Roommate's X-Mas Present Ch. 03

"That's what I like to hear. Besides, if you wanna blame somebody for fucking with your hot body, blame 118 — she's the one who showed me how to do stuff like that."

"Is that a fact," she chuckled. "Then perhaps we should call her in. She should see her handiwork."

"Miles ahead of you."

The door opened and 118 walked into the room. She took one look at the mingling morass of limbs that Brian and 93 had created and her expression sank. Before she could say a word, VIXN-93 rose to her feet. 118's eyes went wide as she saw her superior's appearance.

"M-mom," she stammered, "your boobs are still pointy." Shame was writ large across her face, her muzzle dipping. She turned to leave Master and 93 to their sexual hi-jinks, but found she couldn't walk out.

"Got you," Brian said as 93 strolled over to her daughter-droid. Waving the phone around she soon got the message.

"That refresh has its upsides and downsides," 93 said flatly, "I hope my training is going to be more well-received from now on, but there's the little issue of your modesty protocols resetting to their defaults."

Brian sat back and observed. 93 circled 118, eyeing her up like a predator.

"I take it Master would appreciate 118 adjusting that particular quirk of her personality?"

Brian nodded, saying nothing about the success of 118's personality change. It had an effect. The cheeky, impetuous side of her had been dulled. Honed from outright bitchy to moderately mischievous. Some improvements stuck around, he thought, watching his two servants square off.

He didn't need to say a word. 93 knew what he wanted. Gracefully, she placed her hand on 118's neck, beginning a long stroke down her spine towards her petite butt. The blue-green vixen trembled. 93's sultry stare moved from the small of her back to their master's face, and she purred. "Master should show her what he's learned." She circled to the front and faced 118. "Thanks to you," came the dreadful whisper, drawing out strong pangs of anticipation.

Brian messed around on his phone, selecting the same options he'd thoroughly enjoyed subjecting 93 to. The curvier vixen stepped back, admiring the sight of her daughter-droid jerking upright — standing to firm attention, her modesty held intact by her flattened gel-patches. Slowly, and with great pleasure on behalf of her others, 118 felt an urge. Overwhelming. Unconquerable...she couldn't refuse it. The urge passed over her, ceding complete control to her master. She watched helplessly as Brian tapped his phone, her rigid stance dissolving into smooth motion. 118's feet spaced themselves, and her weight rested on one leg. A tilt of her waist and her ass formed a tight tush, cheeks firm. Her left arm visited her breasts whilst her right affixed itself to just above her hip. Her pose changed from solid to sexy. Rigid attention to relaxed allure. "Master..." she whimpered.

"He didn't say you could speak, dear daughter," VIXN-93 scolded, her eyes blazing with intense lust. Brian stoked her emotions with the app as he manipulated 118. Soon, the pain seething from her sensors vanished, and she was ready for round two.

118 whined as her body reacted to her master's command. Now, her breasts tingled, spikes of muffled pleasure droning in the corner of her mind. Fresh thoughts gathered strength — desire chief among them. Technically this version of 118 had never experienced anything like this. Pleasure of this kind gnawed a hole in her synthetic soul — a void that needed filling...desperately...

They emerged — the realistic shape of her erogenous zones. Breasts, nipples, pussy. In sequence they shaped themselves. Pert teardrops quaked as their gel-patches grew nubs of synth-flesh. The modesty cover between her legs parted, and a small slit developed. Thin, frayed lips of gel lined the outside of her vagina. In a matter of seconds 118 became a...woman...

93 took up position behind 118, propping up her body to face Brian. Removing his clothes, their master walked with erection bobbing, admiring his droids' figures. When close, he toyed with 118. Soft strokes grazed her skin. The rise and fall of her simulated breathing increased, growing with each tantalising touch. 118 sighed, her nerves building a store of sensation to capture the fleeting sparks of contact. His cock nestled at the edge of her 'V', wet with his own excitement. The first touch, flesh against fabrication, drew out her instinct to obey. "Master. Inside...I need—"

Brian refused to wait. In one push he split her open, 93 egging him on with her beautiful voice: "go, Master, make her first time special."

118 cried out. The advancing member thrust deep inside, spreading her lips wide around his shaft. This part was new to her. Aside from a handful of relevant memories she was a blank slate. Reformatted, ready to experience sex again. The sensation of the stimulation overcame her. Bliss ran in rivulets across her body, pulsing...everywhere. First as human, then machine, and now machine again — 118 saw glimpses of her true past; sights and sounds her conversion failed to strip away. The facade was gone, she was nothing but instinct now. Too primitive to understand the meaning of her visions. Too caught up in the moment to respond. Brian's tip settled at the far end of her vaginal canal, snug inside her oozing pussy.

"Fuck me Master! Fuck me!"

For once 118 was giving the orders. Brian huffed and pulled his hips back, ramming them forward as soon as he'd gathered his breath. 118 issued sweet moans as he impaled her. Heavy grunts came from Brian. Eyes shut. Pumping. Panting. The first drip of sweat falling from his brow to splash upon her pale carapace. 118's foot-paws bounced in the air, her legs angled to wrap around her master's waist. Suspended by 93, she sensed her shoulders squish against her breasts — the large mounds of her mother-droid flowing around her petite frame, spreading their plump comfort across her upper body. 93's joints strained as she held aloft 118, arms looping under the blue-green droid's and raising her with the motion of Brian's thrusting.

Brian enjoyed the fact her squeals came from something real. She wasn't playing innocent, this was as new to her as it was originally. Her personality had survived — no doubt familiar with her owner's antics — but nothing matched up with the raw feeling of domination, of conquering a virgin bombshell. He saw through half-closed eyes the roll of his thrusts, the quake of his pumping hips, in the ripple of motion that ran from her waist to her collar. Her breasts shaking — small cupped boobs dancing for his amusement. He was in love with the moment, the unthinking act of their copulation.

No worries. No bad memories. Nothing to concern himself with apart from the ecstasy of the instant, that tugged at his very essence, his soul sinking back into depravity.

"M-Master!"

"Aahh—118, I...you...feel...amazing..."

"Take her, Master," said 93, devouring the scene with glee, "she needs to feel your authority."

"Yes," Brian gasped, "I am your Master — I am in charge! Gah! Understand?"

"Y-y-yes!" 118 shrank from his gaze, tilted her head down and looked up at him with a coy expression. She loved every minute of it as much as he did. 93's encouragement no longer played the part of punishment, but acclaim. The senior servant sensed her own body's instincts kick in: her system readying itself for another round. She dismissed the idea, more than satisfied with Master Brian's demonstration earlier. Still, the unconscious segment of her mind trundled along, easing the rigidity of her flesh, relaxing muscles, and releasing her juices. Droplets of lubricant fell to the floor, dripping from her moist lips. She flexed her toes, the scrape of her plastic claws sending shivers down her spine. 118 shook atop her. Her junior was trapped in the throes of passion, her head thrown back, cradled only by 93's curvaceous build. Little lasted, neither quake nor quiver. 118's more rigid body didn't allow for the jiggle she and Brian adored. However, 118 felt it enough. Her softer spots did their best to echo the ripples of pleasure that flowed from Master's cock in her pussy.

"I'm close!" Brian declared, his words stuttering their way out of his mouth agape. He continued to thrust, his mind fixed on satisfying his lust. 118 jumped out of 93's arms suddenly, hooking onto Brian, clutching him close as he teetered off-balance. Steadying himself, Brian returned the favour, holding her tight as he bucked his hips. 118 was moving around a lot, squirming as her climax approached. He felt her seize up, her solid presence stiffening, locking them together. A short squeal that died before she could voice her end was all the warning she gave him.

"Eeaaahhh!!"

93 watched 118's back bend, arcing with frenetic energy. The blue-green highlights of her body waved around, and lights emanated from the seams between her polymer skin. 93 brought her hand to her lip, biting the tip of her finger as her own lust raged. No, she wouldn't be so greedy — not after 118 had exhausted Master. She could wait to cum again.

Brian felt the kick of the droid he carried, the squeeze of her pussy as it started to frantically milk him. A sharp pain spread from his shoulder — 118 had bit down. Unable to control the wave of pleasure. Not hard, and not drawing blood, Brian gasped anyway. "118," he mumbled, his chest tightening as she gripped him, "118...ah—!"

His penis spurted his warm seed into her depths. Brian stammered, jaw chattering, as the rush of orgasm took him as well. His knees turned to jelly. Brian stumbled with the weight of 118 bearing down on his front. 93 leapt into action, supporting him. The deep violet of her eyes blazed bright in the moody dark of the apartment. Brian looked around. How much time had passed? How much had been lost to the animal within? 93 grinned — fangs proudly on display. 118 managed to release her bite on him, and stare at the face of her master. Her god.

A careless step led to Brian and 118 separating. His cock slipped from her sinful embrace, jerking up and down. Spraying cum all over 118's belly, tits, and face. A surprised exclamation from the droid was her only answer to the coating of semen that quickly stuck to her bare body. Brian's shaft finished its attack, his reserves emptied. The human groaned as the last droplet of cum passed through him on its way to douse 118's angelic frame. 118 was caught off-guard too — the damp feel of his seed on her skin...the sensation of her fingers sweeping across her stomach, pads ploughing through the thick effluence. Bringing it to her mouth for a taste, tongue lapping greedily at the white treat.

Brian let his body relax, the tension built up over the course of carrying 118 dissipating.

"How was that?" he asked.

"Master...wow!"

"118 seems very pleased," 93 said, prodding her synthetic progeny, "gosh! I wonder if I would feel the same if I reset my mind. With this upgraded body. Oooh!" She set 118 down on the floor, who was by now too tired to muster the energy to stand.

"You wanna find out?"

93 paused and hummed. "No, I treasure my memories of us. I wouldn't give those away." Not after all I've done for you, Master. She smiled and turned away. Not after the sacrifices you've made for me!

Observing 93, Brian saw her body convulse — only slight, barely perceptible to his dazed and drained state — but it looked like she was suppressing a laugh. Figures, he told himself, she's not finished yet.

"93," he said. Her ear twitched as she glanced at him. "There's more left in me, y'know."

VIXN-93 gave him a seductive look. "Oh really?"

"Uh-huh." Brian walked around 118, busy cleaning herself and tasting her master's seed. "Don't think you can beat me like that, do you know how long we've been fucking? Sorry — administering your 'emotional support services'." He winked at her, lowering his gaze.

"Shall we—?" 93 was cut off by the swift placement of Brian's palm on her belly. "Shh," he whispered, "in a few minutes. First thing's first — I want you to do something for me."

She eyed his naked form, the glistening mask of sweat that formed a sheen on his skin. Stupid organics, she thought, making me obsess over their bodies. Well, Master's the one exception to that. She purred as he stroked her side.

"Just so we're in the clear, I think you should start backing yourself up too. 118 showed me how it worked. I would hate to lose my favourite robotic lover."

"Shush Master," 93 cooed, batting away his arm, "you love me no matter what. I adore you, always will."

"Wanna put it to the test then?"

"No dummy! I am not going to change a thing — there's enough done already." She twirled for effect, showing him her altered body as a reminder of prior devotion.

"Well for both our sakes, how 'bout keeping backups, hmm? Because according to 118, you two technically aren't under warranty since I got you."

"Yes," 93 sighed, looking past him to 118, a pang of regret clear in her otherwise chipper features, "it was stupid to forget about my own safety."

* * *

"There's so much stuff on this..."

Exploring the Droid Administration Interface he received from 118, Brian found himself lost in a sea of possibility. He mumbled to himself as he lay on the couch, up late after a night at the cinema. He did think about bringing the girls with him, one for each arm. Showing off. But the saner side of him said no. Don't be an idiot.

So he went on his own, which felt strange. Two-plus years served by beautiful droids left their mark, and the surreal sense of loneliness he felt while he was away from his apartment took its toll. Even his job had started to feel the same away. The prospect of turning into a hermit, banging his sexy robots all day moved ever more to the forefront of his mind. Fuck society, I just wanna fuck...

"Hey — what's this?"

Brian snapped out of his daze to discover he'd opened a new menu in the app. One he hadn't seen before. Oh shit, he realised, this is where their backups go!

True to his initial impression, what he now saw were indeed a series of backups of 118 and 93. More so 118, as 93 had only agreed to start her own recently. A green tick beside each listing explained to him that the data hadn't been corrupted. That's good, he hemmed, adjusting his position before his arm got numb.

After scrolling, however, one stood out. Under one of 118's entries a yellow triangle signalled a complication. Brian opened the submenu. Unable to make sense of the mess of text that scrawled across his screen, he tapped to exit. A message popped up, momentarily seizing control of the app, demanding he acknowledge it...

Attention: conversion parameters undefined. Please contact the manufacturer for guidelines on how to properly configure unit creation.

Sure, whatever...that ain't ominous. He double-checked the date of the entry. Though he couldn't pin down the day, it was in December. Of last year. The first known instance of 118 coming online. He went back into the entry. Sweat formed — dampening the nape of his neck, and splattering his shirt with dark spots. He tried to go back to ignorance. To turn his eyes away from the incredibly obvious. He failed.

Stop acting like a god-damned idiot Brian! Either wise up to what happened or STOP FUCKING THINKING ABOUT IT!!

The fretful Brian used the 'semantic search' option and typed in the name that had been haunting him.

Alice

The phone heated up as the app trawled through the swamp of data confounding his simple query. Brian shut his eyes, only squinting at the screen long after after it had finished processing.

String 'Alice' (14 matches found)

His grip faltered. The phone slipped from his hand, and struck the floor, causing a loud clatter. Reacting to the noise, Brian stepped back. Stop thinking...stop thinking...stop thinking...

Alice...

Can't ignore this any longer, can you? Finally given up the ghost, dickhead!?

"Urrgghh...nononono..."

No! That's not what went down! He cried in vain to stop the truth. Cried and screamed; the looming darkness crushing his spirit. Next, an awful notion crept into his head. If the truth was out, and there was no more denying it, no more lies, then he might also answer another question.

Yes! NO! I better check...just in case...not that I believe any of it...

Brian picked up his phone, opened VIXN-93's menu, and started searching. His thoughts tormented him. Fear latched onto his soul, corrupting his futile innocence.

Still a moron I see. We gotta work on that.

Berated by his own mind, Brian continued to ignore — or at least try to. White noise, fuzz, the snow on an old TV set. That's all it was.

What is it that you want, huh? You want proof? You want to know if that's really John!? Why the fuck would you need anything more than this!?

"I can't—I don't—"

What, after years of pretending, is typing his name into this program going to achieve? Hmm? You gonna reverse the process? Don't make me laugh!

"I—"

No — it's something else...you like this...

Brian put his phone down. His legs felt weak. He couldn't stand.

Admit it...you like what's happened...sick fuck...

I can't. I shouldn't, he protested, aware of his decaying mental state.

C'mon Brian, let the madness in. It's cold outside, there's no kind of—

"SHUT UP!!" He lurched back into the real word, the sound of his voice distant — echoey. He slammed a hand over his mouth, so tight he started to turn beet red. Starved of air, he tore his hand away, limbs flailing. He had nowhere to put them. He leaned dangerously to one side, his weight carrying him to the nearby table. Striking the hard corner he winced, pain shooting through his hip. Just what I need, he cursed.

Trying to take your mind off it, eh? Good luck.

Brian hit a chair, fortunate enough to angle his swing such that he could land on the seat. He sat and cradled his side. Head bowed in defeat. It was over. He held onto the fantasy for so long, but even he had a breaking point. The truth will out.

Aww fuck, here we go. Long time coming.

Alice and John. That's who they are now. Can't stop hearing their fucking names. Repeating. Over and over and—

In the solitude of his home, the emerging madness wreaked havoc. Up was down. Left was right. And the seething agony of the facts burned away his sanity — stripping his sense of self right off the cold hunk of metal that had become his heart. Empty. Hungry. Confused. Depressed. Regretful...no, a different emotion dwelled there. One he did not understand. It clashed with the otherwise-cheery nature of the festive season — the snow outside, the decorations, the carols. Outside bore the veneer of celebration. Inside tortured him with his passive acceptance of what had happened. The asshole, the pervert, the sadist who revelled in the idea of being served by intelligent life.

He stumbled from the table, knocking over furniture until he could reach the fridge. Bottles clacked together as he sought booze, liquor — enough to knock him unconscious. Enough to debase his mind so that he didn't hurt.

Drown it out!

He didn't give a shit if he couldn't hide it any more. He wanted it gone. He wanted the truth out of his head.

Drown it all out!

* * *

Drunkenness only worsened the intrusion. Brian rubbed his head, stress clouding him along with the mix of spirits he'd imbibed. His head throbbed. Mouth dry, he needed water.