Double Trouble

Lacy and Stacy are mirror image twins who have run wild over their father, Chief Master Victor Bartholomew. They come to W and ask him to build a machine that can determine which of the pair is Mistress and which is the sub so they can join their father's club. After some careful consideration, W agrees. This story is rather mild, sex-wise and bdsm-wise, but overall has a nice pleasant glow to it. It will especially appeal to those who are into machine-themed stories. In any case, I think you will like it.

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WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.

All characters involved in sexual activity in this story are over the age of 18. If you are under the age of 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.

Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2020 by The Technician.

Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden.

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There are few things that upset me more than a client who comes to me at the last minute. And right now I am pretty upset. The annual party for the local BDSM club in which I am actually a member was coming up and I already had more than enough work to do. But as the date got close, I got multiple texts, emails, and voice mails all of which began, "W, would it be possible..."

Some wanted rather standard equipment but wanted it immediately. Luckily, I had most of what they wanted in stock. Some wanted specialized equipment that no amount of money could make happen in the time available. Some wanted... well, they didn't know what they hell they wanted. And then there were the twins.

Lacy and Stacy were RBB twins. RBB is a notation I use in my personal files. It stands for Rich Bitch Brat. That doesn't mean I won't do work for them. I work for some pretty nasty people, so petty, spoiled brats are not a problem. As long as someone doesn't want an assassination device or some kind of pure torture equipment or a device that would do permanent bodily harm, I don't care what kind of personality someone has. As long as their money is good, I will build what they want. And for most of my clients their money is good... and plentiful.

Unfortunately, many of their children are brats. So I have to regularly deal with RBBs and RABs. The A stands for asshole. Somehow it doesn't feel right to me to call a female an asshole, though I have met a few for whom the epithet actually fits. And I've met a few males who qualify more for the bitch moniker. The twins were definitely RBBs.

Lacy and Stacy were spoiled brats growing up. When they turned twenty-one and their full trusts became available to them, they got worse. Their dad, Victor Bartholomew, knew they were brats. He once said, "I wish I could blame their mother for them being spoiled, but I'm the Master of the house. I'm the one who did it."

Victor was afraid that his Master-slave relationship with their mother, Barbara- known in the club as slave babs- might bleed into his parenting. It did, but in reverse. He was so afraid that he would be too masterful over his children that he basically let them run feral. They grew up pretty wild and had several run-ins with the law. When they were nineteen, they and several of their college friends, got arrested when the cops busted a free-for-all drug-induced orgy in the middle of the town park. The arresting officer told them, "I would think that children of Chief Master Victor would know what was allowed and what wasn't tolerated in this town."

After daddy had bailed them out and paid the fines, they wanted to know what this "Chief Master" thing was all about. He tried to put them off, but they pushed pretty hard. And it is hard enough for a father to resist one daughter batting her big doe eyes at him. When two do it in unison, resistance becomes almost impossible. He told them what Chief Master meant... sort of. The BDSM club scene is something that is better experienced than described. They were made probationary members of the club and classified as "neutrals." That is the same designation used for a spouse who knows of her husband's- or his wife's- membership, but does not participate as a Master or a submissive.

Last year they attended the annual munch as observers... more or less. Their eyes got really wide the first time they saw their mother naked at their father's feet. Their eyes- and their mouths- got even wider as they witnessed some of the activities of the club. Nothing- except the actual Master/slave relationships- was anything that they, themselves, hadn't already seen, done, or participated in. What was surprising to them was that someone as old and uncool as their parents did any of that. Chief Master Daddy was a little surprised himself that both of his daughters knew how to tie some of the complicated bondage knots that were used for various activities during the night.

This year is the last year that the twins can attend as probationary members. At this year's meeting- if they desire to remain members- they have to declare themselves as Mistresses or submissives and request full membership. If they chose Mistress, they will have to find a submissive... and a mentor who will guide them in the proper rules, expectations, and responsibilities of that position. If they choose submissive they will have to find a Master or Mistress who will fully train them. The club will, of course, help them in all of that once they have declared themselves.

About three months before the meeting, they came to me and asked me to create a special machine for their "coming out" as they called it. They have this habit of talking in a weird almost unison that can drive you nuts in a really short time. It is bad enough that one will start a sentence and the other will finish it, but sometimes they will alternate basically every other word or speak in perfect unison. Or worse, they will suddenly babble at each other in some strange not-really-a-language that only they could speak or understand. They have the strongest twin bonding I have ever seen or experienced. It is like dealing with one person split in two.

Stacy and Lacy are identical twins with perfectly-proportioned faces and equally perfect bodies to match. Some of my friends would say that the twins have small tits, but I disagree. I go by the adage that more than a handful is helpful, but more than a mouthful is wasteful. Their 36C breasts are perky and symmetrical, and their bright pink nipples point just slightly up. Since both girls are exactly 5' 3" that means that when you are looking down at them, their breasts are looking up at you, often through a thin, clingy blouse or sweater... and no bra.

Most people can't tell them apart, but if you can get your gaze to move up a little ways off their chests and actually look at their faces, it's pretty simple. Both girls are heterochromatic. That sounds like some weird sexual perversion, but heterochromia actually means that your eyes are multicolored. It can be in one eye with part of the circle of the iris green and the rest brown or it can be complete heterochromia, sometimes called pure heterochromia, where one eye is one color and the other eye is a totally different color.

Lacy's left eye is a brilliant Irish blue, while her right eye is heather green. Stacy is a mirror image. Her right eye is blue while her left eye is green. You just have to remember that the blue (L)eft eye belongs to (L)acy.

Lacy also has a small, round birthmark in the center of her left buttocks- again remember the L in Left and Lacy. Stacy has the same, identical birthmark, but it is in the center of her right buttocks. I have seen them both in bikinis, or maybe what they wore that day should have been called microkinis- besides which they were topless. In any case, I've seen just about everything there is to see for both Lacy and Stacy and can tell them apart from the front or from the back... providing their eyes are open and their asses are bare.

I once asked Stacy if she had situs inversus, since she was a mirror image of Lacy in every other way. I had to explain that it wasn't an illness, but rather just the term for someone whose heart and other organs were on the opposite side of where they were in most people.

She looked at me a little confused and then said, "Oh! That's why the doctor listens to me here..." pointing to just beneath her right breast, "... and he listens to Lacy here..." pointing to just beneath her left breast."

She smiled at me, pointed down at her crotch, and said, "But the important stuff in the middle is in the right place." Then she cocked her head as if she were thinking and said, "But my larger flap is on the right side while Lacy's is on the left."

It was my turn to look confused until I realized that she was talking about her labia that extended slightly from her slit. That was one identifier that I didn't think I needed to remember because I would probably never, ever see it.

The day they came to me they were surprisingly respectful. "Mr W, they said in unison. Then they continued in their every other word fashion, "we - would - like - you - to - build - us - a machine - or machines - so - that - we - can - decide - which of us is a slave - and which of us is a Master."

Then they both smiled at me with the most mischievous smiles I had ever seen. As they stood there for what seemed like several minutes standing totally still with their heads cocked slightly to one side and that little girl smile frozen on their faces I realized why their dad had such a hard time not spoiling them. I also noticed that Lacy's smile curled upward slightly more on the left side while Stacy's curled more on the right side.

"I assume you want this machine for the night of the party," I replied, "and not for some special event."

Their bodies remained frozen, but their faces relaxed as they answered in unison, "Of course, Mister W. It would be even better if the machine or perhaps the people at the party made the decision for us."

Then Lacy said, "We know that one of us is the Master sometimes, but not all the time." And Stacy continued, "And one of us is the submissive slave sometimes, but not all the time." Then they said in unison, "We are our own Mistress and submissive pair, but we don't know which is which. Would you help us find out? ... Please?"

That last word was drawn out quite a bit and accompanied by the synchronized batting of two sets of eyelashes. No wonder Master Victor couldn't resist them.

"OK," I responded, "but there are some caveats. You came to me really late for this so I am going to have to push aside other projects rather than scheduling it in. That means that I am going to charge you triple for my labor. The parts will also be more expensive because I will have to use priority rush shipping from God knows where for things I might need. In other words, it is going to be expensive."

"We agree," they said in unison. They didn't ask the price, but for most of my stuff, including when I am doing detective work for someone, if you have to ask, you can't afford me.

"And for this to work," I added sternly, "it will have to be a surprise to everyone, including you. No one sees what I have built until the night of the party."

"We agree," they again said in unison.

"OK, then," I said, trying to hold my stern demeanor against the onslaught of their beauty, their sparkling eyes, and their smiles. "Now get your pretty little almost identical asses out of here."

"Bye, Mister W," they both said as they turned and bounced out of my shop. As they went through the big door, they both turned and gave me a little wave. Lacy waved with her left hand while Stacy waved with her right. Or maybe it was the other way around. They weren't close enough for me to see the colors of their eyes.

After they left, I expressed my frustration by talking to myself in a bad imitation of their unison voices, "Mister W, what in the hell have you gotten yourself into this time?"

My apprehension got a boost later that afternoon when I heard a soft knock at the door to my shop. I wasn't expecting anyone and the security warning hadn't indicated that anyone had driven into the parking lot. Also, there were no cars visible on the security monitor. I flipped the monitor to the door camera- which would have happened automatically if whoever it was had used the doorbell.

I put my Glock back in its holder beneath my workbench when I saw the smiling face of Lacy- without Stacy or anyone else- standing at my door.

I opened the door and gestured for her to come in. "Yes?" I asked.

"Well... um... Mister W," she began haltingly, "I have some additional... specifications... for whatever it is that you are going to build for me and Stacy."

"And they are?" I said, trying to keep any suspicion or anger out of my voice. I was already starting to regret agreeing to this. It was beginning to feel like a typical RBB project.

"Well," she began after taking a big breath and letting it out, "what we said before wasn't exactly true. I mean, both Stacy and I enjoy someone doing things to us. But Stacy enjoys it a lot more than me. And we both enjoy being really in charge. But I enjoy it a lot more than Stacy. So I think that both of us would be happiest if you would rig the machine or the final results or whatever so it comes out that I am the Mistress and Stacy is the submissive."

She batted her eyes at me and asked, "Do you know what I mean?"

"Yes, I think I do," I answered, slowly nodding my head up and down. "You want to cheat to make sure that Stacy is your slave and you are her Mistress."

"It sounds kind of harsh when you say it like that," she replied, "but, yes, that's what I want you to do." She made a strange face and sort of shrugged and then said, "I think both of us would be happiest that way."

"OK," I said. "I will take that into consideration as I design and build... whatever."

"Thanks, Mister W," she said with a big smile.

"One thing," I said, stopping her from turning to leave. "I don't see a car out there. How did you get here?"

I actually was more interested in how she got all the way up to the door of my shop without triggering any of the security systems.

"Oh," she said, almost excited, "I rode my bicycle. The trail goes along where the tracks used to be. I locked my bike to a tree and then came across the big concrete area where they tore down the warehouse. Then I just walked around your building to the front door."

"Thank you," I said, "that is very helpful to know."

As soon as she left, I made several notations about upgrading my security system. I normally do a threat assessment every six months, and the warehouse was still there six months ago. I mentally kicked myself in the ass for not checking things when it was recently taken down. My sensors were set up to detect someone going into or out of the area between the buildings. I hadn't realized there was a blind spot between the sensors that became a hole in my detection once the building was gone. Once Lacy, with her petite size, was actually against the side of my building, she slipped under the sensors. It was time for a full upgrade on all of that. My workshop isn't quite as protected as my houses, but I don't want someone sneaking up on me and surprising me.

I went back to my desk to work on a few ideas that were forming in my head. Then about an hour later I heard another soft knock on the door. I triggered the camera and almost said, "What now, Lacy?" but then I noticed the blue eye was on the right side. This was Stacy.

I opened the door and gestured for her to come in. "Yes?" I asked.

The sense of dejavu was absolute as she began, "Well... um... Mister W... I have some additional... specifications... for whatever it is that you are going to build for me and Lacy."

"And they are?" I said, trying to keep from smiling like an idiot. Somehow I knew for sure what she was going to say next. And she didn't disappoint me.

"Well," she began after taking a big breath and letting it out, "what we said before wasn't exactly true. I mean, both Lacy and I enjoy someone doing things to us. But Lacy enjoys it a lot more than me. And we both enjoy being really in charge. But I enjoy it a lot more than Lacy. So I think that both of us would be happiest if you would rig the machine or the final results or whatever so it comes out that I am the Mistress and Lacy is the submissive."

She batted her eyes at me and asked, "Do you know what I mean?"

"Yes, I think I do," I answered, slowly nodding my head up and down. There were several things I wanted to say, but I decided to stick to the script and said, "You want to cheat to make sure that Lacy is your slave and you are her Mistress."

"It sounds kind of harsh when you say it like that," she replied, "but, yes, that's what I want you to do." She made the same strange face that Lacy had, shrugged and said, "I think both of us would be happiest that way."

"OK," I said. "I will take that into consideration as I design and build... whatever."

"Thanks, Mister W," she said with a big smile.

After she left, as I was walking back to my desk, I could have sworn I saw a white rabbit hop into the corner, sit up on his back legs, and check the time on his big pocket watch before he said to me in Lacy and Stacy's unison voices, "Welcome to Wonderland, Mister W."

My subconscious was working more than overtime warning me that shit was getting weird. I opened my desk drawer and took out my bottle of dark rum and a small glass. As I filled it nearly to the brim I said, "Curiouser and curiouser." Then I sat sipping rum and making notes and sketches on my big desk pad. Seven hours and half a bottle of rum later, I had gotten nowhere. I looked over at the corner of the room to see if my watch-wearing rabbit had any ideas, but he had evidently hopped off to inhabit someone else's hallucinations. Then I did what I should have done as soon as Stacey left. I called Jamie.

"How's my favorite shrink?" I asked when she answered the phone.

"Something is up, W," she replied, "or you wouldn't have called me at home at this hour."

"What time is it?" I asked, and she replied with that deep throaty laugh of hers, "Something is definitely up, W, if you've lost track of time. How much of that bottle of rum do you have left?"

I sputtered slightly and said, "What makes you think I've been drinking rum?"

"You always sip rum so you can think better when you are working on a difficult problem," she said in her professional therapist voice. "Since it's damn near midnight, I'd say you've thought your way through at least half-a-bottle."

"It's at least a half-a-bottle problem," I replied. "I got suckered into making something for the Bartholomew twins and I don't know what to do."

"I can't help you design something," she replied softly. "You're the technical genius."

"The equipment is a minor part of the problem," I answered. "Lacy and Stacey are the big problem. I'm supposed to come up with something that determines which of them is Mistress and which is submissive and they both want me to cheat so the other is the submissive."