My Brother's Stupid Backpack

"Mierde," Alicia swore, flying out of bed. Why hadn't anyone woken her? She was sure she'd told them she had an important final this morning.

"Hello?" She called down the hallway, peeking out her bedroom door. "Estamos aqui?" When no one answered her she threw the door open and ran naked for the shower, snatching an orange from the fruit bowl on her way.

"Mine?!" Squawked Rodrigo, a harsh-voiced parrot that her parents were re-habbing after being poorly kept as a pet.

"No, whoreson d'estupido," she muttered, slamming the bathroom door and smirking at the thud and flapping that came from the other side.

She stepped into the shower and turned on the water, stepping back against the wall to avoid the initially cold stream. Alicia admired the way her nipples pebbled from the cold while she broke the skin on the orange and tore the fruit in half, using her teeth to pull a segment loose and eat it. Once the water was hot she stood with it running over her, dropping orange peels as she made short work of her morning routine.

She washed her face and ran her soapy hands over her body economically, wishing she had time to do something to ease her jittery nerves. She used the hand-held showerhead to rinse, perhaps just a bit more thoroughly than hygiene required, and promised herself more later for a job well done, shutting off the flow of water reluctantly.

Her tatas danced erotically in the bathroom mirror while she brushed her teeth and she wished she had time to take a video of it, but alas. She'd forgotten a towel so she had to make an exhilarating dash back to her bedroom to get dressed.

"Puta!" Screamed Rodrigo, clawing at her shoulder as soon as she emerged from the bathroom. Alicia screamed and batted at the bird in self-defense, taking cover in her room before he could get another attack in. He'd left four deep scratches, bleeding faintly, from her shoulder to mid-back. She muttered foul curses about him while she dressed, checked the contents of her backpack, and hustled out the door as fast as she could.

"Fuck!" She screamed at the jungle, staring at the spot where her jeep should be parked, right next to her parents'. Both spaces were empty.

"Mama and papa borrowed your jeep for an important rescue," came a muffled voice from behind her, making her jump. She looked around, but saw no one.

"Diego?" She asked, squinting into the forest beyond their clearing. She couldn't see her brother, but his backpack was lying in the driveway.

"No, yo soy," came the voice again. Alicia walked over to it and flipped it over with her foot.

"Phew. Gracias," the backpack said with its creepy face. She shuddered and stepped away, racking her brain for a plan.

"I could help," offered the backpack's voice, from the ground.

"No thanks," she snapped nastily, feeling crazy for talking to a backpack.

"Suit yourself," retorted the backpack, aloof. "I thought you had something important today,"

"I do!" She stressed, stomping her foot angrily. "If I don't pass this test today, I can't start medical school in Sao Paulo this fall!" She screamed in frustration, hands fisted in her hair.

"Can you make a jeep?" She demanded, having reassessed her options.

"Diego doesn't have his driver's license yet," pointed out the backpack.

"But I do," she countered between clenched teeth.

"Doesn't change my programming," he answered, unapologetic.

"So what... can... you... do?" Alicia demanded angrily, fighting the urge to kick the stupid thing.

"Al rescate, amigos!" Shouted the backpack abruptly, powering up. Alicia rolled her eyes.

"I can turn into a pogo stick. Will a pogo stick help Alicia get to her class on time?" He asked cheerfully.

"No," she snapped tightly.

"That's a shame," muttered the backpack, crestfallen. "Alicia's tits would have looked amazing-"

She kicked it.

"Ahem. Yes. I can turn into a white-water raft!" Announced the backpack proudly.

"Look around, estupido! Do you see any white water rapids here, for me to ride to class?!"

The backpack fell silent. For a moment she thought it might have shut down just to spite her.

"Will a bicycleta help Alicia get to class?" It muttered resentfully.

"Is that the best you can do?" She demanded with disgust. They'd paid a fortune for the stupid thing. It didn't answer. She growled in frustration.

"Fine! A bicycle will help me get to class," she prompted begrudgingly.

"Ayudame! To the rescue!" It shouted, transforming into the most basic bike she'd ever seen.

"Jesus de Christo," she muttered, snatching the helmet violently and jamming it onto her head.

"Make sure it fits nice and snug," murmured a seductive voice in her ear, "get that chin strap tight, you want it really on there-"

"Ugh!" She shouted, drawing a chuckle. "Stop that!" She kicked the bicycle over into the red dirt.

"Oof," said the bike, no longer in her ear. "I'm programmed with a female persona too, if that would make you feel more comfortable," it offered, shifting to sultry feminine tones halfway.

"No thanks," she answered dryly, pulling it up out of the dirt by the handlebars. She shifted her weight and raised her foot to mount it, aborting the action midway with a disgusted shout.

"What the fuck are you doing?" She yelled, looking down at the backpack's face... on the seat.

"Hmm, might be a glitch," it replied, looking around innocently. "Maybe you should update my software later," he said, wagging its eyebrows suggestively.

"Ugh." She proclaimed, looking aghast.

"C'mon, baby, you can do it. It's just like riding a bike," he coaxed ironically.

After wasting several precious minutes arguing with the stupid thing, she planted her foot on the pedal and managed to launch herself down the driveway without lowering herself to the seat.

"Suit yourself," repeated the backpack happily, "the view from down here is fucking delightful,"

"Pervert," muttered Alicia hatefully.

Keeping her legs straight was easy enough when the road was smooth, but as it got bumpier it got harder and harder to support herself without coming into contact with the seat. The constant stream of dirty talk didn't help, either, growing more enthusiastic every time the up and down brought her crotch closer to resting on the saddle.

"That's it gorgeous, a little further, you can do it..."

"Shut up," she growled, sweat beading on her forehead. Her arms were beginning to ache with the effort of holding the handlebars steady against the uneven terrain.

When a massive jolt brought her down hard on the seat, it made Alicia's nerves stand on end. She grunted in surprise, while the backpack gave a satisfied groan, muffled deeply in her crotch.

Once the artificial mouth started in on her pussy through the thin material of her shorts, Alicia couldn't summon the strength in her legs to lift herself back off of it.

"Uhhhmmm" she moaned, leaning heavily on the handlebars.

The approving stream of murmured filth became audible inside the helmet once more, but now she welcomed it, pressing herself firmly against the seat and struggling to continue pedaling. Every rock and bump ground her clit firmly against the enthusiastic saddle, and she was still less than halfway to class.

"Can't you go any faster?" She groaned, flesh aching.

"Al rescate," came the gravelly oath in her ear, and the bike transformed beneath her... to a motorbike.

"What the fuck," she demanded distractedly, looking down at the face that was now part of the gauges.

"You didn't say you could change into a motorcycle."

"You were being a bitch," he countered, unapologetic.

"I think I liked your mouth better when I was sitting on it," she muttered, arousal making her lower belly cramp.

"I bet you did," he agreed, "but I want to watch this part." His eyes fell appreciatively to her dangling breasts.

"Oh, nice for you," she ragged, eyes on the trail.

"I'll make it nice for you too, Bella," he told her, winking. The seat beneath her was some sort of memory gel, far more ridged and textured than its duty called for.

"Ooh," she crooned, settling firmly onto it. "It's about time I saw some of that money we spent on you," she muttered, pulling the throttle.

"Yeah, baby," he growled, "yank it, that's the way," he encouraged, eyes locked on her bouncing cleavage. She was beyond caring, the urgency of getting to class on time feeding the urgency of reaching her climax before she missed the chance. The ride was rough and raucous, jarring her sodden crotch against the peak of the seat so deeply she felt as if she was being penetrated to the limit of the fabric taught across her pussy.

The barrage of sensation at her core had her riding down the mountain with a reckless disregard for safety, so it seemed a miracle that she hadn't crashed by the time her orgasm crashed down, darkening her vision and making her hand slip weakly on the throttle. She let the bike slow and planted her feet, curling involuntarily to rest her forehead on the handlebar, humping the seat with reflexive urgency.

"Dios mio," grunted the motorbike, engine revving in chorus to her open-mouthed cries. She had to lock her knees to keep her trembling legs from crumpling beneath her.

"I have to get to class, now," she announced, wits scattered and breath coming in gasps.

***

When she got out of class there was an apologetic text from her mom and her jeep was parked where she'd left the motorbike. At dinner she was distracted, but the family assumed she was worried about her test.

"Do you know anything about the oranges in the shower?" Her mother asked, serving the plantains.

"Rodrigo probably stole one and ate it in there," she lied, blushing slightly.

"Whore!" Screamed the bird, taking offense.

"Aye!" Shouted her father, jumping up to go and scold the foul-mouthed bastard.

When her chores were done, Alicia excused herself, implying she'd been up late studying.

"Have you seen Diego's backpack anywhere?" She asked her mother casually.

"He left it by the door, why?" She asked, stacking clean plates.

"Oh, nothing. I think the software might need to be updated," she answered over her shoulder, holding the backpack in one hand as she closed her bedroom door.