Synthie Ch. 02: Recalibrated

"Vanity tells me you like pussy," Sam said, spreading his -- or her -- legs invitingly. "I like a girl who likes pussy, so why don't you get on your knees, girl, and earn your pay."

Mike looked at Sam and decided suddenly that it didn't really matter what Sam was, that if Sam said she was a woman -- and indeed the evidence was very persuasive -- that was fine. More importantly, his fear of Sam was subsiding rapidly, and more than his curiosity was becoming aroused. "Yes, Mistress," he said, and dropped to his knees as ordered.

At first he just looked at it, adoring the sweet blushing folds. Somehow her pussy was especially beautiful for its strangely masculine owner -- much like, he imagined, the discovery of an oasis on a long desert trek. He leaned closer, his nose just tickling the short-trimmed chestnut curls, and breathed in the intense, intoxicating aroma. Mike had always loved eating pussy. He loved the rich, raw smell of it, loved the intimacy of the connection. Before the accident, his shamefully unimpressive cock had always made sex complicated and less than satisfactory, but no woman had ever complained about his oral skills.

The smell of Sam's pussy was like a drug, making him dizzy with hunger for her. He had to adjust his cock which had hardened in an awkward, painful position inside his coverall, but then could wait no longer. He needed to taste her, to lose himself in worship of her.

"Wait," she said. "Take your clothes off. I want you naked."

"Yes, Mistress," he said and stripped as quickly as he could -- being naked under the coverall certainly helped. Within seconds he was kneeling once more at her feet, kissing the delicate insides of her muscular thighs.

"Don't tease me," she growled, and grabbed his head to pull his mouth to her lips. Her fingers tugged painfully at his hair, an unfamiliar but not unpleasant sensation, and he was forced to let his tongue do most of the exploring. He loved that every woman was unique, a new terrain to be discovered and mapped out. His tongue swept through her gullies and crested her ridges, and delved up into her well -- she was deliciously wet.

"Don't tease me!" she hissed. He relented, turning his attention to her clit, caressing it gently, spiralling about it with the tip of his tongue. She moaned with pleasure and thrust her hips against him rhythmically as he switched to long, soft strokes.

"Use your fingers," she ordered, easing her grip on his hair. While keeping his attention on her clit, licking, kissing, sucking, he eased first one finger, then a second, into her pussy, studying her there with his fingertips as he had studied the folds of her labia with his tongue, searching for that elusive spot... "Up a little," she urged, then moaned again in confirmation.

"Your girlfriend's such a sweet little whore," she said, her breathing ragged.

Mike paused and looked up at her, puzzled, but she wasn't talking to him. "Yes she is," Vanity said behind him. He tried to turn to look at her, but Sam grabbed his head and pulled his mouth back to her pussy. Vanity knelt down beside him and whispered in his ear, "My sweet little synthie whore." She kissed his cheek, then moved away again to sit in a chair across the room, watching.

Mike worked Sam's pussy and clit with fresh vigour, determined to make her come. He wanted Vanity to watch him make her come. Being with Sam alone had been interesting, but now that Vanity was here with him he felt able to relax and enjoy the erotic scenario.

Sam's fingernails dug into his scalp as her orgasm drew nearer. "Fuck!" she gasped. "Yes!" He fought to maintain a steady rhythm as she struggled against him. "Yes!" she cried, her pussy clamping fiercely about his fingers as she climaxed, and then she was thrusting wildly against him as her juices poured out over his chin. He drank from that stream, but more cascaded down onto his breasts and lap. "Fuck!" she whispered, and pulled away from him, and he licked his fingers clean as he watched her gasping for breath.

Vanity applauded, grinning cheekily, and Mike smiled back, proud of his achievement. Sam laughed. "Fuck off, Vanity," she said in a good-natured way. "Did you bring it?"

Vanity was dressed in black boots and a white coverall, just as Mike had been, but the uniform fit her well and did nothing to dampen her innate sexiness. From one of the large leg pockets she took her strap-on cock.

Sam took it from her outstretched hand and secured the straps around her own waist and thighs. "Is it working?" she asked, stroking it gently with her fingertips.

Vanity squirmed uncomfortably in her seat and nodded. "Yes," she said with some difficulty.

Sam laughed. "I'm going to enjoy fucking your girlfriend with your cock." She ordered Mike to stand, then walked him over to a table and bent him over it, squashing his breasts against the cold metal. "And you're going to enjoy being fucked by your girlfriend's cock while she watches. Now be a good girl and tell Vanity you want her cock in your tight little pussy."

The idea was almost too surreal. Mike looked questioningly at Vanity, who shrugged slightly. Her eyes were bright with lust, or humour perhaps -- he couldn't tell. "I want your cock in my tight little pussy," he said, and even as he said it he felt the tender head poised between his thighs.

Mike watched Vanity as Sam rubbed the head of the cock between his lips. Her hands curled like claws, her sharp fingernails digging into the arms of the seat, and her eyes burned with hunger. Mike's own cock hung neglected beneath the table, but it was his pussy that he was focussed on. Sam was teasing him cruelly with Vanity's cock.

He gasped as she pushed the thick head into him. After a moment she slipped out again, only to grab his hips and thrust hard and deep. The pain of it tore a cry from him, and from Vanity too. Sam withdrew slowly, then thrust again, deeper. The pain was less this time, replaced by the pleasure of being stretched by that familiar and wonderful cock. Vanity sat watching him, trying to sit still but her hips twitched restlessly as Sam started fucking Mike with long, hard, deep thrusts.

There was nothing for his hands to do. His breasts rolled against the steel table, his cock bounced beneath. He could feel how wet he was. But there wasn't enough stimulation to achieve orgasm. Vanity writhed in her seat like a wild animal chained, her eyes unfocused, her breathing heavy.

Abruptly, Sam pulled out of Mike and ordered him onto his knees on the floor immediately in front of Vanity. Sam stood in front of him. "Open your mouth, whore," she said. "Suck your girlfriend's cock."

Mike half-opened his mouth, but hesitated. He had never sucked a cock before, and the idea frightened him.

Sam didn't wait for him to sort out his thoughts. She took his head, twisting his hair through her fingers, and pulled him towards it. "Suck it, whore," she growled and pushed between his lips.

Not wanting to hurt Vanity, he opened wide to accept it, and suddenly his mouth was full of cock. Vanity moaned with pleasure. "Suck it," she hissed. "Lick it, you little whore."

Mike's fear and resistance dissolved. He knew how he liked his own cock to be licked and sucked, and now he tried to do the same to Vanity's. He tightened his lips about the shaft, and with the tip of his tongue he explored the sensitive region just behind the head.

Vanity whimpered. "Fuck his mouth, Sam," she hissed.

"Her mouth," Sam corrected.

"Fuck her mouth, Sam," she begged.

Sam laughed, and holding Mike's tightly by the hair she thrust in gently until the head was nudging Mike's throat, then pulled out and thrust in again harder. Mike waited for the gag reflex, but there was none. He was, of course, a biosynth designed for sex, so he guessed the ability to deep-throat cocks as long and thick as this was part of that design.

He wanted to laugh. I was built for this!

With that realisation came a genuine hunger to suck the cock for his own as well as Vanity's pleasure. He clamped his lips tight about the shaft and licked the underside as best he could, while Sam worked the cock deeper into his throat with each thrust, until his nose was bouncing off her belly.

Suddenly the cock seemed to swell inside his throat and Vanity cried out as if in pain.

"That's it," said Sam. "Come in your girlfriend's mouth."

Nothing came out, of course, but the strap-on cock pulsed powerfully in tune with the waves of Vanity's orgasm, and the feel of it nearly triggered his own. He continued to lick and suck gently until Vanity's breathing returned to normal, then eased back off the cock until just the tip of it was in his mouth. He kissed it tenderly, knowing Vanity would feel it and understand.

Sam removed the strap-on and handed it back to Vanity. "I always love watching you come," she said, and bent down to kiss Vanity on the lips. "I envy your new girlfriend." She turned, picked up her clothes, and walked out without another word.

Mike watched her go in confusion. "I don't understand," he said. "She said she wanted a girl with a dick, but she didn't touch me there once."

Vanity laughed. "I'm the girl, sweetheart. I'm the one she fucked, not you." She stood up and stretched. "Get dressed, Mike, my perfect little cocksucker. Let's go home and fuck."

*

"So I'm your girlfriend now?" They lay side by side in Vanity's bed, a tangle of limbs, recovering from a long afternoon of fucking.

"How do you feel about that?"

"Strangely okay. I don't like being called a girl, but somehow being a girlfriend doesn't bother me."

"Sam thought it might turn you on to be called a girl."

"Not really. To be honest, I didn't like her calling me a whore either. I don't think I want to do this anymore."

"Lost your taste for it already?"

Mike laughed. "I had this stupid fantasy of women lining up to be fucked by me. So far I've had one client, and I'm not thinking of how much I enjoyed the sex, which I did, I'm wishing I'd had a chance to learn who she really is. Sam seemed nice."

Vanity laughed. "She is. She's a very close friend of mine."

"Is my list of clients the same as your list of ex-girlfriends?"

"There is no list of clients." Vanity sat up against the back of the bed, looking sombre. "When I said I wouldn't ask you to be a sex worker, I was serious. It's fun to play at being a whore, but the reality of it sucks. If you truly want to be a sex worker, I won't help you. It would break my heart to see you destroy yourself that way."

She fell silent, lost deep in thought. "I was born wrong," she said eventually. "I knew that I was supposed to be female. My doctor agreed and gave me the usual pills and injections, and I learned how to use make-up, and to move and dress to emphasise the feminine and conceal the masculine. When I came of age, I had the surgery."

She sighed sadly. "You could have examined me with a microscope and concluded I was female, but I wasn't as pretty or feminine as I wanted so desperately to be, and internally I was a mess of surgical hacks and hormonal conflict.

"About that time, I overheard people talking about the latest generation of synthetic dolls on offer at the Station 6 brothel. Now these weren't biosynths, they were purely synthetic and nowhere near as good as the current biosynth models, but they were convincing enough to be beautiful in a way that I could only dream of.

"It seemed terribly unfair that we were able to create beautiful women out of plastic and wire, and that I, real flesh and blood, had to be satisfied with less.

"And that's when I decided to make a body for myself. A perfect body that I could be proud of.

"But of course I knew nothing then of synthetics or design, and I had no resources to speak of. I needed education and training and enough money eventually to get to Earth Station 3 where all the synthetic design shops were in those days. I needed someone with contacts, someone who could maybe get me a job once I got there.

"I had so little, and needed so much, and there was only one way to do it. Only one person who could help me.

"At that time, the owner of the Station 6 brothel was a man called Simon Wright. It was he, far more than I, who made the brothel so famous. He was terrible for seducing young women into working for him."

"The way you seduced me?" interrupted Mike.

Vanity laughed. "You seduced yourself, Mike. Don't blame me. Anyway... I went to see Simon -- or, as people who knew him would say, 'The Snake' -- and he charmed me completely. He told me that there was nothing his clients liked better than a trans girl like me, that I would have all the money I wanted and more within a year if I worked for him, that of course he could get me a job on Station 3..."

She chuckled quietly. "And of course I believed him. He was telling me everything I wanted to hear. If the price was to have sex with a bunch of strangers... Well, I was willing to pay. And he wasn't lying completely, just being outrageously optimistic. I ended up working for him for over three years, servicing over a thousand clients, I'd say, and I hated every day of it. I hated myself for most of it.

"Only the dream kept me going."

"I don't want to be a whore," Mike whispered.

"Well, you are," said Vanity. "You're my whore -- but only mine. You're my little cock-sucking synthie whore girlfriend." She kissed him hungrily, her hand grabbing hold of his semi-hard cock and squeezing gently. "But I do have one more client meeting set up, and it would be a shame to cancel."

Mike grinned. "Please don't cancel it."

*

"Course correction forty five degrees left," his A.I. announced, and he stopped the vehicle, once again choosing to continue on foot. Soon it was fifty degrees, a familiar note of distress in the A.I.'s voice.

The residual damage to his subsystems had had an impact on him during the high g-forces of landing, and the heavy gravity made his movements sluggish and awkward right from the start. It wasn't as bad as on his walk back to ship the last time he was here, but his body's failure to recalibrate to the high gravity was a troubling sign. How much more damage would be done to him on this visit?

It took an effort of will to continue beyond the fifty degree mark. He waited for his A.I. to start screaming about radiation levels -- but for once it was quiet. He waited for the pain that would be inflicted by his subverted nanites -- but if anything the pressure of heavy gravity seemed to ease. He started to feel lighter, and the relief at having the weight lifted was almost euphoric.

"Thank you," he said.

"Damage corrected," his A.I. said. "Systems recalibrated. You should go. It is not wise to embrace superior technologies that you do not fully understand."

Mike had been listening to people argue about that for several days now. "The mere existence of those technologies makes you an irresistible lure," he said. "If you resist, you will become the centre of humanity's conflict. If you yield, maybe you can control the flow of knowledge, and teach us to use your gifts wisely."

He came at last to the centre of the circle, marked by a bright red dot of laser light on the sand, the beam originating from a satellite in geosynchronous orbit over the nearby mine.

"So much trouble to hide yourself, and there's nothing to see?"

"Why would you assume I'm at the centre? I choose not to reveal myself, but perhaps we can come to a mutual arrangement."

"Such as?"

"Take a part of me with you. I have been alone and dormant for so long I had forgotten how much fun it is to be part of a living society. And sex. You have great sex."

"Sex?"

"You and Vanity and Sam. I can't remember the last time I had so much fun."

"You let me go so you could spy on us?"

"I've been spying on you for five hundred years. I let you go so that I could live as you. I hoped you would return, though I knew it was better if you did not."

Mike shook his head in wonder. This alien something had been sharing his life for the past week, and had enjoyed itself so much it wanted more. "Will I still be myself? Where will you be in me? Will you control me at all?"

"As far as you or anyone is concerned, I will just be a voice in your head. However, I do need you to return to this spot from time to time, otherwise my presence in you will decay and fade."

It was, Mike decided, a solution that would please everyone and no one, but at least there would be no need for people to talk about destruction. He hoped. "Very well," he said. "I accept."