A Little Job

Lincoln moved all of Lyssa's files, control structures, routines, customization apps, documentation and what have you to his datapad, covered all of his tracks, and hibernated the terminal. With a few taps, he pulled up some of the more esoteric functions from her Shaper abilities, just to understand exactly what she'd been doing to him, and focused himself for a moment. What he Made settled over the terminal invisibly, waiting for that damn thief to come home. Single shot, but it would be potent. Then he leaned back in the rather nice chair and unzipped to inspect the damage.

His briefs were ruined, just shredded. The pants would probably have to go, too; the seams were barely holding on. His dick rose mightily before him, a thick, veiny shaft longer than his forearm, throbbing with need. She'd done quite a number on it, but it was only the appetizer. What she'd really gone after were his heavy, fuck they were heavy, testicles. They strained at the skin around them, huge swollen balls the size of cantaloupes. Ripe cantaloupes; he couldn't help himself, and rolled them gently back and forth, and could swear he heard them sloshing. He knew that's not how balls worked, but the feel of it was enough to mess with his head and convince him they were huge, overfilled cum tanks ready to blow at any moment. He shook his head, pulled his hands away, and managed to get himself under control before he carefully, gingerly, zipped back up with the utmost of care and walked back to the bedroom.

Lyssa grinned at him, so happy she looked like she could burst. "There you are cutie pie! I was wondering what was keeping you. I like this game; being tied up so I can't chase you has got me so worked up I can hardly contain myself. You handle your business so we can get to the pleasure?" Fucking hell, that voice. She was perfect.

"Lyssa, do you like it here?"

"Oh, I love it when you say my name. Nobody ever says my name, and having it on your tongue and lips is almost as good as having me on your tongue and lips." Seriously, this teensy little hottie was insatiable.

"I'll call you by name as much as you want, Lyssa, but I asked a question."

"Oh right. I like it here with you. I'm so lonely when you're not here, lover. Just so lonely."

Her programming was for a purpose, she was designed to tempt and tease and please and fuck, but she was a person behind it all, and what she meant was clear to Lincoln. She got left here, like a thing, like just another one of the objects that the thief had acquired, and he wasn't enough for her. All her intelligence, all her love, all her desire, all her powers, going to waste in a warehouse where she only occasionally got to be the fuckbuddy she wanted to be, and mostly was just a trap waiting to be sprung.

"You wanna come with me?"

"More than anything, you handsome man you."

"Well alright then. Now, no big sexy times until we get you home, you hear? I have to walk."

Her face fell, but Lincoln knew it was an act. Mostly. He'd halted the routine that made her pump up his package with every touch. Now, it would be her choice.

"Aww, okay, I understand. But when we're home, then we can have the biggest of sexy times, right? Please? I want you to stuff me so much." Fuck, he didn't know if he'd make it all the way home if she kept talking like that.

"The biggest. All you want, angel."

"Yay! Oh, where's home?"

"New Orleans. You'll love it."

He released the net, and it shimmered, pixelated, and disappeared. Lyssa flitted up to Lincoln's shoulder and settled her fat, delectable ass right on him. She faced sideways so his vision wasn't entirely filled with lush titflesh. He didn't grow at all. For now.

Four days later, relaxing in the new tub he'd bought with the money from his big little job, his body long since back to normal, Lincoln's datapad pinged with a news alert. Seems a number of open criminal cases in Maine had been solved when the Admins got an anonymous upload from a terminal that suddenly popped up on the grid, like someone had spiked in a wireless transmitter. They tracked the owner down without much trouble, and he didn't try to flee. He couldn't, not weighed down with a four-foot schlong and balls the size of overstuffed beanbags. Lincoln loved it when people got a taste of their own medicine.

"Hey cutie pie, when you're done in the bath, I made you lunch! I also have some dessert for you."

"Coming, sugar." Of course, it was some damn good medicine.