Chapter 9: Tuesday & Thursday - Beachfront Bargaining
Last night's playtime had extended into the early morning hours, so launching into a fresh sex extravaganza at half-past-dawn took its toll on the humans among us. Afterwards I helped Auntie totter back upstairs with Daddy following close behind, Adele in his arms, to catnap all together again in his big bed. Or at least they dozed, although I had already learned how to sort of declutch my mind and coast along thought-free - which is pretty much the same thing, I guess.
And then we set to a hearty, if informal (that is to say bare-assed), breakfast - again with some exceptions. We had to prop up our Raggedy-Anne-addled Adele with pillows. Max had told me she could dine on cum, if it was pumped down her throat, and so Daddy had already served her a healthy gout of the stuff earlier this morning. But even at that, she still seemed a bit peckish. We tried spoon-feeding her with thin yogurt, but she ended up wearing it all, so Pop was detailed to give her second breakfast later. As for me, my hungers had become mostly sexual but I was still into flavors, so I had some strawberries. Also, Christie poured some maple syrup over her plump titties for me to lick off. Yum!
Well, things got a little messy, what with the yogurt and strawberries and syrup. I sorta even maybe started a food fight, which soon became a little hands on and personal - when Daddy finally called a time out to properly feed Adele, his now sticky 'n sweet man-sausage was all stiff and ready. The sight of his gentle insertion of this instrument down her throat, and of her recovering suction skills, inspired me and Auntie to climb right onto the table to taste one another more thoroughly. After putting several loads into my hungry friend, he circled around the table to deliver his ample leftovers to us.
After our bacchanal - this being Adele's word for it (seriously slurred), although Daddy said those probably involve less coffee and more wine - well, yeah, then we all had to have showers. Actually we shared our rain room - one of those big spaces with lots of nozzles and fog-misters and weather settings. It also has padded seats and benches, and safety grab-bars mounted at all levels so as to hold on tight. You know, like when you want to bend over and brace yourself with your ass high, or you need a place to put a leg up and wide. Or, say, you'd like to swing from the ceiling ... or maybe someone all limpish needs to be lashed up by the wrists, high enough that everyone can reach her pussy but she can't drown. Just saying.
Anyhow, after some excellent carnal romping, I simulated my own flush cycle by clamping my mouth onto one of the lower nozzles. That stopped the proceedings briefly while everyone else stared at the water spraying out of all my other holes. This turned out to be a bit disturbing - for Auntie, because she didn't even know about my cleaning regime, and for all of us on account of the strawberry-red, horror show fountains coming from my every orifice.
After that unfortunate distraction, we got back to business and, yet again, I lost track of the time. I had to yoink Christie's hand out of my snatch - with a torrent of apologies - and hustle off, all slippery wet, to make it to my room in time for my ten AM shutdown / 'nap'.
As I was dropping my backside onto the waiting probe, Christie popped in to tell me that Daddy had to go out to attend to some errands (he still had to work out some details for my funeral), but that she'd stick around to nurse Adele while I was off-line. I just hoped my drunken little master wouldn't be too shagged out to go to the mall when I got her back. But then my lusty aunt said she'd also get in touch with Maria, to see if our two sexy neighbors could join us for some evening entertainment.
Content, I settled my tired ass down onto the welcoming probe projecting from my chair, and relaxed as it slithered up to dock. A little buzz and then ...
* * *
"Whoa!"
"Sorry," said Adele. Her face had appeared just inches from mine, and she looked like shit - her hair was uncombed and her eyes were all red. "Um - what's your name?"
My probes were still retreating back into the chair, and my best attempt at an answer was, "Huh?"
"Please! What's your name?"
"Tracie. Tracie Ward. Around the house, anyway. I'm mostly Lacy in town. Why on earth...?"
"What was the name of your grade two teacher?"
"What?"
"I didn't meet you until we started grade nine together. Just now I had a look at your class photo, and I never saw this woman in my life. So - what was her name?"
"What the hell are you talking about? My grade two teacher was Mr. Thomas."
"Oh, thank Christ!"
"Adele - you're scaring me. I thought we were gonna go to the mall?"
She came over all teary at that, and said, "Don't worry - it's just that ... there's kinda been a ... we got a problem."
"Not helping ..."
"No, really, it'll be okay ... first, stand up."
"Okay. Um ... when did I get so tall?"
"Come on over to the mirror. They put me in charge of 'splaining everything."
Once there, it was the statuesque Adele-bot (AKA Greta) that looked back at me, in all her naked glory, with the reflection of Adele standing all sheepish alongside. For some reason, my pretty little mistress was wearing an old flannel shirt, which still managed to be sexy - largely because it was hanging open and she wasn't wearing anything else. Hornier than ever, I gazed down from my new height at the familiar constellation of freckles across the top of her firm little tits, and down across her soft belly to her red tuft of a bush that glistened with beads of cream and yet still failed to hide the line of white froth topping her drizzling pussy ... my mind thought, 'Got Spunk?' but my mouth said, "What the fuck have you been up to?" Although the answer was rather obvious.
She just shook her head, and looked pretty miserable for someone who had only just had her bells rung. At this point, I finally consulted my inner clock and found there was also a matter of two missing days.
"It was my fault," Adele said, with a sniffle. "Not this," she added, since I was still staring down at her moist man-muncher. "See, we went back to the mall, you and me, Tuesday afternoon, and I kinda got busy looking at clothes. Well, Geez, Max had fucked me most of the night, and then you and Richard and Christie took over for half the morning, and I only got a little nap while you were shut down. Anyways, I looked around and you were ... gone. I thought maybe you'd just gone looking for boys on your own. But I couldn't find you anywhere. Even if you'd popped a fuse or something, I was sure I'd be able to find you, but nadda." She was starting to cry plenty, now. "I wasted a whole hour before I called your dad. He came right away, but ... well, we're pretty sure you were stolen."
"Standing right here ... sort of," I pointed out, hefting a borrowed tit.
"Yeah, well, I talked Uncle Max into loaning Greta," - I noticed she was too embarrassed to mention the droid's 'Adele' personality, the one she actually preferred - "And we've booted her up with your backup files." She pointed back at my chair. "I was terrified it wouldn't work."
So were Greta and Adele-bot in my head along with Lacy? I couldn't sense them, so probably they'd both been deleted or overwritten or something, and were now backed up somewhere just like I'd been. I gave my snuffling friend and mistress a hug. "I feel fine. Really. And that was awfully nice of Max ..."
The hug must have cheered Adele up some, because she started to fondle my bum. "Well, he still gets the use of you Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays," she said. "Until the factory delivers a replacement copy of you."
A replacement me! Mind you, it wasn't a huge shock. After all, it was the second time in a week I'd woken up in a new body. So I spun around to admire my temporary self in the mirror. My borrowed hooters jiggled pleasantly for a while after I stopped, and I said, "Let's not be hasty about settling on my next design." Being shared with Max certainly didn't strike me as a difficulty, but ... "Didn't you say Lacy was, like, super expensive?"
Adele reddened. "Uncle Max is selling off his beachfront cottage in Oregon. He gets me Tuesdays and Thursdays."
Again, I saw no difficulty there, cottage aside. I doubted Adele would, either. It certainly helped explain the fresh cum on the inside of her thighs.
"But that's not the problem," she confirmed. "See ... the missing Lacy-bot unit is still you. There's another Tracie still out there."
Oh. Right. That was definitely sobering. There was now a droid somewhere that was identical to me - memory-wise, at least, and barring her last two days of experiences. She was me, but of course not me - if she never turned up in these parts again, she'd still lead her own life somewhere. She was more like an identical twin. Only more so - twins have the same body blueprint, but different minds. So did we, but only since last Tuesday. On the other hand ... "Um - what happens if we find her?"
"Everybody's been doing research. Max found out about a brothel in Havana that's got over a dozen PleasureDroid units, all different shapes and sizes. Some of them are ... seriously different. There's a couple with cocks where there clits ought to be, and apparently even one who has her pussy swapped with her mouth."
I goggled at this, and then started to laugh.
"What, already?"
"I just wondered how she'd whistle." As a test, I tried pushing some air out of my pussy and got a farting noise for my trouble.
"How she would whistle? You've become one weird puppy."
"No, no. I can do it! Listen ..." I managed to blat out something that vaguely resembled the Star Spangled Banner (but in a tasteful sort of way, of course).
Adele snickered in spite of herself. "Close. Actually, Max says she's got tongues both upstairs and down, but she talks from between her legs - where her regular shaped lips are. So, yeah, she prob'ly whistles from down there too." She shook her head, I thought maybe to clear that image - but then she flushed even more, right from her ruddy roots down to her hardening nipples, and said, "You know you got a PT69 toy, right?"
