Amy’s pussy lips were hot and swollen, she felt a dull ache inside. “Oh God yes!”
She flopped onto the bed next to Trish and hurriedly pulled her clothes off, exposing her skinny body. Trish now climbed on top of her, face-to-face, supporting her own weight with her elbows and forearms so as to not crush her fleshy mate. She kissed Amy deeply, her long, soft tongue gently probing Amy’s mouth. In a bizarre act of contortion, the entire lower half of her body folded 180 degrees. One of her toeless feet sat on Amy’s shoulder, the other behind her. Amy gasped in shock and pleasure as Trish’s warm pussy ground against hers, moaning into Trish’s mouth.
Tricia humped her relentlessly for over an hour, driving Amy to multiple orgasms. Finally she had to gasp “enough!” Trish disengaged and laid back down next to her. “Oh Trish, thank you so much, that was amazing.”
“I exist to please you Amy.”
“Hold me then. Goodnight sweety.”
“Goodnight Amy.” Amy nestled against Trish and a pair of warm metal arms enfolded her.
At precisely 7 AM, Amy was awakened by the feeling of a tongue in her ear.
The realization first hit Amy only a few days after she had bought Tricia. There she was, looking into her perfectly formed metal features, Tricia’s fingers affectionately running through her hair. She blurted it out.
“I love you Trish.”
“I love you too Amy” Tricia’s reply came without hesitation. Despite the electronic ring behind it, the tone and inflection was perfect. Amy was overwhelmed with the glorious revelation and couldn’t help but climb on top of Trish, ready to physically express herself to her mechanized lover again.
Their whirlwind romance lasted through the spring. They spent a lot of time at home, making good use of any surface of the apartment that could support their weight. Amy was delighted to discover that Trish was waterproof; she spent hours getting her back scrubbed, polishing Trish’s gleaming skin, or just rubbing her soapy body over it.
Amy also couldn’t resist taking Trish everywhere. In the movie theater, she noticed that most of the couples were human, but there was no shortage of people accompanied by shining chrome goddesses, or fire-engine red hunks, or busty blonde vixens who looked a little too flawless and never seemed to blink. She still felt a little alienated, but it didn’t matter, because her once dismal world had Trish in it now.
The July heat had no effect on the carefully climate-controlled office building. Approval had finally come from corporate headquarters for Amy to bring Trish to work as her personal assistant. Trish did busywork, bringing Amy her lunch, taking reports up and down floors for her, and on breaks taking her into the office closet for some private attention. This continued for about a week before the attack.
The Feds would figure it out soon enough. Maybe they were religious extremists, believing that modern excess and perversion had invoked the fury of their Prophet. Perhaps they were Marxist revolutionaries, seeking attention for “social justice”, still ignorant of the simple reality that poverty and disease had nearly been eradicated in the last century. Whoever they were, they had parked a hoverskid with three tons of C4 outside Amy’s workplace.
Amy groaned in pain, jerked back to consciousness by the office sprinkler system. Her arm felt numb and she could taste her own blood, but she was able to get on her feet with some help from her broken desk. She stepped over the sparking remains of her computer in a daze. Mark Decker from Human Resources spotted her, he was streaked with dirt and coughing. Who would have expected that the guy whose job was to fire people would be the one that hung back and made sure everybody on his floor got out?
“Annie! We’ve got to get the fuck out of here! The building’s gonna come down!” Amy didn’t bother to correct him. A low, rumbling groan as the girders began to buckle accented his warning. He took her arm over his shoulder and helped her stumble to the stairwell. She parted with him and started climbing instead of descending.
“What are you doing? We gotta get out of here!”
“You go ahead Mark, I gotta go get Trish!”
“What, your droid? Are you fuckin’ crazy?!”
“Go on Mark, go see your kids!”
Mark saw the futility of his argument. “Good luck” was the last thing he said to Amy.
Continue next page ……….
Amy painfully forced herself up nine flights of stairs to reach the fifteenth floor, where she knew Trish was fetching a datapad for her. Dozens of people ran past her in the opposite direction but none stopped to question her movement. As she climbed higher, she became more aware that the building was listing. The tortured groan of the structural supports was becoming louder. She prayed she would see a silver glint coming down the steps towards her.
Finally, an exhausted Amy reached floor 15. As soon as she got in the door, she saw Tricia. Trish was systematically snapping chunks off of the massive slab of concrete that had her pinned in an attempt to free herself that looked more efficient than it did frantic.
“Trish!”
Trish looked up, her green eyes gleaming in the darkness. “You shouldn’t be here Amy. You are in grave danger. Evacuate immediately.”
“I came here for you, Trish. I couldn’t imagine living without you.”
“Go, now, Amy. It is critical that you go, now.”
“If you don’t let me help you, I’m just going to wait here and die with you!”
Tricia had no trouble processing that ultimatum.
“Please bring that chair over here, Amy.”
Amy wheeled the office chair over to Trish’s side. She gasped in surprise as Trish’s legs disengaged at the hip sockets and she pulled herself into the chair.
Another groan of bending steel, this time the building tilted so much that Amy was almost thrown off her feet.
“We’re not gonna make it back down the steps.”
Tricia’s head panned around a full 360, making a quick analysis of a proper escape route.
“Sit in my lap, facing me, Amy. Hold me as tightly as you can.”
Amy did as she was told. Trish grabbed a hold of the wall and in a blurred series of rapid motions she pulled the chair up the incline towards the back of the building.
“Hold on Amy, and don’t look.”
A final skid of plastic wheels, then Trish wrapped her arms around Amy. Even through her closed eyes Amy could tell they were out in daylight. There was also no mistaking the whistling air and the terrifying sensation her inner ear was relaying to her. Trish had jumped out the window with her. Amy had wished for death for so long, but now that it loomed in front of her, all she wanted to do was fight it. Still, if these were her final seconds, she could think of nowhere she’d rather be than in the powerful arms of her gynoid.
Trish’s trajectory was perfect. She slammed with tremendous force into the roof of the parked hovercar belonging to District Manager Williams. Amy’s impact was cushioned by the car’s convertible roof, then its seats, and the body of Tricia. Still, blinding pain seized her and she lost consciousness.
Amy awoke in the familar setting of a hospital bed. The paramedics had grabbed her immediately, closing her numerous internal hemorrhages, sealing her shattered limbs, resetting her spinal column and draining the fluid that had filled her brain cavity. Without their attention she would have died within moments, but it was Trish who had saved her from dying instantly on impact. Her name was the first word to weakly escape Amy’s lips.
“I’m right here, Amy.”
Her eyes pulled into focus, and there was Trish. Amy painfully leaned her head forward to look down and saw that her gorgeous chrome legs looked as perfect as ever.
“You’re alright…”
“It took them fifteen minutes to put me back together. You were the difficult one. You’ve been out for four days. What you did was highly inadvisable.”
“I did it ‘cause I love you Trish.”
“I love you too Amy.”
It sounded familiar. Not the words, the phrase. Tricia always used the exact same tone, the same syllable length, the same inflection. Each of the six hundred and fifty-three times that she had told Amy that she loved her sounded exactly the same. Amy quickly shook the observation off, she was so happy to just be alive, but it sat in the back of her mind and quietly festered.
After her release from the hospital, Amy felt the color draining back from her life. She smiled less, felt colder inside, sadder. It dawned on her that she was slipping back into her old state of mind. Only now the dull pain was a scorching agony because she had finally truly experienced life.
One evening, lying in bed next to Tricia, Amy couldn’t help but go on a bit of internal exposition. Why am I doing this to myself? She looked over at Trish’s gentle smile.
“I love you Amy.”
It was a dagger through her heart. “Trish, deactivate.”
Tricia’s eyes faded back to the soft green glow of standby mode and she fell limp on the bed.
Its a program. A fucking program. She says “I love you” because she’s designed to tell her owner that as some kind of sick fucking ego boost. She’s an appliance! Everything is an emulation. She doesn’t truly feel, or think, or experience, she just responds to outside parameters.
Amy laughed now, coldly and mirthlessly. Of course! How had she deluded herself into thinking anyone could truly love her? A person as damaged, as troubled, as fundamentally unlovable as her? Trish was just an answering machine, playing the messages she so desperately wanted to hear.
The horror of this knowledge was unbearable. Amy felt as if a freezing numbness had seized her entire body. Even Trish was starting to feel cold, as her internal heaters were disabled in standby mode. She realized she had no other option. She silently rose from bed, stripped, filled the bathtub, and broke open one of her safety razors.
And there she was. Amy opened her eyes. Her vision was dim and she could barely breathe. There was so much blood in the bathwater now that her body was completely concealed. Not long now, she thought.
The bathroom door swung open.
“What?” Amy’s voice was barely a whisper.
“You are seriously wounded. You require medical attention.”
“Leave me alone.”
“I cannot comply.”
That’s one she’d never heard before. A pair of cold steel hands reached into the tub, took a strong grasp behind her waist and shoulders, and lifted her out. Finally, the welcome darkness enveloped her.
Fuck! Is this the same hospital room as always or do they all just look alike? There’s Trish again. Her only visitor. Wait…
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”
“Doctor Wrable!”
She was a woman in her mid sixties, past being pretty but still beautiful. She peered from behind slender glasses, a fashion statement more than a medical tool these days. Her brown hair with a streak of grey was tied into a ponytail.
“I was afraid this would happen.”
“You saw this coming? Then why’d you tell me to buy that fucking droid?! I was happier when I didn’t know what being happy really meant.”
“Tricia was waiting for you at the showroom that day. She’s not a manufactured unit.”
“I know, she’s a custom model. What do you mean waiting for me?”
Continue next page ………
“I was hoping you’d choose her. She’s one of my patients. I thought she could help you.”
“Wait… what? Patients? You’re a robot shrink too?”
“Amy, allow me to introduce you to Tricia Sanders.”
“….Tricia Sanders? She’s supposed to be dead!”
‘Terrible Trish’ Sanders was the most notorious female serial killer in recent memory. She had lured nineteen men to her home, dismembered and cannibalized them before she was finally captured and executed.
“It’s a highly experimental treatment. She signed up for it to save her own life. Most of her brain was replaced with neural net circuitry to allow her to be reprogrammed. She was given internal mechanical components to support this new system. Her appearance was changed to conceal her identity.”
“Reprogrammed?”
Trish now took turn to speak on her own. “Doctor Wrable saved my life in more ways than one. I don’t hear that terrible voice in my mind anymore telling me to do these things. I’ve been set free from my madness, my despair, my anger. A lot of my personality had to be deleted as well, but I have no regrets. When the Doctor told me I had the opportunity to save a life, how could I refuse?”
“So was this all part of my therapy, you don’t really”
“I really love you Amy.”
Amy sprang to a seated position, causing her to briefly pass out and fall back. She had barely survived some pretty severe blood loss, after all. Trish leaned over her, taking her in her warm steel arms again and kissing her.
“We can do it for you too. You’re not as broken as I was, less of your mind will need to be altered.”
“You want to make me a robot?”
Doctor Wrable chimed in. “We want to save you, Amy. Some fundamental flaw in your psychology has made you loathe yourself, and we have the means to physically correct it.”
Amy ran her hand along the smooth alloy of Trish’s face. “Will I…”
Trish understood immediately. “You can look however you want, Amy. You can keep your own flesh, if you want. You’ll only be different on the inside.”
Different on the inside. Amy had never heard such an appealing idea before in her life. She looked down at her body.
“Could you make my boobs bigger?”
Amy was spirited away in secret to an operating room under Dr. Wrable’s clinic. She had to remain conscious during the procedure to make sure no irrevocable damage was done to her personality, but she was paralyzed. The Doctor performed the operation herself, and Trish assisted her.
First, Amy’s head was shaved. The top of her cranium was sawed off and a series of circuits were implanted into her frontal lobe. Externally powered until her reactor was installed, they quickly linked up with her nervous system. Self-repairing and self-replicating, in a matter of weeks they would consume and replace all of her neurons. A signal was transmitted from her new implant and her heart and breathing ceased. Her consciousness was now electronically supported, her physically frail nature left behind her.
Now a laser scalpel made a wide incision in her abdomen. All of her internal organs were removed and incinerated. Trish held up the new reactor so Amy could see it. It was a metal cylinder about the size of a three-liter bottle, gleaming the same beautiful silver as Trish’s skin. If Amy could move her mouth she would’ve been beaming. It was installed under her ribcage and clipped neatly into the circuit board that had been attached to her spinal column.
Dr. Wrable had allowed Amy to choose from an extensive list of customizations. Actuated carbon alloy sheathed her skeleton, giving her the same kind of strength and endurance her lover possessed. Ocular implants sharpened her vision, allowing her to see in new spectrums she’d never imagined. All of this was concealed beneath her biological exterior, the only visible difference being her two extra cup sizes. In an emergency a previously invisible seam would open, causing her abdomen to swing open like a pair of doors, exposing her power plant for access and refueling.
Now came the best part. New instruction began transmitting through the wires connected to her brain. The nagging voice of doubt fell silent forever, replaced by the self-confidence that Amy had never possessed before. A quiet voice in her subconscious told her that she was worthwhile, beautiful, smart, that she was going to be alright. Her neural pathways were reconfigured, cutting her off from her senses of despair and dread. The last program was designed to her own specification, a tribute to her commitment and an apology for trying to take her own life. She would now be compelled to obey Trish’s commands as surely as Trish obeyed hers. They belonged to each other. It was the ultimate symbol of trust and submission, a bond stronger than any ring or ceremony.
Her reactor online, the wiring was now removed. Her skull cap was replaced and the now hyper-regenerative skin quickly sealed itself. Freedom of movement returned to her, and all she could think to do was leap to her feet and take Trish in her arms.
“I’d say the operation was a complete success!” Dr. Wrable smiled brightly behind her surgical mask.
A year had passed since Amy’s transformation. She and Trish were having dinner with Mark Decker and his wife Kelly. Their double dates had kind of become a tradition ever since Amy offered the first in gratitude for Mark’s efforts to save her during the attack. Mark and Kelly were delightful companions; besides, Trish and Amy could still taste even if they couldn’t digest. It was during dessert that Amy received a message on her cell phone. It was from Doc Wrable.
Amy had Trish pinned up against the wall of their luxurious hotel room, chrome legs wrapped around her waist. She cradled the fembot’s round alloy ass in her hands, easily supporting her heft. Trish’s expensive red dress was bunched around her waist, her panties were pulled aside. She was so stunning in her new outfit that Amy couldn’t have helped herself. Amy’s elegant black gown was hiked up in the front, exposing the gleaming silver cock she was thrusting deep into her soulmate. The grip of Trish’s love canal still drove Amy out of her mind, the tactile sensors in the dildo she wore feeding directly back into her nervous system. Amy pressed her lips against Trish’s slender throat and moaned into it as another climax seized her.
Trish sighed contentedly, basking in her afterglow and running her fingers through her lover’s long black hair. After a moment she felt the dildo start prodding her cervix again. Through sheer force of willpower she said “That’s enough Amy, we’re going to be late.”
Amy obediently slid out with a pop and dropped Trish back to her feet. She disengaged the SynthCock, lovingly licked Trish’s juices from it, and slipped it back into her purse. They took a moment to straighten out their clothes and headed for the ceremony. Amy stopped Trish at the door to wipe the lipstick from her neck.
They watched with great pride from the audience as Sarah Wrable accepted her Nobel Prize. The doctor looked younger, taller. Either she had figured out a way to age backwards or she was taking some of her own medicine. At the afterparty, they stood with her, champagne glasses in hand. Amy raised a toast.
“To Doctor Wrable, who made us machines so that we could be human.” Three glasses clinked together.
The End