Daddy's Droid Ch. 06

Chapter 6: Sunday & Monday - Organ Grinding (Recorded & New) & Ave Maria

We managed to get clear of the mall and back home with time to spare – time enough, even, for my daily hot shower (including flush 'n lube cycles) and a kiss for Daddy, before I hustled my ass onto my charge base.

* * *

When I switched back on, it was late Sunday night, and Daddy was too tired for more than a half-hour quickie on the kitchen table. He was pretty gloomy, too. Well, fair enough. We tried to believe everything was great, and maybe it was, but he had only just found my corpse the day before. And it (or I, if you prefer) was literally stiff - he'd managed to mislay me for over a day, which must have been somewhat embarrassing. Plus, tomorrow he had to make arrangements for my funeral. Both of us were still trying to wrap our heads around that idea. We went upstairs and snuggled until nearly midnight, and then Daddy fell asleep.

Lying cozy beside him for a while, I wondered about Adele Two. She was programmed to believe she was the real deal. Was I, too? Programmed that way, I mean. I knew I was currently a machine - unlike Adele Two who, despite my broad hints, still considered it normal for some girls to have servo-motor components and batteries. But I also thought I'd previously been Tracie. Was that just my software talking?

The idea freaked me out. I slipped out of Daddy's bed and wandered comfortably naked around the house for a while. By now I had a handle on accidentally triggering a recorded Lacy session. I had to want it, and even then I had a brief chance to back out. So it was safe to look around. Everything – everything – looked more than just familiar. Most of it had some sort of story attached: when it was bought, or how it had acquired that deep scratch (the one on the piano was me, when I'd lost control on my roller blades). Point for my side, but unfortunately it didn't prove squat.

What I finally decided was, fuck this existential shit. Like it or not, I pretty much had to go with the flow. I certainly felt like Tracie – so maybe it didn't really matter.

On that note, I decided to search out a recorded Lacy-fuck I hadn't experienced yet (or at least my Tracie-self hadn't). But when I walked past the fireplace, I just had to start with a re-run of "French Maid with Feather Duster". Reaching up to the mantle, I immediately feel Daddy's cock driving up my ass. I also felt the heat on my belly from the suddenly materialized fire in the hearth, and likewise the heat of his shaft inside me, as I braced myself to enthusiastically meet his thrusts. He had a firm grip of the leather bustiere enclosing my rib cage, and after a solid five minutes of shagging, he stopped - while fully engaged - and said, "Feet up, girl."

He swung me a half turn around as I obeyed, so that I now held my thigh-high, spike heeled boots (my only other garment) straight out in front of us. Then he just stood there, warming his bare bum at the fire and allowing me to catch my breath (figuratively), while I settled just that little bit more onto his throbbing member.

Soon enough I felt my already grasping tunnel go into overdrive as my first orgasm swept though me. And still Daddy held me steady although, to be exact, it was his cock that held me up, while his warm hands lightly kept me stable. I had no trouble holding that odd pose because, robot. Even so, my second and third cums were making it hard to concentrate, so that at the peak of each, my excited pussy squirted girl-juice onto the rug.

It was just after Big 'O' number three that he marched me behind the sofa, folded me forward over the back of the thing, and began humping me until at last I felt the flood of his sperm-laden cum. After we'd relaxed, he leaned forward over me and kissed my neck, before extracting himself from my backside. Remaining slumped where I'd been deposited, I heard Daddy positively snicker before he slipped the handle of the duster (which he must have scooped from the sofa cushions) up my well-lubed back channel.

And then the room was quiet again, the fire was off, and Daddy was gone - and so was the duster. I stretched, then giggled myself - if I wanted to know how my old man talked his way out of that stunt, I would have to ask him. That reminded me – when this was recorded, the not-yet-dead me was sleeping downstairs. Sheesh!

A little wobbly, I went to the breakfast room and poked around - I still couldn't seem to bring up the index folder I'd seen the day ... well, the day Tracie 1.0 had died. After turning a lap around the heavy oak trestle table, I stopped in front of the mirror - and abruptly saw my reflection now wearing that trampy schoolgirl-Lacy costume, lit up by the morning sun shining in the window. I was also wearing the black leather collar I'd worn that first day, the leash hanging down between my barely contained breasts. And I had lifted my skirt hem with my left hand, so as to better see the right one as I pulled aside the crotch of my thong and slipped three fingers between my pussy lips.

Oh, and Daddy was standing behind me, his bathrobe open, watching me frigging in the mirror.

It wasn't long before I leaned forward, head against the glass, to ride out my self-induced orgasm. That's the stuff, I thought. Then I stood upright and made eye contact with Daddy.

He grinned, and stepped close behind me, so that his cock folded up between my butt cheeks ... and up my back. Then he reached around me and took over, massaging and spreading the inside of my cunnie with a finger of each hand. And then two, and three ... at which point I could feel his fleshy truncheon tremble, and deposit a bit of pre-cum leakage in the small of my back ... and I was over the moon again.

This time I slumped back against Daddy and his stiff woody, to ride it out. My orgasm, that is - he didn't put his tool in me, and he didn't cum on my back. He just held me gently until my shaking stopped, and then dropped his robe onto the floor and asked, "Would you like to go for a walk, Tracy?"

My uniform had already clued me in that this was to be one of Lacy's performances as me. God only knows where I was – maybe this was that day Daddy had given me fifty bucks to blow with Adele at the mall. At any rate, I (or, more exactly, Lacy) said, "Yes, Please, Daddy!" Whereupon I pulled off my clothes, tossed them in the corner, and dropped onto all fours.

I hadn't seen that coming, even after the leash play (also on that first day). These two were full of surprises! Lacy then lifted me up onto my fingers and toes, thereby forming a posture mildly reminiscent of a dog's. I walked like that to Daddy's side, and he leaned down to secure a butt plug in my ass, which fitted me out with a plumed retriever's tail.

I gave Daddy a joyful poke in the crotch with my nose, and then he picked up his end of the leash and led me through the house. Walking like that was way more comfortable than I expected – I found myself cavorting along beside him. Briefly, I thought we were going to go out the front door, but we circled around and out the back. There he unhooked my lead and had me chase a tennis ball, and bring it back in my teeth. Geez - I even wagged my tail! After two retrievals, I ran around with the ball, still on all fours, just out of his reach. He chased me and, having let myself be cornered, I finally spat the thing out and crouched with my ass high in the air in his general direction.

This, at last, was the part of the game I was hoping for, where Daddy became the alpha-male dog and I his bitch. I swung my tail invitingly to one side. And then he was on me, pressing me down even though his arms supported most of his weight, while he prodded my undercarriage with his rigid cock, seeking out my hungry cunt.

When he felt that leaking entry, he drove home – and, rather than scream out, I let out a convincing howl. To be honest, I had no idea how dogs did it. It was enough that he fucked me hard and long. We hunkered together in the angle between two little rose bushes where I had been brought to bay ... under the meager shade of a little ornamental cherry tree, out in the middle of our back yard.

In the event, Lacy knew at least one thing about dog sex. Just as I could feel Daddy was about to cum, she clamped down hard at the base of him. He couldn't thrust, but he came all the same, his jizz forcing its way past the obstruction and flooding inside me. Even as he spurted great gouts of the stuff, my own orgasm hit, and I howled again. I did not, however, release my inner grip on him. Instead I growled. He was still damn hard, and the mass of his cock and cum inside me was delightful.

We crouched there, locked together, for ten minutes more. Eventually, Daddy whispered, "Okay, Tracy," and I let him go. He climbed off, lifted me into a drooling, cum-leaking bundle and carried me back inside. Having lugged me back to the breakfast room, he sat down on the armchair by the door, with me curled all cozy in his lap. Even though Lacy was basically pretending to sleep, the recording continued to play. After a bit, he set me on my feet and had me put the goofy school uniform shirt back on; meanwhile he wrapped himself in his fuzzy robe.

The big finish turned out to feature me leaning on the sill of the wide-open window

with Daddy leaning out almost on top of me ... so as to fuck me from behind, while we watched Mrs. Ellis's hot young gardener Tony trimming the top of the hedge between our houses. The layout is such that he was clipping away (old-school, by hand) only a few feet lower than us. We were looking almost right across at him, but Pop kept toiling away in my still sloshy cunt. Luckily, owing to the relative lack of friction, I wasn't visibly bouncing - much - so Tony didn't really pay us much attention until Daddy gave me an extra hard stroke of his cock somewhere past where my uterus used to be, and I let out a startled squeak.

Tony looked over and smiled, but gave no clear indication that he knew what we were up to; nor, far less, that he had maybe only half an hour ago heard (or even seen) me howl in canine ecstasy.

"Give him a wave," Daddy said, and I did, wide-eyed as I came yet again. I think I mostly kept it together, although I did let slip a leftover growl - and I know I was crazily wagging the tail I'd completely forgotten about ... oops.

And then it was dark outside, and I lay naked with my belly on the windowsill, waving into the night breeze.

When I sorted myself out, I realized my feet and belly were all grassy and wet with dew. And while there had been no actual man-cum, I'd left a trail of my own secretions across the room and out the door. I had, as usual, performed my share of the whole thing.

That last recording was a bit weird but, excellent fuckage aside, I gotta say that the notion of my scampering around the yard in the middle of the night, acting that shit out - that was way cool. Considerably cheered up, I went back upstairs and sprawled out in a pile of pillows on my bed, where I preceded to idly fiddle with my clit as I browsed more of my owner's manual. There was an appendix listing my toys, but sadly no pictures of said items in service. After that disappointment, I flipped back through a few pages of densely worded bumf, until I came across the following:

* Verification of location and time: In the default mode, the inertial navigation, GPS and clock functions for your PD1600 are active. However, particularly for secondary personalities, it may be desirable to disable the device's higher-level access to these functions in order to prevent temporal or locational misalignment malfunctions.

After re-reading this mumbo-jumbo three times, I realized why the Adele-bot didn't know what day it was – she'd been set that way.

* Nevertheless, the internal telemetry system used for remote monitoring and tracking will remain active.

Say what now?

* WARNING: Do not override these core systems, as tracking and retrieval of malfunctioning units will be impaired.

Tracking and retrieval? The notion of having to deal with some sort of Acme Robotics corporate blade runner, one day, did nothing to cheer me up. Neither did trying to call Adele on the 'mind-line' com-link. I knew she wasn't wearing the gizmo, but she kept it in her bedroom, which is where I expected her to be - given that by this time of the night she should probably have finished whatever fuck-a-thon she'd been engaged in. But, nada. Not even a dial tone. I had to face the fact that it was a one-way deal – a sort of 'I'll call you, don't call me' set up.

About then I finally had that now familiar 'run down' feeling and went over to sit on my chair. There was a tiny 'snick' sound as a hatch opened, and then the power probe was snaking up my ass. I felt that cool little buzz and then ...

* * *

... without further ado, it was early Monday morning.

All refreshed, I padded downstairs, where I found a frilly little apron and made Daddy a big breakfast – sausages, bacon and eggs, the works. Turned out he was still too depressed to eat much, but I had another idea how to fix that. I dragged him out into the sunshine - into the backyard in which I had only just been surrogate-fucked - and past those rosebushes over to the swing he'd made for me years ago in the backyard. The thing had a comfy big saddle-leather seat that was hung by fifteen-foot silky ropes from the branch of a big old maple tree. After I gave him a cheer-up smooch, I lay down belly-first on it and spread my legs, just at his groin height. Subtle, huh?

Daddy took the hint and set to work – he in his pajama pants and me in my skimpy little apron.

It wasn't quite as kinky as it sounds – you could only see us from Mrs. Ellis's kitchen, next door, and she never gets up this early. Oh, and from out on the road, I suppose, if you were out walking your dog or something. After a while I twisted so as to take hold of the rope and, with a fancy scissors move, I managed to spin around so I was face up, still impaled on Daddy's dick. He grinned and tilted me up towards him, then he turned around to sit on the swing seat with me in his lap.

Once we were settled back in, he began to pump - his legs, I mean. It took a bit of cooperation to get some height happening, but soon we were soaring, and every time we peaked, I'd keep on going – just far enough that I'd slide half way off his pole before we both arced back down again. Needless to say, at the bottom of our swoop across the lawn his cock was driven deep back inside me. Whee!

So, okay, maybe it was a bit kinky. Anyway, after some loud whooping we let the swing come to a stop, with us leaning against each other and giggling. After a few minutes, though, Daddy was starting to look all sad again. It occurred to me that he had to leave soon for the funeral parlor, so I said, "How about a simple service? Like maybe one of them horse-drawn hearses, some hired mourners, and a jazz band?"

"For one thing, you hate jazz. And for another, New Orleans is presently underneath ten feet of water - again. This is L.A. Why not a vintage Caddy hearse with a Wurlitzer on a flatbed to follow it?"

I licked the tip of his nose (which might have left over from the doggy thing). "Could work. I suppose a Viking funeral is out, too, with the cool flaming boat and stuff? Huh. Oh, well. I'll put up with the basic version, but I want something like 'She'll Be With Us Always' on a fancy tombstone."

"Done. But maybe we'll spell it 'All Ways'."

Well, topic notwithstanding, Daddy had cheered right back up to full staff inside me. So, hands under my bum, he stood up - whereupon the tie of his jammie pants gave way and they dropped to his ankles. I laughed but, undaunted, he stepped free and marched me over toward the gazebo, while singing 'I'm a Lumberjack and I'm Okay' at the top of his lungs.

That's when I finally got a call from Adele on the com-link thingy in my head. "Wacha doin'?"

"Kinda busy right now ..." I tried not to move my lips as I answered.

"He's fuckin' you, isn't he? Who's on top?"

I looked over Daddy's shoulder and saw a face in the window next door. It was Maria - Mrs. Ellis's pretty little housekeeper. I gave her a fluttery wave, like Lacy had given the gardener, and wondered if the two of them were an item. Maria and the gardener, that is, although maybe Mrs. Ellis ...

"You still there, babe?"

Oh yeah, Adele. I answered her, my train of thought lurching along its slightly twisted rails with each thrust. "Uh ... neither one of us ... is on top ... He's walking ... around the yard ... with me bouncing ... on his cock."

Daddy strode on, matching the rhythm of his march with his silly song. "Now we're headed ... right through ... the koi pond ... oh ... Maria just ... waved back ..." The strings holding my apron on had failed not long after Daddy's pants had let go, way back by the swing, so we were gloriously naked.

"Who's Maria?"

"'S okay ... you'd like her ... here we go ... around the roses ... Oh! Oh! Oh!"

"What? What?"

"Daddy just stepped ... on a thorn ... he's hopping ... on one foot ..."

"God! I wish I could see this!"

"Now Daddy's ... finally seen Maria too ... He's started singing to her ... 'Maria ... Maria ... I've just met a girl ... called Maria' ..." Honestly, I love Daddy (obviously), but I don't think the man knows any songs under a hundred years old. "Can you hear it?"

"It doesn't work that way, silly. What's she doing?"

"Uh ... she's blowing us kisses ..."

"All right!"

"Cripes! ... He's marching us ... closer to her window ... and now he's singing ... 'How do you solve ... a problem ... like Maria?' ... She looks like ... she has some ideas ... about that ..."

"Cool! There's the bell – I'll call you back in a while. Ciao."

"You're at school?" But she had already hung up – or disconnected, or whatever - and of course she was at school. It was going on for 0900 hours.

Out loud, I said, "You gotta go soon, Daddy."

He smooched the top of my head, gave Maria a final chorus and then stumped his way back to our back door.

>< >< ><

Half an hour later, I'd already had a restorative shower, and was back in my bedroom.

"Hey!" said Adele, inside my head.

I jumped – as usual. "Geez – I thought you were in class."

"I am – Doc Ignatiez is droning on about iambic pentameter ... I think." There was a pause – apparently she was looking to see if the coast was clear, since she didn't elaborate on the possible subject of the lecture. "I wanted to get hold of you before you shut down. I'm gonna go home sick, after lunch - Max is gonna pick me up." Another pause. "I'll tell 'em its 'girl problems'. Which is nearly true. I'm kinda sore down there – Uncle Maxie fucked me nearly every which way goin', after Richard dropped me off yesterday. Then when Greta woke up, she joined in, too."

"That's nice," I said. Jealous, moi?

"I'm making you horny, aren't I? How many fingers ya got in there?"

"My arm, actually. Up to my elbow. I'm really flexible, now."

"Oh, sure. Be a bimbo slut! Listen – it gets better. Max switched Greta over to be Adele, while we were fucking by the pool. Like, she was sitting on his cock and I was sitting on his mouth. I don't even know how she understood his command, he was so muffled down there. Ooh! Muffled by my muff - get it? So anyway, Adele looks around and asks where you went. For her it was like you just up and disappeared. Well, plus now there was a cock up inside her instead of your tongue, and it had got dark outside, too, but she didn't seem to notice any of that. Anyway, we fucked some more, the three of us. She just thinks I'm Max's other niece Adele, one she'd never heard about until now. Shit like that actually happens, right? Turns out she's pretty cool – we've got lots in common."