Daddy's Droid Ch. 07

Chapter 7: Monday - The Bimbo & Family Matters

So there we were, back at the mall, just me and Adele – and I wasn't all there, if you know what I mean. I was still locked in 'bimbo slut' mode, having taken her command literally ... even though I was reasonably sure she hadn't meant it. Not at the time, anyhow, although by this point she really should have noticed something was up with me. Of course, ever since my accident I was basically a robo-vixen, so maybe my behavior wasn't as different as I thought.

Or, rather, tried to think. Mostly, my mind was focused on trying to walk despite the input from the sensitive glans of my T-flex dong that was rubbing against the hem of my knee-length skirt. (I had worn what was easily the longest skirt in my closet so as to mostly hide the servo-dildo toy, which I'd crammed into my pussy at Adele's order). It was left to my Mistress to steer me away from the mall benches to avoid giving some random elderly gentleman a heart attack. Even my wildly swaying bum was putting them at risk, never mind a glimpse of my rude accessory.

So we marched on through the mall – left foot, right foot, avoid a hard-on, right ... no, left foot ... Whoa! My bimbo concentration was thrown off, because I'd sensed another droid close by. I looked around and spotted the same unaccompanied droid I'd noticed on our last mall trip. If you recall, I'd thought of her then as a sort of girl-next-door type - which maybe she was, if you happened to live in Jamaica next door to a modeling agency. The thing being, she wasn't what you might expect for a sex-droid. She was good looking, but in a competitive swimmer sort of way – she had short-cropped hair and a toned-muscle look going on. Her skin was a light mocha shade, with a convincingly lifelike glow. It crossed my sex-soaked mind that her absentee master was probably a mistress.

She was watching me, with almond-shaped green eyes. I got an odd, pitying look, and then she turned away. Judgmental or what? I thought. She was made in the same factory as me. Cute though (left foot, right foot ...).

After a while, as I plodded along behind Adele, it penetrated through my personal fog of lust that my mistress had been serious - we were heading for the little Versace shop we'd been more-or-less tossed out of before. Anyone else would have settled for swanning in the door with the Prada dresses we'd only just dropped a mint for, right around the corner, but Adele seemed to be serious about my fucking her.

Which, in my opinion, was in no way a punishment. However, as soon as that thought sashayed through my head, my programming cut in to pre-warn me that I couldn't play with the girl if she objected: I may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. I must obey any orders given to me by human beings, except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.

"Fuck me! I know all that – ya sound like a machine. Which, okay, you are - but you know what I mean. Are you all right?"

Cripes – I didn't even know I'd been talking out loud. Reciting out loud, more like. Adele had mentioned something about built-in droid laws, but I must have skipped past that part of the manual, too.

"All parameters normal." My droid-voice startled me, and I threw in another giggle. "I mean, sure. I'm good."

"You're damn good, and I think Miss Snooty will think so, too. Let's go see what happens." Then she noticed I was starting to pull my sleeveless top off over my head. "Stop that. What's got into you?"

"You told me to fuck you. And you like it best skin on skin ..."

"Too true. Okay, sorry. Cancel that order ... for now." She glanced around and added, "So put the shirt back on and let's go look in on our friend."

As it turned out, the girl's name-tag said she was called Miss Mountshaft. Which should have made me laugh out loud, except that at the time I was too bimbofied to register anything but her sexy body. The place was empty, being one of a row of shops set way up on the top level of the mall so as to not-so-subtly underscore the lofty prices within.

"Hey, there," announced Adele. "Remember us?"

Mountshaft paused a beat while she took in our fresh competitor-sourced fashions. Then, having smelled serious money, she purred, "Why yes. How may I help you?"

"In a while I'd like to try on one of those emerald skirts over there, but first my friend would like to help you." Adele shut the front door behind us and flipped the little sign to 'closed'.

I rolled my left boobie free of my tube-top, and wriggled my butt on over to the still baffled clerk. "I'm sorry," I said, "but you look like you got the sweetest little pussy. Can I have a taste? Pretty please?"

Either the synthetic sex pheromone I was exuding (at extra, Bimbo-sized dose levels) was designed to affect girls as much as guys, or maybe Mountshaft was already hot for it. With a slightly stunned look, she leaned back onto the sales counter and opened her legs.

Her skirt was mid-calf, but helpfully side-slit right up to her hip. I briefly thought I should buy me one like it, but that notion was quickly muscled out of the way, 'cause there wasn't room for it - owing to the fact I'd unwrapped her skirt and pulled her red thong aside, and was preparing to slide my tongue inside her. 'Single-minded' definitely described my status just then. In fact, to be honest, it was a bit of an overstatement.

If Mountshaft was aware I was exploring her tasty treasures unnaturally deeply, she made no sign. At least, her inarticulate whimpers didn't specifically suggest she knew she was being eaten out by a droid. She must have known she was being eaten by a pro, if I do say it – I had her teetering right on the edge of a major come for the next fifteen minutes.

"Enough, already," said Adele, finally. "Roll her over. Time to do her, doggy-style."

Mountshaft, who had been grinding her pelvis into my face, said, "Oh yeah! Fuck me!" and obligingly pulled off her blouse. She had the slim, boyish look of a runway model, which meant she had no need for a bra. I heartily approved of the pert little titties she flashed as she rotated to flop face-first over the counter. Once there, she pulled her thong down with both hands, letting it drop to her ankles. She then slipped one foot free and spread her legs wide.

I would have sunk my T-flex mechano-meat into her then and there, but my 'do no harm' programming registered that the subject human had not actually seen my attachment when she'd given me the go-ahead to fuck her. So, instead, I pulled her back by her hips, and rolled backwards myself. We finished up with me lying on the floor and her astride my chest with a fine view of said attachment.

Happily, the past quarter-hour at the verge of orgasm had cured any reluctance she might otherwise have shown. The fact that I'd somehow conjured an enormous erection didn't seem to surprise her. Or slow her down - she immediately performed the maneuver for which her name suggested a genetic talent. "Oh! My! God!" was her response as she drove herself down, and I felt her pent-up pussy spasm voraciously on the top of my sensitive tool. Still cumming, she began to bounce, taking more inside herself with each stroke.

After only about a dozen cycles, she sighed and then slumped forward like a rag doll, and I was afraid I'd broken her in spite of my programming to the contrary.

"Wow," said Adele.

"Jeepers! Is she okay?"

Adele circled around to check, and laughed; then she turned Mountshaft's head sideways so I could see for myself. The shop girl was grinning, and drooling slightly. Plus her eyes were rolling around a bit. "She'll be fine. Let's get her into the back room, so she can come round in peace. We'll check on her later – I still want to try on that skirt."

I wrapped my arms around Mountshaft and stood up – she was still impaled, so most of her weight was supported by my shaft in her pussy. Given my robo-strength, I carried her easily, excepting that since she was a little taller than me, her feet dragged a bit on the way into the back of the shop.

"Mmm, yeah," she gurgled as we lurched along. "Feels so good ..."

Since she was clearly 'unharmed', I decided to give her the whole treatment - a few rounds of faux-cum from my reservoir. When my tool throbbed and realistically pumped its load, her response was immediate: "OH! Yes! YES!"

I was pleased to feel her pussy muscles revive as another orgasm rolled through her to greet mine. "What's your name, sweetie?"

"Mariko ..." she gasped, still in the throws.

"Pleased to meet you, Mariko. Mistress says we can come again, sometime." I sat her down on a wooden chair and extracted my tool from her depths with a juicy slurping noise. "Won't that be nice?"

"Ung ... yeah ... oh, yeah ..." She slumped back and sighed.

"Bye for now, then."

We slipped out the front of the shop, letting the door close again behind us.

"That was fun," said Adele, as we walked away. "Let's cruise for some guys, now."

"Ya-huh," I said, and promptly began to grope under my skirt.

Adele turned to stare at me – and so did a passing man, who looked a little bit like Daddy.

"What are you doing?" This question came from Adele (again), not the stunned stranger.

"Just gotta twist ... there. Once it's undocked, I can suck it right up ... woooh! ... inside me. See?" I lifted my skirt to flash my now dildo-free pussy.

I doubt the guy heard my unusual cyber-anatomy lesson – he seemed to be experiencing some sort of brain freeze. Adele smirked at him, and then to me she whispered, "How many...?"

"Dunno! I didn't even know I could park the one in there." To that statement I added, inevitably, a brainless giggle. I also continued to hold up the front of my skirt – since dropping it while contemplating my inner toy garage would have been the rough equivalent of walking and chewing gum.

Adele shrugged and turned back to the still staring man. She obviously considered him a potential customer.

When I followed her gaze, my one-track mind shunted over to full-lust mode. The guy really did look like Daddy – he even wore a linen suit that clearly came from the same tailor. (Bimbofication may have impaired my common sense, but apparently my fashion sense had improved.) I started to drool ... from between my plump, bald pussy lips. "Where can we ...?" I really hadn't bonded with the stairwell as a love nest.

She grinned, and said to both of us, "Come on." Spinning on her heel, she led us straight back into Mariko's shop – right behind a pretty thirtyish woman whose quest for Versace had caused her to ignore both us and the 'closed' sign.

Oblivious to the lack of a traditional heroin-chic guardian shop girl, this intrepid fashion hunter dove strait into the rogues' gallery of distorted (but well-dressed) mannequins. Adele, on the other hand, slipped past her and swung behind the counter into the storeroom beyond, with me and my admirer in tow. There Mariko sat, still dazed and still wearing nothing but a damp red thong around her left ankle.

"Hey girl, how are you?"

"Full ..."

"Okay ... sure. Mariko – meet, uh, Daddy." She glanced at me and grinned again - she'd seen the resemblance, as well. "Daddy – meet our friend Mariko."

'Daddy' was obviously pleased to meet our hot, naked new play mate. Adele took charge of the proceedings, by ordering him to drop his trousers. He wasted no time obeying my little mistress's demand. I could see she'd intended to help feed his cock into Mariko's still gaping receptacle; but, in the event, the big veiny article he revealed apparently appealed to her so much that she changed her plan.

I dimly perceived ('dim' being the operant word) that my ramped-up output of pheromones was hitting Adele as hard as everyone else ... so I wasn't amazed when she leaned in to give Mariko a big smoochie kiss, and then flipped the hem of her summer skirt up to expose her bare backside for 'Daddy'. My boss-of-me friend, who'd only seemed interested in watching, had come over all slutty.

The substitution seemed to trouble him not at all. He simply humped his pelvis forward to engage her twitching pussy, and then stepped into her. Luckily, she was seriously pre-lubed - her little red bush was glistening with runlets of leaking girl-juices. Unopposed, his cock slammed in to the hilt, although he had to crouch slightly to manage it. Once in her, he stood up straight ... which lifted her feet right off the ground. She wrapped her arms around Mariko and continued to French the weary thing. It was left for 'Daddy' to grip her wide-spread thighs and pump himself in and out of her.

That's when I heard the woman who'd preceded us into the store calling for service. Seeing as Mariko was occupied, I decided to help her out by playing shop girl. How hard could it be?

"Hi – watcha need?"

Could be, I wasn't what the woman was expecting – although my ample boobies were mostly crammed back into my tube-top. Or maybe it was the faint squelching and girlish-squeaking sounds coming from the back room. At any rate, my new customer gave me an odd look, then shrugged and said, "Do you have that in a six?" A jerk of her head identified the party-gown in question, which at that moment was tarting up a particularly carnivorous looking mannequin.

I sized up her generous hips and chest, and then said, "Lady – that's it. That's the only one in the store. Maybe in the world. But I'll bet it'll fit you just fine." Quite sure I could mash her in, I wiggled over and proceeded to hoist the dress over the dummy's head, copping a feel of plastic mini-tits while I was at it.

When I turned back to offer her the dress, I found she'd already shucked off her lawyerish linen shirt and skirt, and now stood there in black bra and panties, plus a belt and suspender thingie that held up her stockings. I'd heard of such garments, of course, but I'd never met them on the flesh, as it were. It looked a bit kinky – which is to say, I approved.

She had already developed the same glazed look my other companions now wore. I glanced at the poster-strewn shop window beside us – only one or two shoppers were wandering past outside, between the glass and the railing of the vast open mall atrium the shop looked out over. The coast was clear, near enough, so I knelt and slipped about eight inches of tongue between her frilly laced panty-hem and thigh.

It was déjà vu all over again, as I swirled my way deep into her tasty snatch. Only this gal – I arbitrarily decided she looked like a Stella – was, as noted, much curvier than Mariko. Stuffing her into that little gown was a challenge I looked forward to ... after I'd teased her out of the remaining bits of stuff she was currently wearing, of course.

There was another difference - Stella was more into participation. Once I'd bottomed out with my tongue, she started wailing, and crushing my face into her crotch with both hands. It should have hurt, excepting that I was impervious to that (Adele had told me that pain was an optional extra – a subject I had chosen not to pursue). And of course I fortunately didn't need to breath.

It crossed my mind that when I'd recently deep-throated Greta's double-ender, it was able to plug itself in somewhere near where I presently had my own T-flex stowed (even though it had been pushed in from the other direction). And so ... therefore ... it followed ... In my bimbo-state, that's as far as I got. I had nothin'.

Fortunately for Stella, my manufacturer had anticipated this very problem. As I puzzled on where my thoughts were aimlessly wandering, my body went to semi-automatic, and the nearest end of the dildo inside my chest came sliding up my throat. So I reeled up my busy tongue and, even as Stella gasped in protest, I replaced it with something much fatter. By the time the mega-wang had locked into place (that is to say, inside me, not Stella), I found my face had been pushed clear of her soggy crotch by about six thick inches of excess dildo, which separated my stretched lips and her equally stretched pussy-lips.

Stella apparently didn't mind the loss of my nose action on her clit – her shrieks doubled in intensity. Even in my dozy condition, it occurred to me that she might bring unwanted attention onto us. Not that I let up, of course.

In the event, the noise brought my mistress, who marched out with a well-fucked, gunslinger-style swagger, followed by her sticky, naked admirers. "Daddy," she ordered. "Put your tongue down this one's throat, will ya? That's the way. Good Daddy."

With 'Daddy's' assistance, Stella subsided into muffled groans, as I continued to bob my head and probe my tool in her clutching cunt. That woman could sure roll out a fine orgasm.

Mariko joined in to take advantage of 'Daddy's' unengaged cock and had started to lick it clean of its coating of blended cum-juices. Adele, who was still as buzzed as the others on my hormonal output, had chosen to go all ambi-sextrous by straddling my exposed portion of mouth-cock and then unwrapping and munching Stella's ample breasts.

Poor Stella – her pussy was going all frantic on my wang thingie. It seemed a shame to disappoint her, so I fired a good load of cum into her womb. Her answering shrieks managed to sneak past 'Daddy's' tongue, and Adele whooped, too, as my shaft pulsed between her grinding cunt lips.

Maybe my mistress was becoming conditioned to my chemical charms - leastwise, a little while later she managed to come to her senses, more or less. She extricated herself (and me) from our new friends' attentions; then she tried on the green dress she'd fancied earlier. Seeing as it fit her perfectly, she rang it up, using the credit card she'd extracted from 'Daddy's' abandoned wallet. They failed to notice us slip out of the shop afterward – they were by then too busy performing some sort of mutually satisfactory three-way act on the floor.

The possibility that a confused reality might overtake them as my influence wore off didn't occur to me until we were well on our way. Actually, I would never have thought of it, except that I said something uncommonly vacuous to Adele, and she simply replied, "Geez, Tracie! Grow a brain."

And so I did. At least, I reverted to the settings I'd found myself at when this droid thing all started. "Right. Um. Adele ... what about Mariko and 'Daddy' and Stella?"

She gave me a look – if I was back with the smarts, I clearly wasn't showing it.

"Stella?"

"Oh. I just sorta gave that other woman a name – in my head, like."

"Hmmm, right. I expect they'll get by. Maybe we'll look in soon and see if they've become a regular item. A fuckathon session every Monday afternoon, sort of thing. That would be cool. As for now, it's time to take you home. I'm gonna call for a cab." She held up a business card. "Carl said to ring him up anytime."

** ** **

It was after five o'clock by the time Carl the cabbie delivered us back to my place, where we'd started. I paid off the fare in the front hall, doggie style, after which he let Adele tip him by licking his lovely tool clean. Once we assured him that we'd continue to call him for all our future transportation needs, he staggered back out to his car.

"That was great," said Adele. "Let's do it again tomorrow – same time, same place?"

Well, there was another direct order. "Yes, Mistress." Not that I wasn't keen.

Adele just smiled – she was definitely getting off on this boss thing.

"I don't know if Stella is up for another visit so soon, though," I suggested. "Plus, how are you gonna get outa school early again?"

"Oh, I can get another day or two out of the 'girl problems' line. By then, I think I can work out a payola deal with Dr. Brodrick. He's been peeking under my skirt lately, when he doesn't think I'm looking. A few quickies in his office should keep my grades up to par, into the bargain."