Author's note: There is disassembly/reassembly/maintenance in this story, as well as explicit sex, and pseudo-incest. Feedback is always appreciated.
Teacher: Lesson 2
A Tale of the Android Age
by Grendizer
“Free labor is so valuable that once upon a time we nearly destroyed ourselves over whether freedom could be bought and sold. Now the only human slaves are the people we imprison, and only the worst of them have no hope of being free again. Androids have settled the issue of exploitation, because they are better than humans at almost everything, and our brand of 'freedom' is anathema to them. The dream that none need work in order to live proved so seductive that even you are only interviewing me on a lark, not because it feeds your family. Tell me, how does it feel to get paid for being an anachronism?” — Charles Rothman, founder and CEO, Rothman Group, in a 2045 interview with ARNet
Baron Gray leaned back into the soft chest of his teacher and lover, Bethany, as he considered what to do about the two newest members of his growing entourage. Scylla and her lover, Niobe, were jammed into the corner of the small room, pleasuring each other. Their bizarre position struck him. Niobe had the blond pinned to the wall by her legs, eating out her soaked pussy, while the other girl munched on the darker android upside down. He didn't know why they had eschewed the more traditional sixty-nine, but he knew such positions didn't tax modern androids. Anyway, he'd told them to fuck whenever he had no use for them, not what positions to use. He liked to watch, and the variety of positions only added to the pleasure. Baron realized that Bethany's hand, which had been brushing through his hair with idle motions, had become more intimate in its movements. He knew the change marked her reaction to his arousal. Remarkable creatures, androids.
He locked his hands over his stomach to reflect on his predicament. Technically, both of his new androids were hot, for more than the obvious physical reasons. In fact, despite his root user access to his three servants, he owned none of them. This only presented a problem with the new members of his entourage, though, since one of them held the exact likeness of her murdered true owner, and both could be recognized by interested parties. Not a good situation, when those interested parties might not have finished with killing. After all, that fool Oscar Rothman had acquired help, and his natural caution kept him from dismissing that help as the expected largess of wealth and power. He had to hide the androids, for the sake of his own neck. Plus, he liked seeing them happy. He'd never managed to make human women happy, so being able to spread happiness to his androids pleased him. He'd be damned if some ruthless manufacturing consortium would take that away, but juggling it all with his studies presented a problem. His teacher already seemed more interested in his cock than his brain, and classes would start very soon. He hadn't counted on cloak and dagger operations while memorizing chemistry formulas and holding off three sex-crazed robots. Sure, he could reprogram them, but all that would do was take out one part fun and leave two parts trouble. He could hear his old buddy Andrew now, “Fuck what ya heard. That's a high-quality problem!” Freaking delinquent, always getting him into trouble.
“I need to call Crash,” he said to himself.
“I know, Master,” said Bethany. “You would not leave them like this forever. They would bring trouble for you. You saved them to avoid trouble. And for the sex,” she said, tracing a finger around his ear. He could feel his ability to ignore her advances slipping away caress by caress. “Let us not forget the sex.”
“Right,” he said, suddenly standing. The haze of Bethany's seduction lifted a bit. Bethany stood with him, straightened her yellow sundress with a huff, and pouted at him. “Beth, setup a meeting with Crash. We don't have a lot of time.”
Scylla gave a muffled whimper from between Niobe's legs. The sound made him turn his head a bit. Bethany smiled at him, as if to say, Is that what you really want? Instead, she only said, “Yes, Master.”
He could have called Crash on his own, but Bethany's systems evaded trace better, and he didn't want to bring trouble on his only highend fabricator contact.
He heard a bang. Smoke filled the room, along with the sound of broken glass, falling pots and pans, and ragged coughing. An anthropomorphic calico cat rolled to its feet amidst the swirling smoke, its larger-than-required head bandaged theatrically. One leg had been replaced by a peg, the other stuffed into a red Doc Martin. The one blue eye free of bandages looked up at him, gracing him with an artificial twinkle.
“Well,” said Baron, “you've at least improved the sound effects.” He stuck out his hand. “How you been, Crash?”
After sniffing it, the cat shook his hand. His smile looked predatory, filled with cosmetically perfect fangs. “Fast, my friend. Just fast.” He looked around, spotted the two fucking androids, who hadn't as much as broken the stride of their oral picnic. “Seems like things are fast for you as well, no?”
“Maybe too fast,” said Baron, frowning.
Crash laughed. “Calling me to help you slow down shows a kind of hapless class, I suppose. After all, crashing is just stopping faster than everyone else.” Baron managed to laugh at the tired joke. He wondered, not for the first time, whether Crash's obsession with wrecking acted as a kind of counter-balancing of his artistic perfectionism, but his friend often left his attempts at pop psychology in the dust. “So what makes you desperate enough to become my next willing victim?” He eyed the two amorous androids with a speculative eye.
“I need a complete skinjob,” said Baron.
“On which one?”
“Both.”
Crash whistled low. “You a high roller now, B?”
“I figure that last pack of bits I passed you might be worth something, Crash.” Baron narrowed his eyes. “I had to trash some connections to get what you wanted.”
Crash winced. Nobody wanted to get a rep for costing people connections. “Okay, okay. Stop by the fab tomorrow, and ...”
“Today, Crash.”
“For the love of ...” said Crash, his mood darkening. Then he sighed. “You've grown into a real bastard, B. But I guess I can't blame you, can I? Okay, I'll get the shop ready. Just be there at two. Don't be late.” With a screech and pop, Crash disappeared in another cloud of smoke. Baron thanked fate that he had avoided an olfactory mod for his AR suite.
Two o'clock. That gave him two hours. Bethany smiled at him, and glanced down at his crotch. He crossed over to her, pushed her up against the wall. In seconds she had his pants undone and lying in a heap around his ankles. Baron flipped her skirt up and forced her legs apart with one of his knees. With a wild thrust, he shoved his cock into her. She gave him a lusty sneer, while he hammered her moist pussy. Behind him, he could hear Scylla climax, and it spurred him to increase his tempo. Bethany wrapped a leg around his hips, and pulled his head into the crook of her neck. “Oh, Master,” she whispered, “I want your come so bad. Is it good enough for you to come yet?” When his only answer was a moan, she activated the cilia deep inside her pussy. “What about now, Master? Please, I need your come inside me.” Baron still did not answer. He felt determined to last longer this time than during her last test, but then her Venusian Tongue began to massage his cock, and her pussy clinched rhythmically around his erection, signaling her own climax. Before Bethany could say anything else, he exploded inside her. Triggered by his ejaculation, her own climax hit, and her fingers clinched in his hair. She milked him, cooing into his ear.
Baron could practically hear her saying, I told you so. He sank to his knees, and curled up on the ground. Above him, Bethany smiled sweetly, straightened her sundress, and knelt beside him. In the corner of his eye, he saw a virtual chemistry set materialize. Lessons. He covered his eyes and groaned. The sex just hadn't lasted long enough to prevent study time. He was going to have to work on that.
….
Crash's fabshop, which he had affectionately christened “The Crashlab,” occupied a garage and basement in the town's industrial district. The graffiti-riddled beige exterior hadn't changed by a fleck of paint since Baron's last visit some months ago. What had changed were the looks he received from the locals, as three beautiful girls escorted him from the rental car to the Crashlab's “employees only” entrance.
“I'm sorry,” he said to Niobe and Scylla. “I didn't want to do this to you. But I don't think I have any choice. The Rothman goons are still looking for both of you.”
Niobe brushed his cheek with the back of her hand, smiling at him. “You are keeping your promise to Scylla, Master. For this, and other reasons, we both ...” She stopped, searching for the right word. She and Scylla's programming forbade them to say “I love you” until Baron had said those words to them first. He had not, though he knew both ached to tell him how they felt. “We both cherish you. If what we become pleases you, then so be it. Androids needn't feel pain.”
“Thank you, Niobe,” he said.
The door opened, and a tall worker android stood before them, blocking their way. This model made no pretense at being human. It's twenty metal fingers ringed suction palms that lay perpendicular to its wrists, and its visored head hosted multiple independently swiveling eyes. It's slim appearance belied the strength coiled inside its carbon laminate frame.
“Buddy!” said Crash's voice, emanating from the worker android. “Right on time. This way.” The android turned to lead them into the building. Baron rolled his eyes. He'd never actually seen Crash in person. Come to that, he couldn't really be sure he was a human, although Bethany seemed confident of Crash's biological origin.
Inside, the lab sprawled with androids in various states of disassembly or prep. Racks of pseudo-muscle and carbon laminate skeletal components lined the walls. Worker androids like the one leading them to Crash's office surrounded tables occupied by androids under maintenance. As he passed, he could see the flaccid quadriceps of an otherwise nubile and fully skinned female android fused to a shiny black kneecap by a polymer torch. The android's other hand used a tool to test the joint, and the quadriceps came to life, flexing and pulling the leg straight. He could see the skinless calve and foot come into view, smooth black laminate pseudo-bone and translucent muscle formed into a work of art. He felt an impulse to touch that leg, to feel the smooth pseudo-muscle work beneath his fingers, and he blushed. Bethany's hand found his, but he didn't want to look at her face. He knew what expression he would find there.
The office surprised him. In contrast to the stoic pragmatism of the shop floor, it appeared well-appointed, even luxurious. A red couch took up a quarter of the space, and Crash's desk another quarter, it's black marble surface reflecting the ceiling lights. The worker android hosting Crash's voice settled itself behind the desk.
“Here's what I can do for you, since time seems to be of the essence here ...”
“No hack jobs, dammit,” said Baron.
“Who the fuck do you think I am?!” The worker android shot to its feet. “If I thought I couldn't do it right, I wouldn't do it at all.”
“Alright, alright,” said Baron, holding up his hands. “I'm sorry.”
The worker android settled back down. “Yeah. Well, just because I'm going to do it right, doesn't mean you'll like it. They'll have to go nude for a while.”
“Isn't that dangerous?”
“Not really. Pseudo-skin is interface, not security. It's only there for us fleshpops. Well, mostly. Just don't do anything extreme. Normal use shouldn't be a problem. Even naked pseudo-muscle is pretty tough. I'll hook you up with some stylish shades, though. They won't have eyelids for a while, and corneas are more delicate than the rest of them. But here's the thing, B, you can get any design you want, but only one. They'll have to be twins.”
Baron frowned.
“Oh, poor baby,” drawled Crash. “Can I get you a lolly? Don't be stupid. This is gold. I mean, sure, it's cheaper for me, but … why should I even have to explain this to a guy? For the love of crap, B. Nevermind that they're practically sisters to look at them anyway. Like this is some kind of stretch. What?”
Baron was getting horny thinking about the prospects, and Bethany's hand had crept to his crotch. Apparently she judged that a room full of androids constituted sufficient privacy to allow for seduction. He gently removed her hand, but the reason for his frown remained: exposure. The twins would draw attention, since he'd be damned if he'd call in a favor this huge and not make them as hot as possible. He'd also have to devise a plan for distinguishing between them without his AR suite, since he planned to implement security procedures similar to Bethany's.
“It's okay, Crash. I'll think of something,” he said.
“Will you now? Well, that's a fucking relief, you lucky douche bag.”
Baron laughed. He glanced over to the “sisters,” who were holding hands. They were smiling, not the slightest bit of discomfort evident on their faces at the prospect of being pealed like oranges and made to go skinless for only god knew how long. Damned if they didn't look happy, he thought.
Teacher: Lesson 2
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Grendizer
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Teacher: Lesson 2
If freedom is outlawed, only outlaws will be free.
My Stories: Teacher: Lesson 1, Teacher: Lesson 2, Quick Corruptions, A New Purpose
My Stories: Teacher: Lesson 1, Teacher: Lesson 2, Quick Corruptions, A New Purpose
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Grendizer
- Posts: 175
- Joined: Thu Feb 25, 2010 9:24 pm
- Technosexuality: Built
- Identification: Human
- Gender: Male
- Location: The Darkside of the Moon
- x 2
- Contact:
Wow. This is going places I hadn't planned. But then nothing I've written on this site has been planned...
Teacher: Lesson.2.b
“You said I could pick any design?”
In answer, Crash just laughed. A stack of glowing skinjob portfolios materialized at his right. Baron reached out and took the stack, shuffling through them. He immediately filtered half the stack, as they were male skins. Even if he swung that way, his androids were proportioned as females, with shoulders narrower than their hips. Other picks showed specialty jobs, like permanent clowns, carnival freaks, and strange mutating body art. He filtered out those as well. What remained stunned him. Baron realized that Crash had given him a collection of over fifty perfect tens to choose from. All of the pictures showed the models nude in various positions, and another set clothed in the same positions: night gowns, t-shirt and jeans, club wear, bikinis, and even business dress. Each set included animations of them walking, dancing, and playing sports as well. Almost all of them looked like they belonged on the set of some action holo or in the archives of a porn site. He even thought he recognized some faces from AR commercials. After about thirty minutes, he finally settled on a model that kept sending his hormones into overdrive every time he glanced at her. He didn't want the girls to see his choice, though he probably hadn't fooled Bethany. Why not surprise them? After all, he knew they'd be happy no matter what he chose. He informed Crash by giving him the model's reference number.
“Nice,” said Crash. “You've got a good eye. I can respect that.”
“As if they weren't all your handiwork? We should get things rolling,” said Baron, trying not to blush.
“Sure, sure. Follow me.” The worker android stood up again and left the office. He and the girls trailed after it.
“Crash,” said Baron.
“Yeah?”
“Could you, um, keep the old skins?”
“Getting sentimental on me?”
“Well, they have identities ...”
The worker android focused two of its eyes on the girls. “They don't seem to mind much.”
“I mind, Crash.”
“It don't work that way, B.” Baron faked a morose expression. He actually wanted the skins tossed, but he wanted to know what Crash normally did with them. “But what I can do is scan them, and if you change your mind about this little corner of paradise you've got going, you can always reconstruct the originals.”
“Thanks,” he said, brightening. “I knew it was worth it to burn those connections.”
“Don't mention it,” said Crash. Baron could practically hear the wince in his voice. “I mean for real. Don't say that shit again.” Baron grinned. “Here we are, ladies.” He stopped at one of the shops many fab tables. Baron could see robotic arms folded beneath the structure, presumably ready to aide the operator in its duties. “Blondy first. Strip and stand by the table so I can get a scan.”
Scylla blushed, despite her almost eager attitude, but did as she'd been told. Moments later, an armature descended from the ceiling. A multi-element laser scanner began a rapid sweep of her body, casting intersecting red lines along her contours. When the scanner finished, Crash said, “up onto the table, darlin'.” After Scylla laid down, one of the worker android's fingers uncurled and made a circle around her navel. A low hissing sound accompanied the motion, and a curl of smoke wafted into the air. His other fingers closed around the area, and removed a plug of pseudo-skin. This left a hole in her abdomen, exposing translucent blue pseudo-muscle and a circular contact, her transdermal link. An umbilical connection snaked down from the ceiling, and Crash attached it to the link.
“Scylla>>Maintenance Mode,” appeared in green alphanumerics in the corner of Baron's vision. His heart thumped a little harder. He wasn't sure he wanted to see Scylla's skin removed, but something compelled him to keep watching. The blond turned her head to face him and gave him a peaceful smile.
Niobe stepped up beside him, brushed a hand through his hair. “She doesn't suffer, Master. She wants to do this for you. We both want this.”
“I know,” he said. “I just …”
“Like it,” whispered Bethany into his ear.
Baron supposed his teacher was right. Why hadn't he acknowledged this particular kink earlier? He guessed somewhere deep inside he wanted to know what Bethany felt like under her skin. The idea that someone had made her, that her exquisite body moved by technology alone, seemed like magic, and something inside him wanted to connect with that part of her, to access her power. That's why he had hacked her in the first place. Now, seeing Crash slice into Scylla, he wanted to see more. He swallowed, thinking about what she and Niobe's supple bodies would feel like against his skin when he got back to the dorm.
Crash slid his finger along Scylla's stomach, making a slice from her navel to the tip of her sternum. In a few seconds, he had removed another larger pink slab of pseudo-skin, exposing her abdominals. Through the blurred and shiny surface of pseudo-muscle, he could see the network of cables that flowed from the power unit in her chest, bundled in cords that reminded him of arteries. Flexible circuits spread from her navel along her spine.
“Never seen it, have you?” said Crash, an eye focusing on him.
“On the AR,” said Baron. He didn't lift his gaze from Scylla's stomach.
“It's different in person.”
“It's beautiful,” said Baron. “She's beautiful.”
Scylla blushed. “Oh, Master,” she whispered.
Baron stepped up to her. He ran his fingers over her exposed muscles. They were soft, becoming a bit harder when he pressed. Scylla moaned at his touch, and when her abdomen flexed he could see webs of iridescent fibers dash under his hand.
“Psuedo-muscle is photo-reactive,” said Crash, slicing more skin away from her flanks. “The webs inside are the fiber optic filaments delivering a specific wavelength of light to different areas to achieve contraction. When I first started out, I thought all I needed to know was the sculpting, but it takes more.” Baron had expected the artist to tell him to get out of his way, but the worker android just moved to the other side of the table and continued its faux butchery.
“What holds the skin on?” he asked.
“The mantle.” The worker android pointed a finger at the thin lining that covered the muscle. Baron leaned over, put his face close to it. He could see tiny opalescent combs arranged in rows, like grooves in an ancient vinyl record. “It's the true protective layer. Maintenance Mode loosens its grip on the inside of the pseudo-skin. The sections of skin are held together in the same way. The smoke you see is the result of friction as the grippers come loose. I'm not actually cutting your little sexpot here, you see?” Baron nodded, as the metal finger glided over a patch of skin. It came apart almost as if it had been unzipped. “It just comes apart at predetermined locations, most of which are standardized.”
“So why can't you store it?”
“This stuff isn't like clothing. It's closer to modeler's clay, in that it has no predefined shape. Artists like me program the mantle, and it tells the skin what to look like. If the skin doesn't get feedback from the mantle its shape will degrade over time. It's easier to just take a scan of the original and reconstitute it later.” Crash paused. “You probably knew some of that. You always let me talk my ass off like I'm speaking to some damned greenhorn. I know you ain't a hardware guy, but still. Which makes me wonder: why the full-on skinjob? You could just reprogram her mantle. Guy like you must have access to untold riches of skin designs.”
“Fresh start,” he said. He didn't want to tell Crash that Rothman salvage gangs probably had a skin signature for her and Niobe, that any bit of pseudo-skin that fell off of them probably had an ID number along for the ride.
“Whatever,” said Crash, not fooled, but he didn't stop working. “Just another reason not to keep the stuff around.” He made his way to the breasts. In tittle time he had exposed the soft white bulbs that defined the shape of Scylla's chest. He could see a webbing of circuits diverge beneath each nipple. “Most clients hate that part, but you got a kink for this shit. It's obvious. Well, it's not like you're alone. Just don't whip it out on the shop floor.” Scylla's ribs looked like sculpted obsidian, and as her chest expanded with each artificial breath, he could see circuits and cabling peak out from between them. “Here goes the face,” said Crash. One long stroke of a finger revealed features reminiscent of a moving anatomy holo. Crash placed a sealed and mirrored visor over her eyes, protecting them from abuse.
It took only minutes to free Scylla's coiffure, arms, and legs, leaving her devoid of skin. She rose from the table at Crash's bidding, and stood facing Baron. She seemed more delicate and vulnerable to him now. Her body had become a network of subdued and shifting lights, as her muscles flexed to keep her vertical. She sported a smile that literally lit up her face.
“How do I look, Master?” she said. He could see a constellation of faint lights at her cheeks. He supposed that was her blush response, a loss he regretted. In answer, he kissed her. She tasted the same, but her her lips felt smoother, almost like wet ice, but just as soft and warm as before.
Niobe's process mirrored Scylla's almost exactly. He suspected they were actually the same model with different skins. Not an hour had passed, and Crash had finished.
At the door to the fabshop, Crash said, “Have fun, kiddies. Be back in three days. It'll take that long to grow the new skin. You didn't give me enough time, or you'd have it all done today.”
“Thanks, Crash,” said Baron. He tried not to let on how relieved he was to be rid of the hot skin. He could handle bare pseudo-flesh for a few days. In fact, he suspected he would enjoy handing it.
Teacher: Lesson.2.b
“You said I could pick any design?”
In answer, Crash just laughed. A stack of glowing skinjob portfolios materialized at his right. Baron reached out and took the stack, shuffling through them. He immediately filtered half the stack, as they were male skins. Even if he swung that way, his androids were proportioned as females, with shoulders narrower than their hips. Other picks showed specialty jobs, like permanent clowns, carnival freaks, and strange mutating body art. He filtered out those as well. What remained stunned him. Baron realized that Crash had given him a collection of over fifty perfect tens to choose from. All of the pictures showed the models nude in various positions, and another set clothed in the same positions: night gowns, t-shirt and jeans, club wear, bikinis, and even business dress. Each set included animations of them walking, dancing, and playing sports as well. Almost all of them looked like they belonged on the set of some action holo or in the archives of a porn site. He even thought he recognized some faces from AR commercials. After about thirty minutes, he finally settled on a model that kept sending his hormones into overdrive every time he glanced at her. He didn't want the girls to see his choice, though he probably hadn't fooled Bethany. Why not surprise them? After all, he knew they'd be happy no matter what he chose. He informed Crash by giving him the model's reference number.
“Nice,” said Crash. “You've got a good eye. I can respect that.”
“As if they weren't all your handiwork? We should get things rolling,” said Baron, trying not to blush.
“Sure, sure. Follow me.” The worker android stood up again and left the office. He and the girls trailed after it.
“Crash,” said Baron.
“Yeah?”
“Could you, um, keep the old skins?”
“Getting sentimental on me?”
“Well, they have identities ...”
The worker android focused two of its eyes on the girls. “They don't seem to mind much.”
“I mind, Crash.”
“It don't work that way, B.” Baron faked a morose expression. He actually wanted the skins tossed, but he wanted to know what Crash normally did with them. “But what I can do is scan them, and if you change your mind about this little corner of paradise you've got going, you can always reconstruct the originals.”
“Thanks,” he said, brightening. “I knew it was worth it to burn those connections.”
“Don't mention it,” said Crash. Baron could practically hear the wince in his voice. “I mean for real. Don't say that shit again.” Baron grinned. “Here we are, ladies.” He stopped at one of the shops many fab tables. Baron could see robotic arms folded beneath the structure, presumably ready to aide the operator in its duties. “Blondy first. Strip and stand by the table so I can get a scan.”
Scylla blushed, despite her almost eager attitude, but did as she'd been told. Moments later, an armature descended from the ceiling. A multi-element laser scanner began a rapid sweep of her body, casting intersecting red lines along her contours. When the scanner finished, Crash said, “up onto the table, darlin'.” After Scylla laid down, one of the worker android's fingers uncurled and made a circle around her navel. A low hissing sound accompanied the motion, and a curl of smoke wafted into the air. His other fingers closed around the area, and removed a plug of pseudo-skin. This left a hole in her abdomen, exposing translucent blue pseudo-muscle and a circular contact, her transdermal link. An umbilical connection snaked down from the ceiling, and Crash attached it to the link.
“Scylla>>Maintenance Mode,” appeared in green alphanumerics in the corner of Baron's vision. His heart thumped a little harder. He wasn't sure he wanted to see Scylla's skin removed, but something compelled him to keep watching. The blond turned her head to face him and gave him a peaceful smile.
Niobe stepped up beside him, brushed a hand through his hair. “She doesn't suffer, Master. She wants to do this for you. We both want this.”
“I know,” he said. “I just …”
“Like it,” whispered Bethany into his ear.
Baron supposed his teacher was right. Why hadn't he acknowledged this particular kink earlier? He guessed somewhere deep inside he wanted to know what Bethany felt like under her skin. The idea that someone had made her, that her exquisite body moved by technology alone, seemed like magic, and something inside him wanted to connect with that part of her, to access her power. That's why he had hacked her in the first place. Now, seeing Crash slice into Scylla, he wanted to see more. He swallowed, thinking about what she and Niobe's supple bodies would feel like against his skin when he got back to the dorm.
Crash slid his finger along Scylla's stomach, making a slice from her navel to the tip of her sternum. In a few seconds, he had removed another larger pink slab of pseudo-skin, exposing her abdominals. Through the blurred and shiny surface of pseudo-muscle, he could see the network of cables that flowed from the power unit in her chest, bundled in cords that reminded him of arteries. Flexible circuits spread from her navel along her spine.
“Never seen it, have you?” said Crash, an eye focusing on him.
“On the AR,” said Baron. He didn't lift his gaze from Scylla's stomach.
“It's different in person.”
“It's beautiful,” said Baron. “She's beautiful.”
Scylla blushed. “Oh, Master,” she whispered.
Baron stepped up to her. He ran his fingers over her exposed muscles. They were soft, becoming a bit harder when he pressed. Scylla moaned at his touch, and when her abdomen flexed he could see webs of iridescent fibers dash under his hand.
“Psuedo-muscle is photo-reactive,” said Crash, slicing more skin away from her flanks. “The webs inside are the fiber optic filaments delivering a specific wavelength of light to different areas to achieve contraction. When I first started out, I thought all I needed to know was the sculpting, but it takes more.” Baron had expected the artist to tell him to get out of his way, but the worker android just moved to the other side of the table and continued its faux butchery.
“What holds the skin on?” he asked.
“The mantle.” The worker android pointed a finger at the thin lining that covered the muscle. Baron leaned over, put his face close to it. He could see tiny opalescent combs arranged in rows, like grooves in an ancient vinyl record. “It's the true protective layer. Maintenance Mode loosens its grip on the inside of the pseudo-skin. The sections of skin are held together in the same way. The smoke you see is the result of friction as the grippers come loose. I'm not actually cutting your little sexpot here, you see?” Baron nodded, as the metal finger glided over a patch of skin. It came apart almost as if it had been unzipped. “It just comes apart at predetermined locations, most of which are standardized.”
“So why can't you store it?”
“This stuff isn't like clothing. It's closer to modeler's clay, in that it has no predefined shape. Artists like me program the mantle, and it tells the skin what to look like. If the skin doesn't get feedback from the mantle its shape will degrade over time. It's easier to just take a scan of the original and reconstitute it later.” Crash paused. “You probably knew some of that. You always let me talk my ass off like I'm speaking to some damned greenhorn. I know you ain't a hardware guy, but still. Which makes me wonder: why the full-on skinjob? You could just reprogram her mantle. Guy like you must have access to untold riches of skin designs.”
“Fresh start,” he said. He didn't want to tell Crash that Rothman salvage gangs probably had a skin signature for her and Niobe, that any bit of pseudo-skin that fell off of them probably had an ID number along for the ride.
“Whatever,” said Crash, not fooled, but he didn't stop working. “Just another reason not to keep the stuff around.” He made his way to the breasts. In tittle time he had exposed the soft white bulbs that defined the shape of Scylla's chest. He could see a webbing of circuits diverge beneath each nipple. “Most clients hate that part, but you got a kink for this shit. It's obvious. Well, it's not like you're alone. Just don't whip it out on the shop floor.” Scylla's ribs looked like sculpted obsidian, and as her chest expanded with each artificial breath, he could see circuits and cabling peak out from between them. “Here goes the face,” said Crash. One long stroke of a finger revealed features reminiscent of a moving anatomy holo. Crash placed a sealed and mirrored visor over her eyes, protecting them from abuse.
It took only minutes to free Scylla's coiffure, arms, and legs, leaving her devoid of skin. She rose from the table at Crash's bidding, and stood facing Baron. She seemed more delicate and vulnerable to him now. Her body had become a network of subdued and shifting lights, as her muscles flexed to keep her vertical. She sported a smile that literally lit up her face.
“How do I look, Master?” she said. He could see a constellation of faint lights at her cheeks. He supposed that was her blush response, a loss he regretted. In answer, he kissed her. She tasted the same, but her her lips felt smoother, almost like wet ice, but just as soft and warm as before.
Niobe's process mirrored Scylla's almost exactly. He suspected they were actually the same model with different skins. Not an hour had passed, and Crash had finished.
At the door to the fabshop, Crash said, “Have fun, kiddies. Be back in three days. It'll take that long to grow the new skin. You didn't give me enough time, or you'd have it all done today.”
“Thanks, Crash,” said Baron. He tried not to let on how relieved he was to be rid of the hot skin. He could handle bare pseudo-flesh for a few days. In fact, he suspected he would enjoy handing it.
If freedom is outlawed, only outlaws will be free.
My Stories: Teacher: Lesson 1, Teacher: Lesson 2, Quick Corruptions, A New Purpose
My Stories: Teacher: Lesson 1, Teacher: Lesson 2, Quick Corruptions, A New Purpose
-
Grendizer
- Posts: 175
- Joined: Thu Feb 25, 2010 9:24 pm
- Technosexuality: Built
- Identification: Human
- Gender: Male
- Location: The Darkside of the Moon
- x 2
- Contact:
Well, this is taking a while because of work and other projects. If you've followed this long, just know that I do plan on finishing this story, but updates will be slower than my first story. I also might add more Quick Corruptions, because they only take one sitting and very little time, nor do I have to think about the implications for future writing. Dreaming things up takes longer for me than writing things down.
Teacher: Lesson.2.c
Crash allowed his worker drone to regain its autonomy, allowed his skinshop to melt away down the deepness of the AlterReal until his own body felt natural again. He reclined in his papasan, his eyes squeezed shut, not wishing to register the outside world more than required. Pudgy fingers folded over his gut, a part of his body intentionally neglected by the effortless body sculpting of the day. He didn't want to mold himself as if he were no more than one of his creations. But he had to admit that he recreated himself, time and again, despite his vague artistic principles. Baron had given him a potent tool for that project.
It was a pity, really. Crash liked Baron. He didn't want him to get disappeared, but he felt sure Baron had somehow run afoul of the Rothman Group. Why else re-skin two flawless androids? The old skins hadn't fatigued from over-frequent manipulation, but both contained Rothman tracers. Crash had decontaminated the shop after they left, not wanting to attract undue scrutiny, and then got to work synthesizing the new skins. You didn't break connections with people who could give you black magic heaven on a sliver of silicon. Even so, he worried about Rothman salvage gangs, and Baron's androids, and Baron himself, of course. After seeing the skins, he reached the conclusion that Baron and the recent news concerning that Oscar Rothman kid somehow shared a common thread. He didn't know how Baron fit into the tapestry, but he knew he would have to keep an eye on his favorite supplier.
But clandestine activities could wait. Why bother protecting your suppliers if you couldn't enjoy the supply?
“Eva?” he said into the dark.
“Yes, my love?” came the answer. The warm hand of one of his synthetic lovers brushed his cheek, and a thrill shot down Crash's body.
“Inject me with sequence B-35, Rev. 2.”
Eva took his hand, pressed his fingers to her plush lips, and said, “How, my love?”
“The shoulder, this time. The neck thing isn't all it's cracked up to be, whatever the AR shows say.”
“Shall I stay with you after? Shall I please you with my body?”
“But of course. You know orgasm increases the potency of the haze.”
She laughed then, and his fingers brushed a fang, almost pricking him. He didn't worry. Eva never forgot to retract her arsenal before sucking him off. He could feel her luscious body fold into him, straddle his lap. She smelled of ancient Dutch roses and human female, a mix he had derived from DNA samples in European museums and the budding enthusiasm of young models. Her lips brushed his chin, and she said, “I will not let you off easy, my love. I am going to milk you until your flesh becomes so tender for me, until you cannot control the quivering of your muscles.”
“Sweet talk will get you everywhere,” he said, smiling. He still hadn't opened his eyes, still refused to let the light of reality invade his coming vision, but Eva felt all too real. “Now, bite me, you perfect bitch.”
He felt her hand cup his cheek, and her lips trace a wet kiss down his neck, teasing the site of her last injection. Eva made her way to his shoulder, and Crash could feel the soft wetness of her mouth touch him there. Suddenly, a sharp pain bloomed in his shoulder, and he could feel his sex toy's venom pulse into him. After a few moments, Eva's fangs retracted, and he could feel her lips suck at his wound, her saliva laced with prolactin inhibitors and painkillers. He gasped. The result of Baron's neurotransmitter editor, a cocktail of potent user-tailored pharmacology, took hold of his mind. Crash felt his body detach from his consciousness, as if his limbs had become a kind of plaything for his pleasure center, a tool for delight rather than survival. His flesh could no longer be called his own. Eva took advantage of his state, and ecstasy took over his body.
He could feel the heat of her sex engulf him, wrap him in its wet embrace, suck at him with a manic ferocity. Minutes later, an orgasm shook his body, causing him to convulse, as the feeling washed over his being. It didn't stop. He knew it wouldn't stop until the neurotransmitters had run their course. He could feel her mouth all over him, causing seismic responses wherever she kissed him. He became dimly aware that his sex toy had become adventurous, invading him in ways that made him shiver. Another orgasm pulsed through him, and he found himself pushed by carnal exigency, desperate to continue his ride, afraid it would never stop. The impact of Eva's pelvis, as she impaled herself on him in a frantic rhythm, sent shock waves through him. A wet tongue snaked into his ear, the purr of his lover exciting him, and he cried out, only to have his lips caressed by her hand. The sensation throttled his mind, overwhelming him, and his mental landscape lost cohesion in the depths of his haze.
Hours later, he woke in Eva's arms. She didn't seem like a vampire to him. That had been his original idea for her, but her true nature proved far more giving. She didn't suck blood but staunched its flow. She didn't give hellish immortality, but blissful immortal moments. Her red hair draped over his chest, warming him against the chill of the stoic AR room. She had noticed the change in his breathing, he knew; she looked up at him, her porcelain features making him whimper inside. Gave him a fanged smile through a smear of his blood on her mouth.
He knew, if he weren't very careful, he could lose her. He could lose everything. Crash sought for a way to defend himself against Rothmans without actually getting more involved than he'd become.
He thought Baron needed more than new pseudo-skin. He needed special hardware. A couple of pleasure droids and a sexy schoolteacher couldn't see the kid to the other side of hell with fancy software alone. Not against the Rothmans. Not if they got serious. Crash sighed. He didn't like to call the Talos Twins for things like this. Those two thought paranoia was the name of a holy order.
Teacher: Lesson.2.c
Crash allowed his worker drone to regain its autonomy, allowed his skinshop to melt away down the deepness of the AlterReal until his own body felt natural again. He reclined in his papasan, his eyes squeezed shut, not wishing to register the outside world more than required. Pudgy fingers folded over his gut, a part of his body intentionally neglected by the effortless body sculpting of the day. He didn't want to mold himself as if he were no more than one of his creations. But he had to admit that he recreated himself, time and again, despite his vague artistic principles. Baron had given him a potent tool for that project.
It was a pity, really. Crash liked Baron. He didn't want him to get disappeared, but he felt sure Baron had somehow run afoul of the Rothman Group. Why else re-skin two flawless androids? The old skins hadn't fatigued from over-frequent manipulation, but both contained Rothman tracers. Crash had decontaminated the shop after they left, not wanting to attract undue scrutiny, and then got to work synthesizing the new skins. You didn't break connections with people who could give you black magic heaven on a sliver of silicon. Even so, he worried about Rothman salvage gangs, and Baron's androids, and Baron himself, of course. After seeing the skins, he reached the conclusion that Baron and the recent news concerning that Oscar Rothman kid somehow shared a common thread. He didn't know how Baron fit into the tapestry, but he knew he would have to keep an eye on his favorite supplier.
But clandestine activities could wait. Why bother protecting your suppliers if you couldn't enjoy the supply?
“Eva?” he said into the dark.
“Yes, my love?” came the answer. The warm hand of one of his synthetic lovers brushed his cheek, and a thrill shot down Crash's body.
“Inject me with sequence B-35, Rev. 2.”
Eva took his hand, pressed his fingers to her plush lips, and said, “How, my love?”
“The shoulder, this time. The neck thing isn't all it's cracked up to be, whatever the AR shows say.”
“Shall I stay with you after? Shall I please you with my body?”
“But of course. You know orgasm increases the potency of the haze.”
She laughed then, and his fingers brushed a fang, almost pricking him. He didn't worry. Eva never forgot to retract her arsenal before sucking him off. He could feel her luscious body fold into him, straddle his lap. She smelled of ancient Dutch roses and human female, a mix he had derived from DNA samples in European museums and the budding enthusiasm of young models. Her lips brushed his chin, and she said, “I will not let you off easy, my love. I am going to milk you until your flesh becomes so tender for me, until you cannot control the quivering of your muscles.”
“Sweet talk will get you everywhere,” he said, smiling. He still hadn't opened his eyes, still refused to let the light of reality invade his coming vision, but Eva felt all too real. “Now, bite me, you perfect bitch.”
He felt her hand cup his cheek, and her lips trace a wet kiss down his neck, teasing the site of her last injection. Eva made her way to his shoulder, and Crash could feel the soft wetness of her mouth touch him there. Suddenly, a sharp pain bloomed in his shoulder, and he could feel his sex toy's venom pulse into him. After a few moments, Eva's fangs retracted, and he could feel her lips suck at his wound, her saliva laced with prolactin inhibitors and painkillers. He gasped. The result of Baron's neurotransmitter editor, a cocktail of potent user-tailored pharmacology, took hold of his mind. Crash felt his body detach from his consciousness, as if his limbs had become a kind of plaything for his pleasure center, a tool for delight rather than survival. His flesh could no longer be called his own. Eva took advantage of his state, and ecstasy took over his body.
He could feel the heat of her sex engulf him, wrap him in its wet embrace, suck at him with a manic ferocity. Minutes later, an orgasm shook his body, causing him to convulse, as the feeling washed over his being. It didn't stop. He knew it wouldn't stop until the neurotransmitters had run their course. He could feel her mouth all over him, causing seismic responses wherever she kissed him. He became dimly aware that his sex toy had become adventurous, invading him in ways that made him shiver. Another orgasm pulsed through him, and he found himself pushed by carnal exigency, desperate to continue his ride, afraid it would never stop. The impact of Eva's pelvis, as she impaled herself on him in a frantic rhythm, sent shock waves through him. A wet tongue snaked into his ear, the purr of his lover exciting him, and he cried out, only to have his lips caressed by her hand. The sensation throttled his mind, overwhelming him, and his mental landscape lost cohesion in the depths of his haze.
Hours later, he woke in Eva's arms. She didn't seem like a vampire to him. That had been his original idea for her, but her true nature proved far more giving. She didn't suck blood but staunched its flow. She didn't give hellish immortality, but blissful immortal moments. Her red hair draped over his chest, warming him against the chill of the stoic AR room. She had noticed the change in his breathing, he knew; she looked up at him, her porcelain features making him whimper inside. Gave him a fanged smile through a smear of his blood on her mouth.
He knew, if he weren't very careful, he could lose her. He could lose everything. Crash sought for a way to defend himself against Rothmans without actually getting more involved than he'd become.
He thought Baron needed more than new pseudo-skin. He needed special hardware. A couple of pleasure droids and a sexy schoolteacher couldn't see the kid to the other side of hell with fancy software alone. Not against the Rothmans. Not if they got serious. Crash sighed. He didn't like to call the Talos Twins for things like this. Those two thought paranoia was the name of a holy order.
If freedom is outlawed, only outlaws will be free.
My Stories: Teacher: Lesson 1, Teacher: Lesson 2, Quick Corruptions, A New Purpose
My Stories: Teacher: Lesson 1, Teacher: Lesson 2, Quick Corruptions, A New Purpose
-
Grendizer
- Posts: 175
- Joined: Thu Feb 25, 2010 9:24 pm
- Technosexuality: Built
- Identification: Human
- Gender: Male
- Location: The Darkside of the Moon
- x 2
- Contact:
Sorry for the delay. I hope the pace will pick up, but there won't be more before at least Friday or Saturday. Let me know what you think.
Teacher: Lesson.2.d
Eber Talos observed the transaction with Crash, a critical frown on his lips. He didn't like transferring military -grade countermeasures in such a hasty fashion, but he understood the circumstances, and it was Crash, after all. People used to call the stuff black ICE, back in his grandpa's day, but calling it that now would be like calling a plane a “flying machine.” Eber liked to think he had more style. Either way, the stuff could kill, if allowed. He heard the target user already possessed the requisite code, which spoke volumes by itself, but transacting the hardware alone could still lead to hard time. Therefore, he participated through an unlicensed android. Amateurs often thought that everything had turned into ones and zeros, that the hardware didn't matter anymore, but he had proof to the contrary implanted in the wrist of his simulacrum.
The park he and Crash's android met at looked almost deserted, giving free reign to the squirrel and deer that darted between the thick tree trunks and boulders. The new neural implants had quickly taken over, and people often preferred vacationing in their heads to the real deal. After all, the only difference between fresh air and apartment air was in your head, so they said. Eber couldn't judge them: neither of them were actually in the park either, but in order to avoid undue attention, the surrogates engaged in an inane conversation, their artificial voices mingling with the sounds of nature. A psychoacoustic signature laced their conversation, an encrypted link that exchanged the true meaning of their banter.
“I don't want to know what kind of trouble your boy is in,” said Eber, “but if he uses this and it gets on the AlterNET, he'll have more to worry about than Rothman goons.”
“I know, Eber,” said Crash. His android laughed some lame joke, and replied with something equally vacuous. “But this isn't the time to play it safe, man. The Rothmans won't either, and my connection needs your goods to keep them off his tail for a bit. This one is the cautious type. I don't think he'll end up on the evening news, unless he turns up dead.”
“I hope you're right,” said Eber. His android gave Crash's surrogate a high five, passing the package into the other android's wrist. The two drones carried on their conversation, something about a local club. “For this guy's sake. The Rothman's are pussycats compared to military intelligence, and don't believe that 'Posse Comitatus' bullshit. Either way, they won't trace it back to me, or my sister. You I ain't so sure about. Watch your back.”
“Always,” said Crash. His surrogate turned and left, waving at Eber's android in a cheery fashion.
Eber watched him until Crash's machine disappeared around a bend in a trail, then he turned his android and walked it behind a copse of trees. He spoke a command, and the machine began to dissolve. Eber didn't care that the constituent carbon would end up enriching the soil. It mattered more that the android's matter wouldn't kill the trees and attract undue attention. He broke the link and came back to the here-and-now.
Eber rubbed his eyes and glanced around the room he occupied. The walls were old, a bit stained, and covered in vidposters. He looked down to the red couch, and frowned.
“Could you maybe cut that out while I'm in the same room zoning a meet?” he said to his sister, Eda. Presently, a far-too-perfect android had his tongue jammed down his sister's throat. The groping had just started, and her blouse already hosted more than two limbs. She didn't seem to mind in the least. “It creeps me out.”
Eda broke away long enough to glance over at her twin, a look of disbelief in her eyes. “Bullshit, Eb! I mean, how often do you even go out? You spend all your free time in the arms of that slut, Shara.”
Eber didn't take the last comment personally. Eda liked Shara, despite how the android often monopolized Eber's time. The smirk as she said it only confirmed the reality.
“But I don't do it like right in your face, or when you're trying to study shit, do I?”
She only stuck her tongue out at him, as the android stud proceeded to kiss her neck. Well, it's not like he was her boss. He got up and went outside, looking down at the traffic that ran passed their apartment. He remembered the old movies portrayed traffic as some kind of audible nuisance, but all he could hear was the familiar swish of near-silent vehicles cutting through air.
“You look upset,” said silky voice behind him. He felt a soft hand run through his hair, and he almost melted at the warm touch. “Tell me your troubles, my pet,” said Shara. “I'll make them go away. I promise.”
Eber turned into his artificial lover, giving himself to her comfortable embrace. The faint smell of lilacs caught his heart, as it always did, and he looked into her unnatural violet eyes, brushed sable locks from her face with his hand. “It is possible some bad men may die before too long,” he said.
“This is a tragedy?” she said.
“I don't know,” he said. “I just hope that kid knows what he's doing.”
“What kid?”
“It's nothing.” He caressed her cheek. “This is more interesting.”
She smiled, just before he tasted her lips. The traffic became even quieter.
Teacher: Lesson.2.d
Eber Talos observed the transaction with Crash, a critical frown on his lips. He didn't like transferring military -grade countermeasures in such a hasty fashion, but he understood the circumstances, and it was Crash, after all. People used to call the stuff black ICE, back in his grandpa's day, but calling it that now would be like calling a plane a “flying machine.” Eber liked to think he had more style. Either way, the stuff could kill, if allowed. He heard the target user already possessed the requisite code, which spoke volumes by itself, but transacting the hardware alone could still lead to hard time. Therefore, he participated through an unlicensed android. Amateurs often thought that everything had turned into ones and zeros, that the hardware didn't matter anymore, but he had proof to the contrary implanted in the wrist of his simulacrum.
The park he and Crash's android met at looked almost deserted, giving free reign to the squirrel and deer that darted between the thick tree trunks and boulders. The new neural implants had quickly taken over, and people often preferred vacationing in their heads to the real deal. After all, the only difference between fresh air and apartment air was in your head, so they said. Eber couldn't judge them: neither of them were actually in the park either, but in order to avoid undue attention, the surrogates engaged in an inane conversation, their artificial voices mingling with the sounds of nature. A psychoacoustic signature laced their conversation, an encrypted link that exchanged the true meaning of their banter.
“I don't want to know what kind of trouble your boy is in,” said Eber, “but if he uses this and it gets on the AlterNET, he'll have more to worry about than Rothman goons.”
“I know, Eber,” said Crash. His android laughed some lame joke, and replied with something equally vacuous. “But this isn't the time to play it safe, man. The Rothmans won't either, and my connection needs your goods to keep them off his tail for a bit. This one is the cautious type. I don't think he'll end up on the evening news, unless he turns up dead.”
“I hope you're right,” said Eber. His android gave Crash's surrogate a high five, passing the package into the other android's wrist. The two drones carried on their conversation, something about a local club. “For this guy's sake. The Rothman's are pussycats compared to military intelligence, and don't believe that 'Posse Comitatus' bullshit. Either way, they won't trace it back to me, or my sister. You I ain't so sure about. Watch your back.”
“Always,” said Crash. His surrogate turned and left, waving at Eber's android in a cheery fashion.
Eber watched him until Crash's machine disappeared around a bend in a trail, then he turned his android and walked it behind a copse of trees. He spoke a command, and the machine began to dissolve. Eber didn't care that the constituent carbon would end up enriching the soil. It mattered more that the android's matter wouldn't kill the trees and attract undue attention. He broke the link and came back to the here-and-now.
Eber rubbed his eyes and glanced around the room he occupied. The walls were old, a bit stained, and covered in vidposters. He looked down to the red couch, and frowned.
“Could you maybe cut that out while I'm in the same room zoning a meet?” he said to his sister, Eda. Presently, a far-too-perfect android had his tongue jammed down his sister's throat. The groping had just started, and her blouse already hosted more than two limbs. She didn't seem to mind in the least. “It creeps me out.”
Eda broke away long enough to glance over at her twin, a look of disbelief in her eyes. “Bullshit, Eb! I mean, how often do you even go out? You spend all your free time in the arms of that slut, Shara.”
Eber didn't take the last comment personally. Eda liked Shara, despite how the android often monopolized Eber's time. The smirk as she said it only confirmed the reality.
“But I don't do it like right in your face, or when you're trying to study shit, do I?”
She only stuck her tongue out at him, as the android stud proceeded to kiss her neck. Well, it's not like he was her boss. He got up and went outside, looking down at the traffic that ran passed their apartment. He remembered the old movies portrayed traffic as some kind of audible nuisance, but all he could hear was the familiar swish of near-silent vehicles cutting through air.
“You look upset,” said silky voice behind him. He felt a soft hand run through his hair, and he almost melted at the warm touch. “Tell me your troubles, my pet,” said Shara. “I'll make them go away. I promise.”
Eber turned into his artificial lover, giving himself to her comfortable embrace. The faint smell of lilacs caught his heart, as it always did, and he looked into her unnatural violet eyes, brushed sable locks from her face with his hand. “It is possible some bad men may die before too long,” he said.
“This is a tragedy?” she said.
“I don't know,” he said. “I just hope that kid knows what he's doing.”
“What kid?”
“It's nothing.” He caressed her cheek. “This is more interesting.”
She smiled, just before he tasted her lips. The traffic became even quieter.
If freedom is outlawed, only outlaws will be free.
My Stories: Teacher: Lesson 1, Teacher: Lesson 2, Quick Corruptions, A New Purpose
My Stories: Teacher: Lesson 1, Teacher: Lesson 2, Quick Corruptions, A New Purpose
-
Grendizer
- Posts: 175
- Joined: Thu Feb 25, 2010 9:24 pm
- Technosexuality: Built
- Identification: Human
- Gender: Male
- Location: The Darkside of the Moon
- x 2
- Contact:
Thanks, Asagao! And welcome to the forum.
If freedom is outlawed, only outlaws will be free.
My Stories: Teacher: Lesson 1, Teacher: Lesson 2, Quick Corruptions, A New Purpose
My Stories: Teacher: Lesson 1, Teacher: Lesson 2, Quick Corruptions, A New Purpose
-
Grendizer
- Posts: 175
- Joined: Thu Feb 25, 2010 9:24 pm
- Technosexuality: Built
- Identification: Human
- Gender: Male
- Location: The Darkside of the Moon
- x 2
- Contact:
Coming along, coming along. I'm sick at the moment, so I don't know whether that will increase or decrease my output. We'll see...
Teacher: Lesson.2.e
It's not like the orgy was unexpected, thought Baron. Even so, he hadn't expected Bethany to set the two skinless androids loose so quickly after returning to his dorm room. She just stood back with a wanton smirk on her face, playing with her curly hair. He suspected she just wanted to get his hormones out of the way, so she could get to his lessons, but he couldn't be sure. After all, it wasn't like she didn't enjoy herself; he'd made sure of that.
Baron's mouth felt dry, and his pulse seemed to tattoo his whole body. He had learned to read the fiber-optic light-show that flashed across Scylla's body, and he knew she was also aroused. Her translucent hand caressed his cheek, and her lips parted slightly. He could see himself in her shades, a faint hint of her searching eyes beneath their mirrored surface. He could tell that her gaze traced his lips, as her other hand caressed his stiff cock.
Not to be left out, Niobe stood just behind her lover, her hand working with intensity between the girl's thighs. But Niobe only stared at him over Scylla's shoulder. He knew that look. She craved his orgasm, the catalyst of her own release. That's how it worked when they responded to his arousal. The two mirror shades made them more anonymous somehow, and it made their impending coupling even hotter.
“Scylla?” he said.
The girl leaned closer, pressed her soft lips to his ear. “Yes, Master?”
“I need you to suck my cock now.”
He saw her neck sparkle with her blush. She whimpered something lascivious, and trailed a wet kiss down from his neck to his groin. She circled the head of his cock with her tongue, and he hissed his pleasure. Moments later her mouth had engulfed him, riding a lazy trail back and forth along his length. Seconds later, Niobe knelt beside her and began suckling his balls.
Baron read Bethany's smirk as a challenge, and he resolved not to be taken down so easily as he had earlier in the day. His cheek twitched at the sensations the two androids induced in his crotch, but he held his fire and held Bethany's gaze for minutes. After a while, he pushed the two away, breathing heavily.
“Lie down and open your legs, Niobe,” he said.
The girl smiled and did as bade. Her labia looked strange without the soft folds of her pseudo-skin to cover them. The translucent slit glistened with her juices, and he thought he could see something moving under her pubic region. He knelt between her legs and pressed himself over her body. Her pseudo-muscle felt smooth, and the the tiny combs of her mantle almost tickled him. He kissed Niobe, taking pleasure in the slickness of her lips, and the taste of her tongue. Baron lifted himself up from her, pinning her wrists down with his hands, and watched himself enter her. He could see the dance of lights, as her vaginal walls constricted around his cock. With fascination, he could see himself moving inside her, the image of his cock blurred by the layers of pseudo-muscle shrouding her pelvis. Her belly became a light-show, as she curled herself to meet his thrusts. She kissed his ear, and whimpered indecent and incoherent words.
“Please, Master,” she said, her tone a pleading growl. “Fuck me harder. I want you to come inside me!” Baron looked up to see Bethany still smirking at him, daring him to ignore the thrashing sexpot beneath him. She was stroking herself beneath her sun dress while she watched him fucking. By the flush on her face, he assumed she'd pulled out her Venusian Tongue, though her dress hid this from view. The thought almost made him lose control, because he remembered how delicious her tongue felt when it licked him. By the look she gave him, he suspected she knew what effect it had on him.
Abruptly, he pulled out of Niobe, who pouted at him. He got up on shaky legs and pushed Scylla against the wall, plunged himself between her ass cheeks. She gasped at the sudden action, but pushed back against his thrusts, driving him deeper inside her. “Please, Master,” screamed Scylla. “Fuck me harder. I want you to come inside me!”
If Baron's mind hadn't already been so hazy with lust, he'd have laughed at the refrain. He thought that Bethany's attempt to finish him off might have run into an heuristic carbuncle. She obviously thought that if dirty talk from one android worked, using an exact copy from another should have the same effect. Logical, he supposed, given her limited information on humor, but wrong of course. It did help him control himself a bit better, but he never broke his tempo. He turned his head to look at Bethany, and noticed that her smile had changed from a wanton smirk to a knowing grin. She probably wouldn't make the same mistake again. The readout on his AR suite said he'd been at it for almost an hour, about thirty minutes beyond her last exam. He felt he'd passed this time.
He pulled himself from Scylla, who sank to the floor panting, and took both androids by the neck, pulling their faces to his throbbing cock. He forced himself into Niobe's waiting mouth, while Scylla licked his balls. He looked up at Bethany, her face still wearing a peaceful smile, and he came down Niobe's willing throat. When his contractions subsided, Niobe fell away from him, taken by her own climax. She lay on the floor and convulsed. In moments, Scylla fell beside her, lost in her own orgasm. Baron smiled down at the pair, thinking that orgasms on command held an undeniable charm.
“You are my smartest student,” said Bethany, who shuddered in her own milder release. Her hand came out from under her dress, covered in her juices. “I am very proud of you. And now you have other things to learn.”
A chemistry set popped up in his peripheral vision again, and Baron groaned. “I knew it.” Bethany just smiled. The next three days went by in that fashion. Despite the chemistry lessons, he admitted to himself that he had little reason to complain.
….
“Boringly punctual as usual,” said Crash's fab drone. Baron's entourage turned up at the Crash Lab at the proscribed time. Baron could hardly contain his excitement at the new toys he had coming to him. He'd reached the realization that as much as he'd enjoyed the novelty of screwing skinless androids, he craved the skins he'd picked more than ever. They moved into the fab shop, and arrived at a pair of new equipment that he'd never seen before. They looked like ancient telephone booths, like something you'd see in an movie from the previous century. Somehow that seemed to fit Crash.
“Okay, ladies,” said Crash. “Strip down and hop in. We'll have you skinned-up in no time,” he added, less for the androids' benefit than for their root user's. Scylla and Niobe doffed their clothing and stepped into the machines. Crash took the mirrored shades from them, revealing their lidless orbs. The machines' doors closed in front of them, and Baron could hear a low hum start up. “Here we go,” said Crash. Suddenly, a sharp whine rose up from the machines, and the two androids got sprayed with pasty gunk in a set pattern. Nozzles inside the booth circled the two girls from head to toe. Silent commands prompted them to lift their feet or raise their arms. In only a few moments the process finished, and Crash led Baron and Bethany away from the booths, saying, “They need time to cure.”
Baron found himself in Crash's office again, looking over at the hulking drone that hosted his friend's voice. “Look, Baron,” said Crash. “You don't have to tell me what's going on ...”
“True,” said Baron in a sharp tone.
Crash sighed, said, “Like I was saying, you don't have to say anything, but I'm not stupid. I know you've got trouble with powerful people. Probably the Rothman Group.” Crash held up a twenty-fingered hand. “I don't really care if you deny it or not. Like I said, I'm not stupid. Anyway, my point is, I don't plan on losing a connection just because he doesn't trust me with his secrets. I've made preparations.”
Baron's eyes narrowed. “What preparations?”
“These,” said Crash. Three black rods emerged from the drone's raised hand. Their ends looked capped with gold circuitry.
Now Baron's eyelids flew wide open. “That's not what I think it is, is it?” The drone just stood there, silent. “Are you fucking nuts, Crash? Do you know how many laws I'm breaking now, just being in the same room with that?”
“About twenty, I think, give or take a few felonies,” said Crash in a flat voice.
Baron sat back heavily, staring at the rods. Crash's logic seemed sound. His situation might come to require such measures. But he didn't like it.
“Hey,” said Crash. Baron's gaze snapped to the drone. “Better judged by twelve than buried by six.”
For a moment Baron didn't respond, then, in a hollow voice, “Right. You're right.”
“Good. It's time.” The hulking drone got back to its feet and trudged out of the office. Baron followed.
The two skinning booths looked opaque now, and Baron could still hear the hissing. But he could see green lights blinking on the consoles of each machine. Crash's drone didn't appear to do anything, but the two booths suddenly popped open. Baron had expected some kind of voluminous outflow of smoke, but what he actually saw nearly stopped his heart. Two of the most perfect female creatures he could envision stood before him, eyes closed as if in suspended animation. They looked as if they'd come from some exotic mix, perhaps Nordic and Oriental. The androids reminded him of a long dead starlet he'd seen in an old 2D Superman series, something from his grandparent's time. He couldn't remember her name, but she had the same exotic look: almond-shaped eyes, coffee-and-cream skin, flowing straight black hair down to mid back, full and kissable lips, and breasts just large enough to cup in his hands with some flesh to spare. Their eyes opened, and he knew how to tell them apart, for their color hadn't changed. That, and he realized that Scylla had retained her attractive blush, despite the darker skin.
His gaze locked on Scylla, and he said, “Crash, you are a genius.” Scylla's blush deepened, but she smiled demurely. Bethany chuckled.
Crash gave a metallic grunt, and said, “Yeah, I know.”
Teacher: Lesson.2.e
It's not like the orgy was unexpected, thought Baron. Even so, he hadn't expected Bethany to set the two skinless androids loose so quickly after returning to his dorm room. She just stood back with a wanton smirk on her face, playing with her curly hair. He suspected she just wanted to get his hormones out of the way, so she could get to his lessons, but he couldn't be sure. After all, it wasn't like she didn't enjoy herself; he'd made sure of that.
Baron's mouth felt dry, and his pulse seemed to tattoo his whole body. He had learned to read the fiber-optic light-show that flashed across Scylla's body, and he knew she was also aroused. Her translucent hand caressed his cheek, and her lips parted slightly. He could see himself in her shades, a faint hint of her searching eyes beneath their mirrored surface. He could tell that her gaze traced his lips, as her other hand caressed his stiff cock.
Not to be left out, Niobe stood just behind her lover, her hand working with intensity between the girl's thighs. But Niobe only stared at him over Scylla's shoulder. He knew that look. She craved his orgasm, the catalyst of her own release. That's how it worked when they responded to his arousal. The two mirror shades made them more anonymous somehow, and it made their impending coupling even hotter.
“Scylla?” he said.
The girl leaned closer, pressed her soft lips to his ear. “Yes, Master?”
“I need you to suck my cock now.”
He saw her neck sparkle with her blush. She whimpered something lascivious, and trailed a wet kiss down from his neck to his groin. She circled the head of his cock with her tongue, and he hissed his pleasure. Moments later her mouth had engulfed him, riding a lazy trail back and forth along his length. Seconds later, Niobe knelt beside her and began suckling his balls.
Baron read Bethany's smirk as a challenge, and he resolved not to be taken down so easily as he had earlier in the day. His cheek twitched at the sensations the two androids induced in his crotch, but he held his fire and held Bethany's gaze for minutes. After a while, he pushed the two away, breathing heavily.
“Lie down and open your legs, Niobe,” he said.
The girl smiled and did as bade. Her labia looked strange without the soft folds of her pseudo-skin to cover them. The translucent slit glistened with her juices, and he thought he could see something moving under her pubic region. He knelt between her legs and pressed himself over her body. Her pseudo-muscle felt smooth, and the the tiny combs of her mantle almost tickled him. He kissed Niobe, taking pleasure in the slickness of her lips, and the taste of her tongue. Baron lifted himself up from her, pinning her wrists down with his hands, and watched himself enter her. He could see the dance of lights, as her vaginal walls constricted around his cock. With fascination, he could see himself moving inside her, the image of his cock blurred by the layers of pseudo-muscle shrouding her pelvis. Her belly became a light-show, as she curled herself to meet his thrusts. She kissed his ear, and whimpered indecent and incoherent words.
“Please, Master,” she said, her tone a pleading growl. “Fuck me harder. I want you to come inside me!” Baron looked up to see Bethany still smirking at him, daring him to ignore the thrashing sexpot beneath him. She was stroking herself beneath her sun dress while she watched him fucking. By the flush on her face, he assumed she'd pulled out her Venusian Tongue, though her dress hid this from view. The thought almost made him lose control, because he remembered how delicious her tongue felt when it licked him. By the look she gave him, he suspected she knew what effect it had on him.
Abruptly, he pulled out of Niobe, who pouted at him. He got up on shaky legs and pushed Scylla against the wall, plunged himself between her ass cheeks. She gasped at the sudden action, but pushed back against his thrusts, driving him deeper inside her. “Please, Master,” screamed Scylla. “Fuck me harder. I want you to come inside me!”
If Baron's mind hadn't already been so hazy with lust, he'd have laughed at the refrain. He thought that Bethany's attempt to finish him off might have run into an heuristic carbuncle. She obviously thought that if dirty talk from one android worked, using an exact copy from another should have the same effect. Logical, he supposed, given her limited information on humor, but wrong of course. It did help him control himself a bit better, but he never broke his tempo. He turned his head to look at Bethany, and noticed that her smile had changed from a wanton smirk to a knowing grin. She probably wouldn't make the same mistake again. The readout on his AR suite said he'd been at it for almost an hour, about thirty minutes beyond her last exam. He felt he'd passed this time.
He pulled himself from Scylla, who sank to the floor panting, and took both androids by the neck, pulling their faces to his throbbing cock. He forced himself into Niobe's waiting mouth, while Scylla licked his balls. He looked up at Bethany, her face still wearing a peaceful smile, and he came down Niobe's willing throat. When his contractions subsided, Niobe fell away from him, taken by her own climax. She lay on the floor and convulsed. In moments, Scylla fell beside her, lost in her own orgasm. Baron smiled down at the pair, thinking that orgasms on command held an undeniable charm.
“You are my smartest student,” said Bethany, who shuddered in her own milder release. Her hand came out from under her dress, covered in her juices. “I am very proud of you. And now you have other things to learn.”
A chemistry set popped up in his peripheral vision again, and Baron groaned. “I knew it.” Bethany just smiled. The next three days went by in that fashion. Despite the chemistry lessons, he admitted to himself that he had little reason to complain.
….
“Boringly punctual as usual,” said Crash's fab drone. Baron's entourage turned up at the Crash Lab at the proscribed time. Baron could hardly contain his excitement at the new toys he had coming to him. He'd reached the realization that as much as he'd enjoyed the novelty of screwing skinless androids, he craved the skins he'd picked more than ever. They moved into the fab shop, and arrived at a pair of new equipment that he'd never seen before. They looked like ancient telephone booths, like something you'd see in an movie from the previous century. Somehow that seemed to fit Crash.
“Okay, ladies,” said Crash. “Strip down and hop in. We'll have you skinned-up in no time,” he added, less for the androids' benefit than for their root user's. Scylla and Niobe doffed their clothing and stepped into the machines. Crash took the mirrored shades from them, revealing their lidless orbs. The machines' doors closed in front of them, and Baron could hear a low hum start up. “Here we go,” said Crash. Suddenly, a sharp whine rose up from the machines, and the two androids got sprayed with pasty gunk in a set pattern. Nozzles inside the booth circled the two girls from head to toe. Silent commands prompted them to lift their feet or raise their arms. In only a few moments the process finished, and Crash led Baron and Bethany away from the booths, saying, “They need time to cure.”
Baron found himself in Crash's office again, looking over at the hulking drone that hosted his friend's voice. “Look, Baron,” said Crash. “You don't have to tell me what's going on ...”
“True,” said Baron in a sharp tone.
Crash sighed, said, “Like I was saying, you don't have to say anything, but I'm not stupid. I know you've got trouble with powerful people. Probably the Rothman Group.” Crash held up a twenty-fingered hand. “I don't really care if you deny it or not. Like I said, I'm not stupid. Anyway, my point is, I don't plan on losing a connection just because he doesn't trust me with his secrets. I've made preparations.”
Baron's eyes narrowed. “What preparations?”
“These,” said Crash. Three black rods emerged from the drone's raised hand. Their ends looked capped with gold circuitry.
Now Baron's eyelids flew wide open. “That's not what I think it is, is it?” The drone just stood there, silent. “Are you fucking nuts, Crash? Do you know how many laws I'm breaking now, just being in the same room with that?”
“About twenty, I think, give or take a few felonies,” said Crash in a flat voice.
Baron sat back heavily, staring at the rods. Crash's logic seemed sound. His situation might come to require such measures. But he didn't like it.
“Hey,” said Crash. Baron's gaze snapped to the drone. “Better judged by twelve than buried by six.”
For a moment Baron didn't respond, then, in a hollow voice, “Right. You're right.”
“Good. It's time.” The hulking drone got back to its feet and trudged out of the office. Baron followed.
The two skinning booths looked opaque now, and Baron could still hear the hissing. But he could see green lights blinking on the consoles of each machine. Crash's drone didn't appear to do anything, but the two booths suddenly popped open. Baron had expected some kind of voluminous outflow of smoke, but what he actually saw nearly stopped his heart. Two of the most perfect female creatures he could envision stood before him, eyes closed as if in suspended animation. They looked as if they'd come from some exotic mix, perhaps Nordic and Oriental. The androids reminded him of a long dead starlet he'd seen in an old 2D Superman series, something from his grandparent's time. He couldn't remember her name, but she had the same exotic look: almond-shaped eyes, coffee-and-cream skin, flowing straight black hair down to mid back, full and kissable lips, and breasts just large enough to cup in his hands with some flesh to spare. Their eyes opened, and he knew how to tell them apart, for their color hadn't changed. That, and he realized that Scylla had retained her attractive blush, despite the darker skin.
His gaze locked on Scylla, and he said, “Crash, you are a genius.” Scylla's blush deepened, but she smiled demurely. Bethany chuckled.
Crash gave a metallic grunt, and said, “Yeah, I know.”
If freedom is outlawed, only outlaws will be free.
My Stories: Teacher: Lesson 1, Teacher: Lesson 2, Quick Corruptions, A New Purpose
My Stories: Teacher: Lesson 1, Teacher: Lesson 2, Quick Corruptions, A New Purpose
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