Stories of Strange Queens

'Yeah, course.' Chelsea said. 'I'll do it first thing from the new random number protocol so she doesn't suspect it's us.'

'Thanks.' Jordan said, smiling. 'As much as I worry about her, something still tells me hearing me call might not be the best thing for her, even after all this time.'

'So I'll call Leila in the morning. Want me to call the others?' Chelsea asked.

'Just Phoebe if you wouldn't mind,' Jordan said. 'I'd like to call Jessica myself. I think she'd appreciate it.' A flashing memory of a dim hotel room flitted through Jordan's mind's eye, remembering a day one year, eleven months, two weeks and two days ago in which she'd woken up, alive and free, alone in a foreign bed alongside her newfound friends, her heart aching for her missing lover and her unbalanced sex drive still clouding her mind.

She could see herself sitting on the legs of a soft, lightly tanned woman, her fingers dancing at her slit in time to the beat of her heart, her body coming alive at her touch, her own pussy dampening as she pleasured another with a now long forgotten form of short term hypnosis. In the bed beside the freshly awoken Rachel and her intimately close companion, roused from her slumber by the sound of Rachel's gasps and Jordan's heavy breathing, a fire-headed woman awoke. A few minutes after the pair had finished and left the room, she'd sat up, wiped her eyes, and taken in her freedom for the first time in months on end, realising at last that the chastity cage in which she'd been a prisoner for so long was gone, and she was in a soft bed with no chains, no drugged mugs of cocco, and no dart-gun wielding captors.

She had been crying the tears of months of emotional stress and worry uncontrollably when Jordan had come back in, and this time, unlike the foggy lust that had overcome her with Rachel, Jordan had simply held the slender red head tight and soothed her. When you got that close to another person's deepest emotions, you formed a bond, Jordan thought to herself. Jessica deserved to hear Jordan's call, and Jordan wanted to be the one to ask her how she was.

'Alright then,' Chelsea said contentedly. 'Let's bake in the last of this sunlight, and make some food, hey?'

Jordan grinned, coming out of her revelry. 'Sounds like a plan. Wanna sleep up here tonight?'

'Hell yeah. These beds are the best!' Chelsea grinned.

'You know they're only rated for one person use, right? They're solitude chambers, they have them on the sides of cliffs and mountains all over the place at huge prices so people can pay to find nature's beauty,' Jordan said, raising an eyebrow. 'They're supposed to be separated from life at home.' Chelsea grinned even wider.

'Then they can be separate from the bedroom we normally fuck in here in our home,' she jibed. 'Besides, she's up here, remember? You think I don't know exactly how much weight those chambers can hold? It's like two ton!' Chelsea said. 'I could fuck an elephant on that glass floor and not crack it.'

Jordan's other eyebrow went up, and the rhetorical question joined the aforementioned elephant in the room with them. 'Oh shut the fuck up, shithead.' Chelsea said, throwing a pillow at her partner, who deflected it with her chest, posing powerfully.

'You can't defeat the almighty tits of Jord-breast-icon!' she said, pushing her bosom out firmly and planting her feet wide. Chelsea pretended to cower behind her remaining cushion, before having an idea. Quickly, she hid behind the rectangle of fabric and stuffing and hunched low as Jord-titty-con approached, her all-powerful knockers swinging. A moment later, the cushion burst aside and two round globes split apart by a great meaty chasm burst into view, aiming themselves at the gigantic attacking melons.

'Your tits are no match for the great Ass-5000!' the bare-back woman shouted, aiming herself at her enemy. Reeling in horror, Jordan grasped at her breasts as if trying to shield them from the presented backside of Chelsea the hero. With an over-dramatic scream and shriek of pain, she tore theatrically at her chest and fell to her knees before the bottom, defeated, deactivated, and most importantly, deflated. Then, the stunt over, just as Chelsea bent her head to glance between her own hanging mounds at her victory, she leaned in and planted a wet kiss right in the epicentre of the backside, atop a meaty mound that was also the epicentre of Chelsea. She yelped and sat upright, but Jordan licked again, grabbing the other girl's thighs and pushing her face into the gap.

Disadvantaged in her position kneeling on the couch, she took a few seconds to find her feet, all the while trying to step over and away from the lick-happy Jordan and disconnect her love-lips from Chelsea's. She managed it only after standing up and turning around awkwardly and after Jordan had gotten in several good tongue-dives. The kneeling dark-haired vixen grinned evilly up at her partner as she stepped back, one hand on her crotch in a vain attempt to protect it from further pillaging. 'Jord-tit-ular always wins in the end,' she winked at her. Laughing, she helped her lover to her feet, and they kissed, lovingly, fully. The kiss lingered, and they leaned in a little closer to kiss again, the twin pairs of breasts pushed together as hard nipple found hard nipple and soft lip was parted by rough, seeking tongue. After several moments longer, they stepped back, still holding hands from where they'd grasped earlier.

'I'll start on dinner,' Chelsea said. 'My turn.'

'I'll make that call and meet you back here in a minute.' Jordan replied, and they kissed once more before parting to attend to their tasks, Jordan taking the lift back down to where she'd left her mobile in the office, Chelsea across to the other side of the hyper-sized room to unpack some food and prepare their meal.

* * * * *

Several days passed by and the plans for the party were solidified. The date neared, and as October rolled around, the lovers began to prepare for their friends' arrivals, many of whom had never seen their superterranean lair. Over the course of several long days, the pair of naked women painstakingly went through all of Eliza Roberts' inventions in the lab, finished and only conceptualised alike, assisted by Chelsea's first-person memories from the late mind-scientist thanks to her accidental merging with her some years ago, the aftermath of which had seen the two girls perilously exposed to a dark, lawless underground world of mind dominating practises, slave trades empowered by chemical-barbiturates and chains and cuffs, and rich, invisible men descended of demi-gods with the power to enchant a person's mind unto their will with the help of a strange and irresistible ancient power.

Slowly but surely the pair found and sorted each item, assessing its applications and level of completion, and storing it away respectively. For a lot of the women joining them, many of these various mind control items - no matter how orgasmic - would be geared towards subduing and entrancing women so that Roberts could recruit them under her wing as a reprogrammed sex slave, a dangerous objective the girls no longer wanted to uphold and something they didn't want their friends, no matter how trustworthy, exposed to.

Glasses went into lockable boxes, draws of chemicals had their lengthy pin codes changed, and what was too big for lockbox storage was moved aside into the unused rooms attached to the lab's outer edge and locked away. Wheeled machines weaponised with upward-spiking appendages and various strap-on, wrap-around or sit-in instruments of blissful will erasure received a new home in the darkness of the storage rooms, and tables strewn with circuit boards, housings, paperwork and magnetic screw trays were pushed in with them.

More pin keys were entered, and, once again thanks to their biometric all-access-pass bodies, almost instantly forgotten. It was slow and sometimes tough work to sort through the erratic think pieces of another person's consciousness living on through another being, and many of her creations were simply built onto existing structures for simplicity and basic needs -- like one, a ring-like brainwave scanner, built with several tiny, extremely expensive paramagnetic ringlets capable not only of reading but influencing the subject's brainwaves on a singular and very precise basis, attached to the headrest of a rather luxurious non-mobile office chair - making them extremely difficult to manhandle into the rooms.

Days later saw, at last, the sprawling office-come-lab space of Eliza Roberts clean and risk-free, with the shelves, drawers and rooms at the back and sides of the floor now occupied with the neatly organised, but still accessible inventions. The floor looked far more open and empty without the almost homely sprawl of tables and machinery, and Jordan even went so far as to call it 'a car showroom without the cars.' The lab desktop - the digital, holographic desktop - was also cleaned up, in the event that a bender-bent Jordan or Chelsea came close enough to authenticate the door's locking system and allow an unintended person inside, and to finish off the job, Roberts' modified cleaning robots were released and allowed total freedom to clean and polish the floor without obstruction.

Similarly, too, the downstairs rooms were cleaned out. Over the course of a week, the pair of lovers meticulously cleaned and refreshed the slave quarters, changing unused sheets and checking food stocks, draining and running full clean cycles on all the pipework and scrubbing and disinfecting anything likely to come into contact with a body - which was a lot of things. Exercise equipment, chairs, sinks and showers, beds and floors and the special stashes of luxuriously well-featured sex toys in each set of drawers were either cleaned by hand or sent off to the building's cleaning systems. The doors, walls and cupboards were hosed down and cleaned of any possible germs, and the carpets were left to the mercy of the specialised cleaning bots, built intelligently by Roberts in conjunction with the furniture design so as to be able to clean almost the entire carpet without obstruction or needing the bolted-down furniture to be moved.

The storage rooms were pumped out and the building's internally-piped compressors aided the girls in blasting the dust from the multitude of shelves within, and they even uprooted many of the less satisfied plants in the hydroponics bay in favour of new seeds. The girls pumped more disinfectant into the air inside the long term containment bay and even went to the trouble of giving the tubes storing their old bodies a clean, each eerily silent and encased in the black electro-fabric skin of the cloning bed's main component. They made sure not to spend much time on the job as both women still felt uneasy at the mummified sight of their original-born bodies hanging suspended in the murky preservative, every identical feature visible like a perfect mould of their own currently in-use body.

Although she'd seen it time and time again, Jordan couldn't help touching herself gingerly as she gazed up between the gaping legs, bent arms and wide mouth of herself, her original her, black and still and frozen forever like a real life version of the carbonite block in which one famous sci-fi character was entombed. She could see every detail, from the inner skin of her pussy to the crease under her butt and the perk of her nipples. Every toe and finger and even her eyes, nose and ears were all there, so real she could feel the identicality reflected in her own features, the features of a body that was hers, and yet was not.

The activity floor was also cleaned - a lot of buckets, water, soap and elbow grease formed the brunt of the jobs here as, kitted out with everything from relaxation rooms to fitness equipment, specialised trainers, recreational activities, a small spa, grass course, office and even gaming lounge, it was simply not a job that would be effectively automated. The girls cleaned every seat and saddle, desk and step, and what they couldn't clean they ordered anew directly out of the 'secure' servers in the factories that built them. Completely underneath the noses of their companies, the machines built more parts just the same as usual, and as if it were just another import order, those parts were packaged up and sent on their way to the in-land mansion - or, where direct shipping was a bad idea, eg., when only orders of thousands and above were supported due to shipping container requirements, those orders were put through the receiver's systems instead and immediately dispatched off a surreptitious pre-paid back order. Several fresh bike saddles and chairs arrived through these methods for the girls even all the time, and many more used to come in greater frequency back when a multitude of horny women occupied the building.

Having completed the downstairs rooms, and spent a good two weeks doing it, when the girls came to the last room - the upstairs all-in-one tech-filled penthouse in which they mostly spent their relaxation time - their job was mostly done. A quick clean down, check over the security codes, and a fresh set of sheets, automatic pipe cleanout, and fresh air pump for the ceiling-hidden glass sleeping chambers, as well as fresh blankets and cushion covers for the living area on the other side saw the end of the task, and short of setting the automatic cleaning systems to wash out and sterilise the stairwells and lift shaft, they were done. The building's cleaning systems would handle the rest of the air purification, water treatment and disposal or conversion of the surprisingly minimal amount of waste produced on its own. Flopping back, boobs jiggling, arms flying apart, legs aching, the girls collapsed back on the couches inside the comfortably self-heating lounge area on the top floor and sighed. It was deep into Friday night and a cloudless sky outside mixed its stars with the lights of the city below.

'That's it. She's all clean.' Jordan moaned, lifting a leg up and down in an effort to stretch out an ache that her cleaning had given her.

The taller, thinner Chelsea huffed, and nodded a little. 'Yup.'

'Anything we missed?' Jordan added a few moments later. This time, Chelsea shook her head.

'Got the stairs.'

'Yep.'

'All the experiments in the lab are locked away.'

'Done.'

'The hospital and cells are all refreshed.'

'Down to the carpets. Bots are on that now, and the new mattresses come on Monday.'

'And the rec level...'

'And the spare cars in the basement were all sold off a while back, we only have the four now.'

Chelsea puffed out air through her lips and shrugged. 'Then that's it. I know every inch of the place, and everything we left is automatic.'

'Thank god for that, then,' Jordan said, sighing. 'If I had to clean any more huge fucking levels of this place I think I'd just pack up and leave.' Chelsea shrugged again, not entirely certain she disagreed, even if she did have all of Roberts' sentimental attachment to her personal private lair in her.

'Then we're ready for the girls.' She finished.

* * * * *

Moans filled the lab. In front of the wide open, uninterrupted view of an entire city sprawling out like a mechanical pancake, her palms pressed flat against the heated triple-thick glass, her hips bent to tautness to angle her wide open holes towards her most intimate of partners, Phoebe let her tits touch the glass and her cheek rest against it between the spread fingertips of her hands as she bucked and gasped, her breathing coming in ragged, rasping inhalations as she struggled to take one full breath between the violent and intensely pleasurable motions of Claudia's fucking. For her part, ramming her hips back and forth, a sleek and futuristic strapless dildo attached to both girl's love caves by way of an intricate double-sided suction chamber that served to seal them together and pressurise their insides, pulling their walls in tight around the internal phalluses and sucking their nerve endings closer to the surface of the skin, Claudia grunted, her dominating actions bringing her just as much pleasure as they were to Phoebe.

As she fucked the woman, two plug-like devices attached by short wires used small microprocessors to read the pressure and heat inside each woman's body by way of the dildo deep inside them and delivered perfectly synchronised pulses of vibration into their backsides, blending the sensations they were receiving into one blissful mess of multi-hole intercourse. Inside the suction-sealed cup attached to Phoebe there was already a pool of semi-transparent fluid building at what was, in her kneeling position, just above the top of her pussy, evidence of the orgasmic bliss she was engorged in.

In the opposite corner, buried in shadow, Rachel sat engorged in the fully-functional prototype Egg, missing its custom-made plastic housing and of course not wearing any headphones, the jack missing on this version of the device by way of it simply being a quick hardware addition later on and intended only for public units. The lack of the auditory stimulus didn't seem to be dampening the effects of the Egg's power, however, and frequently Rachel bucked and jerked, her bare breasts jolting about at her chest as the machine delivered her to another micro-controlled orgasm time and time again with seemingly no end in sight. She was bathed in sweat and her eyes had been closed for several minutes, but the large "O" formed by her lips and the frequency with which she would reach for her breasts to maul them or pull at the erect nipples at their peaks showed she wasn't experiencing a single negative sensation.

Stepping out of the gas-filled, waterbed-like sex room in the far left corner of the lab, her legs quivering a little as the shivers of a recent orgasm still lingered within her semi-drugged mind, Chelsea entered the lab proper to make sure that the girls were all happy, engaged, and most importantly, not accidentally accessing anything they weren't supposed to. Chelsea knew better than most the power some of Eliza Roberts' inventions could have over the unwary and knew that they'd far and away outdo anything these girls had been through during their horrible months in captivity.

Strolling around the room, she passed by the unlit rooms that housed experiments, unneeded magnetic tables, and items meticulously sorted and ready for the next invention. In the far corner, not far from the left edge of the hydraulic lift, Rachel sat inside the egg, completely oblivious to anything but the intense sensory bliss it was giving her. Grinning at her and watching as she began to jolt and shake for the trillionth time, she surreptitiously bent over the front edge of the device and twisted a small screw within the mechanical workings. Ordinarily, she kept that simple control set at about seventy percent - that was an extremely good time, but not enough to knock someone out or overload their senses - and the retail versions were controlled by software, not a hardware switch. But since her model was designed to help her test, it had this human-controlled sensor, and seeing how much of a good time Rachel was having, she decided she'd help her out and kick it up a little. Before she'd walked ten steps away, the woman was screaming out in utter joy as the newly unleashed machine went to work on her helpless body.

A few paces away, slumped against the wall, Chelsea found Kat, the golden-haired, golden-eyed girlfriend & wife of Rachel buried head-first between the legs of Amanda. Tall and thin and elegant, with shapely, curving hips that made her look like she had a fine ass even from the front and a thin, sensual waist that slipped any onlooker's gaze either up to her firm apple-ish breasts or down to her waistline, Amanda's face was the picture of relaxation and ecstasy. Her glassy stare bore into the top of the blonde's head and one hand lazily stroked her hair while the other held limply onto a small white spray bottle. As Chelsea approached, she saw the girl lazily lift the bottle up and angle it at the face of the woman at work between her thighs. Quickly, Chelsea stepped up and snatched the bottle from her, her unresisting arm simply dropping to her side now that it was no longer needed, content to go unused like all her muscles save for the ones between her legs, and being used to stroke Kat's head.