All of My Maids are Robots? Pt. 02

I nodded again. "So, none of you wanted to actually take him aside and tell him to stop being an asshole, and he was surrounded by assholes who were like, 'hey, fucking be a huge dick!' all the time, constantly, and then he became a huge dick." I nodded.

"A gentlewoman refrains from words like 'asshole' and 'huge dick' as often as possible," Georgette grumbled.

I blushed. "Right. S-So, um...what do we do?"

"Well, as you are currently of age...you are eighteen right?" she asked.

"No, I'm thirty four," I said, blushing, excitement exploding inside of me. See, I had thought that maybe the fact my body had no aches or pains was because of the fancy space magic. But no, no, I was actually eighteen again. I was...I was eighteen again.

"Ah," Marci said, blinking, while Georgette nodded faintly.

"But you have never had a deportment lesson? Etiquette? Sewing?" She sighed as I shook my head three times in a row. "What do you know?"

"I can flip burgers and I saw a whale once!" I said, cheerfully. "Oh, also, I've watched every episode of the Clone Wars CGI show three times and I can recite the entire Beetlejuice musical! Though, uh, doing BJ's voice kinda fucks my throat up."

Georgette nodded. "Very good then. This means that we have a plan ahead of ourselves: In two weeks, there is going to be a ball -- the Spring Formal. Every daughter who has reached her age of majority will be being presented there. It is required for you to attend. That means we have two weeks to begin your transition, prepare your dress, and teach you the bare essentials to pass as the new Duchess of Burgundy II." She sighed. "Fortunately, everyone expects an Acquired Sex to-"

"Oh, trans!" Jeanette said.

"I beg your pardon?" Georgette asked.

"A better term: Transgender, trans woman, trans man," Jeanette said, cheerfully. "With the corollary of cisgender, cis man, cis woman. It's better terminology, borrowed from our new Miss' old universe."

"Ah." Georgette paused. "Well, they do seem to be serviceable neologisms. I enjoy the Latin...yes." She nodded. "Yes, this will do nicely. Now! People will expect a transition of this sort to effect a character change, which shall cover for any gaffes caused by you not being Albert." She nodded. "If we manage to pass you off, then we'll all be golden."

I nodded.

"But there is one question that must be answered," Marci said. "What name would you prefer to transition from. You cannot go by Albert. How about-"

"Lucy," I said, immediately.

"Lucy Fitzland-Lancaster..." Marci said, weighing it on her non-extant tongue. "That will do."

I was hit by this...intense wave of euphoric pleasure, which tingled from my head to my toes. I leaned back in my seat and smile.

"Cool," Jenny stood and stretched, her arms popping and clicking. "I'll go and get the horse fixed."

"You crashed again, didn't you?" Jeanette muttered.

Jenny spoke under her breath in a mincing tone. "You crashed again muh hmuh muh muh."

***

Georgette stood before me and clapped a ruler against her palm and my brain was just scrambled silly by the intense, unavoidable realization that she was just, stupidly hot. My side was itching slightly from the surgery (still weird to have gone under and come out again the same day, with a faintly aching bandage over the place where my Girl Implant had gone. Jeanette had said that I didn't need to do anything -- just sit there, let the hormones do their work.)

I swore, it was psychosomatic, it had to be, but I already felt lighter.

Or maybe it was the fact all of my blood was going to my giiiiiiiiiiiiiiiirldiiiiiiiiiiiick.

Because Georgette was just...she was curvy, but unlike Polly, that wasn't like, the soft squish curves of a girl who ate too many cupcakes. Which was impressive workmanship on the people who had put Polly's modifications together, because she was a robot, she didn't eat cupcakes. But no. Georgette was built like a fucking supermodel. She had an hourglass figure, a waspish waste, and she filled out her governess dress like a goddess filled out a speedo.

"Today, we're going to begin with the basics of etiquette for a young lady," she said. "Once Abby has finished getting the dresses from the local craftsmachines, you will be able to practice in properly fitted clothing -- but for now, we shall be covering the social graces. Now, I..." She frowned. "Miss Lucy, are you paying attention?"

I was looking at the space above her head, my thighs locked tight together. "Yes, just..."

"Out with it," she said, sternly.

"W-Why are you so hot?" I asked, the words popping out of my mouth.

"Miss Lucy!" Georgette exclaimed. "That is not how a young lady should speak. That's a low, coarse way to describe the feminine beauty of your partner -- and, more over, highly inappropriate to use on a machine. Machines and humans do...dally with one another, but it is best kept behind closed doors, in the privacy of an intimate relationship, not flaunted out about to the greater society. Understand?"

We're behind closed doors, I thought because my brain was empty, only room for girl. But I nodded.

"Now," Georgette said, her hands going to her round hips, her skirts rustling slightly. "If one must compliment a man or a woman, then one must first, stick with what has been proven by their character. Compliment gamesmanship or skill at hunting, bridge, or even dice. Conversations should include amusing and entertaining anecdotes -- stories that are both self contained and not overly long, measured to provide spice without dominating a conversation. A gentlemwoman is neither the center of the orbits, nor is she a lonely comet. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said, nodding. "Though, uh, not gonna be complimenting many men."

"And why not?" she asked, cocking her head. "You are going to want a husband, are you not? I did not take on the responsibility of raising a woman who is going to become a spinster, not when there are so many fine young noblemen out in the Concert."

"I'm gay?" I said, my cheeks flushing.

"Then you should be delighted at this transformation in your fortunes!" Georgette said, chuckling softly. "You will, as a dutiful wife, be expected to be witty and charming to attract a husband, and bring him pleasure at home and abroad."

"Pleasure?" I stammered. "Like, uh..." She was confused. Had to correct. But too hot. Brain not working.

"Ah, well," Georgette said, coughing. "You are eighteen, so...you will, of course, pleasure your husband with your body, in the way of such things."

"Zuh?"

"Well, if your surgeries are not be completed. If they are, you will of course use your, ah, delicate flower," she said, nodding slightly, then coughed, and I noticed her cheeks were actually flushing. "Though, since we are going to want to see you married off to some likely gentleman as soon as possible, it may occur before your surgeries, meaning you will have to rely purely upon your mouth."

"Mouth?" I stammered.

"Ah, they must be quite sheltered on your world," she said, nodding. "Well...I suppose, if you are this excited for a husband, I can show you. Come, on your knees."

Now.

Uh.

Did Lucy...

A) Sheepishly Correct the mistaken Governess

B) Exclaim: "I'm a gay woman, you clinking, clattering cacophony of colligenous cog and camshifts!"

C) Say: "Whoa, no, I know what sucking cock is, dude!"

D) GET ON KNEES NOW

If you said anything but D, you haven't been paying much attention. I knelt down in a hurry, while Georgette looked aside. "Now, this is normally not a lesson given to girls until their eighteenth year. Which, I suppose you are, though...I mean, you were raised as a male, but you were a girl the whole time..." She said, even as her hands reached down, her delicate, intricately detailed brown fingers taking hold of the skirt and lifting them up frilling around her. There were her sleek cute ankles. There were her calves. There was her massive fucking robot cock and balls. Like. When I say massive, I mean that my throat instinctively tightened a bit and my eyes widened and I wished I was the one holding the ruler and not her -- her left hand was still holding it, the measuring stick dangling along her thigh.

My eyes flicked from cock to measuring stick to cock again -- trying to guesstimate. My brain said: Anywhere between nine and thirty inches.

"Y-You have a cock?" I squeaked.

"Well, I wasn't unboxed as Georgette," she said, her voice huffy. "Now. To do this properly, you must first recollect: Even whilst in the midst of pleasuring your husband, one must retain decorum and refinement. Purse your lips. More so," She said, nodding, then narrowed her eyes. "Better. This is how one begins. Your husband may take your hair like thus..." Her metal fingers slipped through my hair. Guh. Lucy brain no think good, horny yes. My cock throbbed and she pressed the tip of her dick against my lips...and then drew the cock back, making me want to whine slightly.

"But sometimes, you will need to take the initiative, if your husband is shy or a virgin," she said, cooly. "Demonstrate this now -- show me how you think a cock is to be grasped in your hands."

I gulped, my head spinning. She had tasted faintly of teak and slippery, flavorless lubrication. But I swore that it had a faintly salty aftertaste. But I slowly closed my hands around her cock. Hands. There was room enough for both. Georgette made a contemplative 'hmm' noise and said: "Not bad hand placement, but you could stand to apply slightly more pressure. Even a human husband would not be so sensitive as to require such tenderness -- though, you should also be attentive to the specifics of your partner..." She nodded as I started to pump my hand up and down her cock, my nose breathing eagerly, drawing in her scent.

My brain.

Spinning.

"Now...you may begin to lick. Though, do not be slovenly about it. A machine sex worker may be liberal with their pseudo-salavia and have a dripping chin before their partner has even entered their mouth, but you, Lucy, are a lady. You will suck cock like it."

I nodded and tried to be dainty. But her cock was riiight there. And it was big and thick and my brain had gone completely mushy and horny. But no. I was going to be a good noblegirl. And good noblegirls licked dainty. Tiny, feathery licks, the flat of my tongue slipping along the head of her cock, my other hand reaching down to gently squeeze and fondle her metallic balls, which raised questions, but they were questions I could worry later. Georgette crooned, softly, then murmured. "Now...you are showing quite some promise. You may apply more of your lips -- sucking the head of my cock into your mouth...yes, quite like that..." She sighed, softly. "You must also be aware that, while gentlemen are trained in the deportment and etiquette that you...nnh..." She grunted as I pushed my lips forward, sucking the first few inches of her cock into my mouth, my eyes fluttering shut as I focused purely on the size of her.

Jaw ache. But in good way.

"Ah..." Georgette murmured. "You, ah, may find...that boys sometimes resort to...crude language while taken in the passion caused by...a cute...little noble whore sucking on her cock..." She panted, and her fingers gripped tighter. "They may find themselves unable to control themselves when such a welcoming throat is before them and..."

She pushed forward.

Hard. My eyes widened and I made a soft gluck noise as her cock thrust deeper into my throat. I trembled and gripped my hands on her hips, trying to look very refined but...I swore my throat was bugling slightly. "That's a good girl, good little whore..." Georgette murmured, her voice growing husky. "Yeah...you're good at this..." She thrust again, grunting, her cock sliding deeper into my throat. I strained to open my mouth wider, my nose flaring, drawing in little bits of air, my brain a fuzzy mass of happy subbiness.

"T-That...was ...of course an example of such coarse language!" Georgette murmured, her cock half in my mouth and her hands loosening on my hair. She rocked back and I made a happy moaning noise, my tongue swirling against the underside of her cock. "Do you, ah, need more examples for the lecture, miss Lucy?"

I made a gurgling mumbling noise around her cock, my eye rolling back, so I could look up past her rumpled skirts, past her breasts, into her glowing, eager eyes. Mmmummhhmmm was the best noise I could make.

"Very well then," she crooned. "I hasten to remind you that this is for your edification alone."

She shifted her grip. Tightened her fingers.

Mummuhhhmmm was basically the only thought in my brain, everything else had been squished out by the eager gleam in those holographic eyes, in the hard pressure of her cock against the roof of my mouth, of the dainty little licks I tried to give the base of her as she trembled inside of me. A thick spurt of her pre-cum soaked my tongue. Then she thrust. Hard. She growled as she did so, and while her lips didn't move, I swore that I could see her jaw tightening as she growled. "Yes, you've waited your whole life to be this eager cockmonger, have you not?" She thrust and I made a ulping, gagging noise as I tried to open my throat for her. But she was pushing on despite my struggles, feeding me inch after inch after inch of her cock -- I utterly lost count as my nose flared, trying to draw in breath.

"Yes, take my cock, little noble whore..." She groaned. "Ah, you've wanted me to do this ever since you sat down in my class, haven't you? Always undressing me with your eyes..." She grunted, drawing back, then thrust in again -- and this time, she managed to hilt her cock in me. My jaw ached and my tongue was pressed flat and I was little more than an eager hole for her and that was perfect. That was all I was made for. My eyes half closed and my own cock throbbed as she fucked my throat, working into a rough, ready rythem, her balls gently slapping against my chin as she gripped my head -- not just squeezing my silvery blond hair, but actually cupping the back of my neck.

"Nnh! Yes! Yes! You human whore, you live for my robot cock...ah...you always imagined I had a pussy for you, didn't you?" She grunted. "But now we see who has the bigger cock, huh?" She chuckled. "You little bitch..." She panted, her eyes closing as her hips whirred, her fans growing hotter and hotter -- buzzing through her. "You want your Proctor's cum all in that little whore throat of yours, don't you, huh, don't you?"

I tried to moan in the affirmative. My hand had reached down and I rubbed against my bulge, desperately -- but her hand gently clapped against the back of my neck. "No touching yourself during your lesson, Miss Lucy!" She snapped.

My hand clapped away and pressed to my thigh and I tried to sit up just a tiny bit -- my brain having only room for two thoughts: Cock. And Class.

Georgette threw her head back.

And she came.

Hard.

Cum gushed down my throat and I drank and drank and drank, but there was simply too much of the thick, faintly salty stuff, and it spilled out around my mouth, dripping down my chin. I reached up, cupping my hand under my chin, catching it, not wanting a single droplet to escape. My eyes shut and I sucked -- and then her cock slid back. I pushed forward, slightly, trapping the tip of her cock in my mouth, my throat bobbing as I drank one last spurt from her. When her cock drew back, a thin strand of her spunk mixed with my spittle connected my smeared lips to her cocktip and Georgette panted, huskily, her fans whirring loudly. She stepped backwards and I licked up the cum that had sloshed onto my palm.

"Very good..." She crooned, sounding faintly impressed. "You went so far as to even ensure you did not drop any on your dress...you remembered that a lady's fashion must always be protected..."

I blinked, licking the last droplet of cum up, leaving my hand glistening. "Zuh?" I mumbled, my head spinning like I was on a Ferris wheel. "I just...cum good?"

Georgette sat upon a chair, letting her skirts slip back down over her teak knees. She leaned backwards and sighed, softly.

"We have a great deal of education to go on, don't we?" she murmured.

I nodded.

"I'm gay," I said. "As in I like girls."

"Oh," Georgette said, blinking. "Well, then, you should have mentioned so at the beginning of the lesson!" She managed to scowl entirely with her eyes as she reached under her skirt. There was a faint click, a hiss, a pop, and she pulled the cock out from under her skirt. "Next time-"

I stammered. "I-I like sucking cock, too!" I said.

Georgette paused, holding the cock like an exquisitely detailed sex toy, her eyes narrowing. "Let me get this straight-" heh. "You are a transwoman."

"Yes," I said, nodding.

"Who likes girls," she said.

"Yes," I said.

"Who also enjoys orally pleasuring cocks?" Georgette asked.

"Yes," I said.

"...you do know that this means your future romantic partners will either have to purchase certain augmentations, or you will only need to date transgendered women, yes?" she asked.

"...yes," I said, nodding.

Georgette actually chuckled, softly. "Well. That does help to refine my lesson plan." She slid her cock under her skirts, then clicked it. "However...your throat work was rather uninspired. And you did touch yourself, despite being instructed that a lady, even while she is sucking cock, must retain a certain measure of dignity. A noble lady, when she brings herself pleasure, does so in a way that brings joy and happiness to herself and to any others who are present. So, if you are unwilling to bring pleasure to others while pleasuring yourself, you are not to do it while others are present -- and when others are, and are engaged in pleasure with you...you need to put on a better show than that!"

She nodded. "We shall begin with coquettish looks and proper thigh placement. Knees, apart, back, arched. Now!"