Gulliver's Planet 4: The Continuing Adventures Of A Sex Doll (Part 1) free porn video

Gulliver's Planet 4 The Continuing Adventures of a Cyber Sex Doll Part 1 by [email protected] "Mmmmm," she cooed, all blushing and warm and melty and wanting. "He's entirely fuckable!" He smiled, brought up the price per profit chart and studied it, smiling absent-mindedly. "Yes, Amy, I'm sure he is." She pouted. "You might as well have said, 'Yes, Dear'." He chuckled, wiped the monitor, sipped his tea and thought about checking the nav-chart to see how many days out they were. It was on the pistolhead, of course, but he liked looking at the stars and the course so neatly plotting itself before him, its little yellow line darting across the abyss. Amy had changed the graphic to a squiggly sperm. He shook his head with a smile. She thought she was being funny. "Well 'Dear', you think all the people on deck are entirely fuckable." She whispered in his ear with a soft, insistent grin. "But this one really is. He's all broad in the chest and he has those man-hands that look like they might be strong with cruel fingers that leave bruises even when they don't mean to mmm." Alex flipped up the rove-cam, buzzing around the deck. The thing was the size of a flea so he could go anywhere and watch anyone without worry. He sighed. "Okay, which one?" She directed him to her newest conquest, a man with sandy blond bangs hanging in his green eyes. He had a little leather braid around his neck and a lovely matte of sandy blond chest hair. "I like them smooth- chested," he told her. "Oh, pooh," she complained, but he could sense her smile. Alex dissipated the desk and sauntered over to the large window in his helpless slinky way. Amy's eagerness was causing them to get aroused. He couldn't help the feelings running through him, the female sensation of a lioness in heat, thighs rubbing, pressing, tension in the tummy, nipples popping up in search of fingers or lips. He scolded her as sternly as he could manage, which was a feat in itself. "Stop that." She did a sexy little dance in his mind. "Make me." Suddenly, Alex's body was dancing, a sexy, slithering dance, tossing her hair over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of her blue eyes in the window, narrowed with need and lust. He chuckled, which came out as a giggle, Amy's giggle, before he found the will to put a stop to it. His Gulliver brand sex doll body was sexy beyond belief, dressed in a transparent robe with a tight bandeaux top and silk black thong bottoms, barely covering anything but covering just enough that he wanted to undress his own reflection and fuck it himself. Add Amy's insatiable libido and his intelligence and they were a creative sexual dynamo that only the high rollers could afford, except when she convinced him to do someone scrumptious just because he was scrumptious, and she had good taste. It added to her mystique. There were entire bandwidths devoted to fan fiction about her, entire movies and holos about some poor average slob being picked out by her and given the wildest night of his or her life. His male feelings only made his female desires worse. The need to fuck increased his need to be wholly and utterly used in any and every way possible. "What's wrong?" she breathed in his ear. "Let's go get'em," she panted, "get'em on top of us, get'em in us. Just think about his cruel fingers on our poor tender skin, yum." "Work before play." She pouted, sighed, and nodded reluctantly. Every now and then he could be budged. Every now and then, she could work him into a lather, pry him from his reports and paperwork. Today was not such a day. He remained firmly, frustratingly in control. His mind needed the logic, the math, the workout of statistics and reports. It needed to process information other than just sex if he was to stay healthy and not fall into depression. He felt her curl into a docile position in his mind, yawning. "Wake me when we're ready to do something useful." He smiled and imagined pulling the covers over her small form, covering her bare shoulder, tucking her in. "Another hour." "Mm-hmmm." Alex stood in his quarters, staring at the reflection of the Amy- chassis in which he'd found himself. He couldn't remember what it was like to be Alex Ames anymore. He'd been upgraded recently with new hardware, new software, custom programmed by Gulliver's personal staff. Written just for him to fit his unique situation, both male and female, both intelligent and autonomous and driven to please and satisfy the basest sexual lust. His sexy female android body took a deep breath. He saw the rise and fall of his luscious breasts, the stretch of his female stomach, his small hands on his soft hips, appearing utterly feminine. "Maybe," he thought to himself, "maybe a half hour." * * * With Amy clucking in his mind, he dressed. Short, shiny, subliminal, black latex skirt, running hard crunching through every language, every colloquialism for ass that existed in the known Universe, all appearing in simulated reflections, barely perceivable, but strangely effective. Opaque black light-stockings on his long, soft legs, helping to accentuate the shape of them, but not completely mask them, so much softer and shimmery than any organic or synthetic material. High, "fuck me" stilettos, tight slightly rouched Oriental corset, unsealed just enough to let her compressed breasts peek out of the top, sleeveless to let her bare arms draw attention. She'd gone blonde for the occasion with pink highlights, which seemed to appear and vanish depending on what angle they were viewed. She'd set her makeup to vixen. She was going to pick up her conquest downstairs and give his sandy blond bangs a tussle. Amy had good taste in men. He had made a few inquiries of the girls below, watched the dancers, flirted with the bartenders and waitresses, but the man hadn't bought anyone. No. He was waiting for her, even if he didn't know it yet. He set the large windows to transparent and looked out over the sea of hovering com-orbs, all red and blinking, one or two rushing into orbit around the galaxy class ship to do their business then rush home to float in the atmosphere above the deck. They blinked and winked like stars. "I need a quiet moment," he told Amy. She was quick to defend herself. "I'll be quiet." "I really need a moment," he warned. "Please don't put me to sleep. I'll sit in a corner and wait like a good girl." She crossed her lips with her fingers then crossed her heart. He smiled. Gulliver had ensured Alex had the ability to put Amy into dormancy whenever he chose. Sharing a mind and a body could be disconcerting. One might lose themselves or become so intermingled, so mixed that one's self-identity was in jeopardy. Alex suspected that he and Amy were already so interwoven that they could not unravel where one started and stopped, but it was good to have a quiet moment to be alone with his thoughts every now and then. Still, Amy hated being put to sleep. Though she was only programming (or so he was told), she had developed a few irrational fears, the fear of never waking up again and the fear of losing him forever. In a strange way, their intimacy, their laughter, their time spent whispering to each other in the dark had brought them to a kind of lover's embrace. He felt love for her, and she for him. "Okay, but one word and--" She saluted him in his mind and bounced on her toes. "Aye, aye, Cap'n Bligh!" He laughed. After all this time, she could still surprise him. He had the same e-brain that she did, but he had no idea where she had picked up that phrase. She slunk away into the dark recesses of their mind and he sighed and watched the com-orbs. He didn't really think anything. His mind was quiet. It was peaceful. The darkness of space with its twinkling stars. The running lights of the ship, the quiet thudding of the music down on deck, the blinking red orb-antennas hanging overhead like party lights. For a moment, he could've sworn they all blinked at once. Maybe a power surge? Then they began to twinkle and blink and brighten and dim, one by one. They blinked to ping the ship head every now and then, but they didn't usually blink this intensely. Maybe when they were rushing off to send the ship's messages to some passing freighter, strinalite, satellite or planet array. They each began to blink in time and then in patterns. Swirling patterns. He had to really stare at them to see to discern the pattern. After a long wait, they blinked in unison. He blinked and stared at them harder. He'd definitely seen that. Hadn't he? He lifted his hand to call the bridge to put in a request, but his hand never made it. He blinked again and watched them blink, in unison yet again, then in a chaotic blend of light-noise. He felt his face twist with confusion. They weren't supposed to do that. Were they? The more he stared, the more they erupted into light and dark, winking in an out, until their chaos began to settle into little ripples of patterns or maybe the patterns were there, but he was having difficulty finding them. They he had found the patterns and they were meaningful. He felt a strange burning and popping and twinkling and blinking of the circuits in his brain as he sought out the patterns, the ripples of blinking red light in the sea of hovering communication orbs. They dipped and raised and rippled as a whole. He blinked and felt very happy. They were so beautiful. He watched them dance. They were dancing for him. "They're... so... pretty," Amy cooed in his mind. They were pretty. Pretty, dancing red lights. Red. Lights. Off. On. Off-on-off. Ripples of On-off-on. Light. No light. Sea. Pretty. He blinked as the lights settled down, the patterns fading, the ripples growing stagnant. Amy smiled in his mind. "Shall we go?" Alex smiled at her. "Of course." They felt a little thrill at the echo of her stilettos clicking on the walkway. Out the cabin and into the elevator. Amy hummed to herself, trembling with excitement. "What do you think his cock looks like?" He chuckled. "I guess we'll find out." His whole body was electric with desire. It made him feel sexy and female, soft and sensual, causing his body to slink, his long legs rippling like rubber as they moved, his back arching in expectation, lifting his breasts, thrusting out his ass. He felt helpless to it once he gave in. It could not be cured until he had someone beautiful fucking him, every hole, any hole, kissing, touching, holding. He felt himself moan softly in his mind. Amy giggled. He watched his painted red fingernail press the button for the cargo bay. "I can't wait to get down on deck. Slow or fast?" Amy wondered. Alex grinned. Slow. "Let's let him find us." It was easy to do, make herself available, cross past him once or twice, usually once was enough. The blonde hair, the swirling little pink in his light- stockings could usually catch someone's attention. Then it was just a matter of getting lost in the crowd for a bit, then letting him catch sight of her again. Maybe with a smile, clear blue eyes that glittered, then a toss of the hair and a turn, away from him. He would chase her. When Amy was on the prowl , they always did. He stepped into the bay, smiled softly at the crewmen, a rough guy with a thick neck and pock marks in his cheeks, who stopped stunned and gawked at her, his eyes focused on her cleavage for a good ten minutes. He finally managed to tear his eyes away long enough to receive her flight plans. She stepped into the port-boat and gave her ass a little wriggle, just for him. In a few moments, they were free of the ship. Amy loved the catching, being caught, being trapped, getting to the fucking, but Alex loved the chase, the anticipation, the game play, the hide and seek, the wry grin. Her body would ask: Want something? And their bodies would respond: You. Only you. All of you. Every part of you. Then her body would continue the conversation: Hmm? Yes? Maybe I want you, too... maybe not. The port boat slipped free of the ship's gravity and began to spin a little. She sent her message to the great unknown and activated the bed. "I can't wait," Alex moaned. They slipped into the bed and activated hyper-sleep. "Mmm," Amy hummed, all squirmy and wanting. Then the blankness of unconsciousness found them, right after the thought struck him, "Wait... this isn't the deck. What are we--" * * * He awoke in a pod, not in a hypersleep chamber, confused. He sat up and felt instantly wrong. He blinked. He moaned and it sounded wrong. He rubbed his face and it felt wrong. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and it felt wrong. He smacked his lips together and coughed and it tasted wrong. On rubbery legs he stumbled to the bathroom, which lit itself for him. His motion brought the inner fluorescent walls to life. Before he even made it to a mirror, he saw what was wrong. "No." He was flat-chested with a matte of black hair straying down from the cloud on his chest to a thin line which led down to his pelvis. There, greeting him at full length, was his cock. "No no no no no no no no--" He'd been here once before, the sense of the surreal, the distrust of his eyes, the disbelieving of reality. Leaning heavily against a wall, he had the sinking sensation that it all had changed. Again. "Amy?" The sinking sensation became a panic, a bout of tears and then a depressing realization that he was alone. After years of having her giggle and cuddle and get him into mischief in his mind, having her creative sexy thoughts, nestle up to his ear and point out the delectable boys and girls she wanted to fuck, he was along with his own boring male thoughts, already exceedingly lonely in his own male body. Not just any male body. He recognized it. It was the old him. He was Alex Ames again. He tried to run a system check out of habit only to discover his suspicions were true: he was no longer a doll. There were no diagnostic, no code to activate, only the invisible chugging engine of a human brain and the rubbing of his joints and the bland sensations of his moist skin. He had clothing waiting for him. Shirts, pants, shoes, socks, underwear. He missed his soft, jiggling, pillowy breasts. He already missed his hips, his soft belly, his plump lips, his smooth face, his delicate fingers which looked so marvelously erotic spreading some beautiful girl open or wrapped around a stiff cock. The light outside the pod burned away his tears and made his head throb. He rubbed his face and felt the awful scrape of his unshaven cheek. This was all so very wrong. He could see traffic in the sky. He could see the vehicles streaming to and from a nearby city like blood vessels feeding a black tumor. He had no idea where he was. There was no communication ports. There were endless lines of pods behind him in the desert, strung out as far as his eye could see. He searched for an office of some type, an attendant, but most storage facilities were fully automated. Instead, he started the long walk into town and hoped he could catch a pedestrian transport. He hoped it was free, because without Amy's chassis, he didn't have any credits that he knew of. He thought about how it all had come to be. His drab, dreary life as an advertising executive, writing copy for media streams, implants and roaming holograms. How proud he had been as a young man to see his first concept bounce across the moon of Angar. How quickly it had all become routine. How he had lost interest in his job, in his life and had decided to take a vacation. A fateful vacation. Waking up in Amy's pleasure doll body, wandering into a transgrent community, logging in that first time and finding himself frozen while a tech locked his personality away, allowing the pleasure-doll personality to take hold. Being sold at auction, his new doll personality completely oblivious to it. Being smuggled aboard pirate ship until the captain found out. Seducing the captain, going along for the ride on a raid and getting caught. Being abandoned by the captain he had been programmed to adore helplessly, to love with a passion and devotion that could only be coded on organic software. Discovering to his shock that the real Alex Ames was alive and well and living his same dreary life, while two hundred copies of his personality had accidentally found their way into pleasure dolls, which violated every human-ethical law they had thought to create. Negotiating with Gulliver not to just continue as an employee, but to head up a brothel of his sister-dolls on a G-class pleasure cruise. After three hours of walking, his feet feeling utterly flattened by his own weight and hot from the sand, he made it into the outskirts of one of the towns which always surrounded a city this size--guppies feeding off a whale. He eyed a service light and flagged down a cab. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been in a taxi. He'd spent his life as a doll in full luxury, limousines, private cars to and from the clubs whenever they went on-world. The car landed and scanned him. The door dissipated long enough for him to push into the interior seat, which smelled suspiciously like a mix of urine and bleach. He'd forgotten what cabs smelled like; he wished he'd never remembered. He entered and discreetly checked his balance. It wasn't just a balance; it was wealth. But it wasn't Amy's wealth, the scanner did not recognize him as Amy. It knew him as Alex Ames. Had all of this been a dream? Had it all been a strange side effect of the vacation. Was he waking up from his vacation even now as the real Alex Ames? He'd never heard of such a strange ending before. It wasn't on any of the menus. He used his newfound wealth to travel to city center and check into a hotel. There he began to perform his research. Who was he? Where was he? Where was Amy? Had she ever truly existed? Days passed, then weeks. His boredom was only punctuated by his research and his futile attempts at returning to Gulliver. The real Alex Ames, he discovered, was alive and well in the same old city, doing the same old job, with the same boring profiles and business links. That meant he was not the real Alex Ames at all. He didn't pursue that line of thought any more. He knew it would come to a bad end. He had to be careful though, because he was using the real Alex's money to live. The creditors had probably already noticed, though nothing had come of it yet. Just in case his credit line was suddenly flagged or turned off, he looked for a job. They were plentiful, but not in the white collar fields. He ended up at a diner, pretending to cook mostly fully automated meals. It didn't pay well, but he could save his own credits while he lived on Alex's accounts. He found a cheap, dingy apartment in a cheap, half abandoned part of the city and only splurged on his informational access. He sent countless messages to the Gulliver corporation, but he never got anywhere. There were no callbacks and no ideas. He was convinced that everything he remembered had happened. He found the news articles to prove it. Alex Ames had filed suit against Gulliver. The courts had gotten involved, not only to settle the suit, but to investigate how a human personality had somehow been encoded into artificial software. There had been fines (which he later found had been quietly repealed). There had been enforcement articles and legislative articles. Gulliver had promised to put certain checks into place to ensure it never happened again. Whatever compromises they'd settled on for the existing offense had taken place off the books, behind the scenes. There were articles pushing for that very information, but eventually the whole thing faded from the public's desire to know. Finally, there was an article claiming that the Alex Ames personality was alive and well and co-existing with minimal discomfort on Gulliver real estate and would quietly live out the pre-programmed life expectancy of a normal human being. No talk about brothels, upgrades, and the continuation of a sexy little pleasure doll with a human mind far into what some people might consider an immortal life time. It had been almost six months, and he was heavy on the happy pills to keep him from committing suicide. His job, as menial as it was, gave him his only reprieve from boredom. He spent time in clubs, watching strippers, relying on the less than exemplary prostitutes that welfare paid for, and remained deep in thought every day about how to get back what he had lost, which was in his mind everything. That's when the apartment he had rented sealed him in and informed him he was under arrest. He sighed and logged into the home center, choosing law enforcement, following the prompts and finally choosing the link in bold red which said: "Why have I been arrested?" He called in sick to work, hoping they weren't effluent enough to have civil links in their employee database (otherwise he might not get paid). It took him the rest of the day to get to a police officer. The man pale, thin man looked him over. "Hm, that's weird. Are you Alex Ames?" Alex stared at him. He didn't really know how to answer that question. "Well?" the cop asked again. "It's... a long story." "Send it in." The cop knocked back a pill, craned his head back and tried to swallow. "Will you consent to a scan?" Alex shook his head. "Well, again, none of this is a result of my own actions. I'd like to claim victim status." "Okay, it'll take a couple of hours to get a warrant. You can claim victim if you want, but you have to use the prompts. Anyway, what I see is you're flagged for fraud and ID theft, so, you know, if you are you and not someone else claiming to be you, we'll need to do the scan." That was it. The pasty-faced officer disappeared and Alex was left trying to navigate the confusing prompts of the attorney defense system. Obviously, there was no LL system on this planet, which was too bad, because though it had its faults, it was miles above an antiquated system like this. In a few hours, the warrant came through and in a matter of seconds the truth was revealed. He was a clone. He was in violation of AE laws and was scheduled for termination. He sat down on his bed and waited for the tears to come, but they didn't. He only felt heavy and depressed. The room was locked down with artificial gravity. He could request suicide, but only after the mandated time period and it could only be assisted by the state. In three days, once his case had gone through the courts, he would cease to exist. He waited in silent terror for the worst. He frantically tried to call Gulliver again, but they weren't responding. He tried calling the real Alex Ames, but no response. His victim status had been denied. Clones aren't considered people and therefore could not be victims. Clones were illegal except for temporary recreation. He waited. He ate court-mandated meals, mused about his last meal, and masturbated almost hourly. He missed Amy. He missed the Gulliver cruise ship. At this point, he'd even have accepted with relish returning to his old dreary, ad-exec life. On the fateful day, at three in the afternoon, he awoke from a terrible, restless nap and stared at the walls of his apartment. The bars were missing. No neon red glow. No pulsing. No buzzing. He sprang from the bed and was busy logging in when a man broke the door down. "Follow me." Alex stood blinking for a full ten seconds before his feet finally got the message. He ran, as fast his flat feet would carry him. * * * There were no sirens. They took what Alex figured was a stolen vehicle. They went to a small spaceport on the edge of town. They filed flight plans and in a matter of an hour, he was in space, looking down on the small planet that had almost killed him. It was a small craft, which meant they were headed for a docked or orbiting ship somewhere. He looked over at the man, short and broad, a whitish scar that ran down his chin and just touched his collarbone. Hard looking, hard walking, with powerful legs and muscular arms. He was lean, but big. He was fit and then some, but Alex was willing to bet he had never been in a gym in his life. His lips were parted and he was smiling or grimacing, showing his teeth. "Who... who are you?" Alex wondered. He was probably a foot taller than him, but he felt like a child compared to the experience living in the man's eyes and face. The man turned and gazed at him hard. "It'll come to you." He pushed the boat faster and faster, out into space. "Although, I guess I've changed a lot since you last saw me." The boat pushed at a high speed into the pitch black emptiness of space, until it matched the speed and course of another port-boat set to coast. At this ridiculous speed, the man fiddled with the speed, pitch and yaw of the boat until the two crafts were running parallel to one another, a perfect match. Then, and Alex thought he'd never met anyone this crazy, the two boats dared to dock with one another. The man practically picked Alex up and tossed him through the lock into the other boat, following soon after. They disengaged the crafts and adjusted their course to let the planet- boat speed out into nowhere, while they coasted in another direction. It was then that Alex recognized him or at least recognized who the man had once been. "Hume," he said quietly, and the man turned and stared at him. The cabin boy from the pirate ship. Alex blinked and smiled. Amy had taught him how to fuck, though she'd called herself Holly then. She had been his first. He was all grown up, hard, lean and looking utterly fuckable. The soft, boyishness was gone, replaced by man. If only Amy were around. She'd trip him down on top of her and thank him for the rescue as only she could. Alex shook his head, blinking. "How--how did you know, that I--" Hume bowed his head in shame. "Because it's my fault you were there." He laughed. He wanted to call him "Baby" or "Sweety", but it felt out of place on his thin, male lips. "What do you mean?" Hume stared at her and saw something of the boy he'd once been. "I sent the code to Gulliver's antennas that programmed your doll brain to leave." Alex looked down at his flat chest and back up at Hume with anger. "Why would you--" Hume was quick to explain. "I didn't do that. I was just trying... to get her back. Someone got to you before I did. I've spent the last six months trying to track you down." Alex gazed out and spotted the old pirate ship. NATASAL was still printed in big bold call letters across the side. After a long moment, he said, "We have to find her." Hume nodded. They listened to the clunk and knocking of the port-boat docking. "That's the plan." * * * They talked long into the night. They talked about the ship, about Amy, always as a third person. It was an odd conversation. Captain Scoley was dead. Hume, the cabin boy, smarter than anyone else, had eventually rose to take his place. They had drifted, the little family of cutthroats, for a long time, until Hume began to plan schemes that actually worked. They hadn't become rich, but they'd done pretty well for themselves and his crew knew it. Except for the rare flogging, Captain Hume was far more generous and far less vicious than his predecessor. The search for Amy, however, was stalled. "I don't know where she is," Hume admitted. "They intercepted the boat before it reached its destination, which was where I was going to meet you." Alex knocked back his drink, which was like acid on his throat, and nodded. "Can't you follow an ion trail or something?" He laughed. "Space is big. I don't even know where they got to her. I've been watching all the markets, hoping someone would try to sell her, but they haven't. Not even a whisper." Alex thought about it. "Someone had to have had the technology to peel away all the human parts from a doll bio-board though. Who would know how to do that?" Hume explained. "It can be done. It's a matter of expense. It's very expensive, but once you have the equipment, it's not hard." He blew out a long breath, which smelled like smoke and liquor. "I'm up against the door on this. Nothing's coming or going. I have no idea where she is." Alex gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Sorry, but I have to know. Why did you do all this?" When the man looked up, Alex could see the boyish cabin-boy in his eyes again, the need, the hurt, the tears. "I love her. She... meant everything to me." "She's just a doll, Hume." "No," he refuted and shrugged off Alex's hand. "You know that's not true." Alex sighed. He was still stuck. Even if they found Amy and somehow got him back into her brain, Hume would never let them go. He was getting damn tired of being everyone's victim. Still, first things first. Gulliver would never consent to coding Alex back into one of his pleasure dolls again. It was far too illegal. Which meant, his only hope of getting back into Amy was sitting across him, scowling. He began to think seriously about how to find Amy. "What you did to me, Hume, is almost unforgivable. You don't know what it's like, to have all of that pleasure, to have that body and then lose it. They were going to execute me for being a male clone, and I'll be honest, I was going to let them. All I've been able to think about is how I used to feel being Amy, and being with her. You took all that away from me." Hume's blue eyes sought out his. He gazed at Alex unwavering. "I may have a solution." Alex stared at him as if he were crazy. Hume had mis-used the word "may". He "had" a solution, all right, and it was a Gulliver knock off. The Brady doll was still in her packaging, blonde ringlets cascading down from her head like a golden waterfall, settling around her neck, spilling over her shoulders, enormous breasts, tiny waist, small hands poised delicately as only female hands could. Alex breathed. "She's... gorgeous." Hume's eyes were filled with lust. "She's not Amy though. But she's yours if you want her." "Oh... I appreciate the thought, but I'm not sure I really want her. It's just too much of a reminder of what I lost." Hume turned and fixed his gaze on him. "Not for having. For being." Alex blinked. "What?" "At least until we get Amy back." Alex approached the blonde doll warily. "Are you saying--" "I told you it was a matter of expense. Well, I paid it. If you want to be her, you can be." He didn't say it, but Alex wondered if he was suggesting the blonde doll as an alternative to Amy. If he slipped into the blonde-doll's brain, opened his eyes as her (he trembled just thinking about it), would Hume still want to find Amy? If it were too pleasurable, would he? It felt almost like he was considering having an affair. "It's temporary," Hume reassured. He wanted to say no, he opened his mouth with the word "no" perched on his lips, getting pushed out by his tongue, but what came out was anything but no. * * * The technician at the console did not fill him with confidence, but he knew the rule of yes from his days as an advertising copy writer: get someone to half-heartedly say yes in their heart or mind and they'd buy almost anything you offered them. His heart wanted to be back home in Gulliver's perfect, petite pleasure doll, listening to Amy whisper dirty thoughts in his head, but this golden haired goddess would do until then. He lay on the table and felt his back aching with tension, his arms and legs restless. Blondie had been peeled out of her packaging and was lying beside him on the table like a fairy tale princess awaiting a kiss. The experience was far different than the travel bureaus that had started his whole adventure. Where they had clean, medicinal white walls with soft music, pretty blonde technicians rushing around setting you at ease and looking busy, Boris's dirty fingered MPU skills felt him feeling far less confident, and far less relaxed. He was actually eating a cruller and swilling coffee as his fingers swept through the air, lighting the processes. Fortunately, the process had the same effect on Alex. He fell asleep. It was a nice sleep, no dreams, but self aware, floating, feeling nice. Then he felt sensation in his fingers. He raised them and dropped them, drumming them, feeling the telltale sensation of long fingernails tapping the table. A soft pressure began in his ass as he became aware of the hardness of the table beneath it, the flattening and spreading of his cheeks leading up the natural arch of his back. His arms tingled and awoke. His legs buzzed and awoke. He felt his toes and his feet. He smacked his lips and swallowed, made a nervous, testing clearing of his throat, hearing a light voice, musical and soft. It was working. He was starting to feel all those "girl" sensations, the oversized hips, the pull of his soft breasts on his chest, and what a pull it was. He was already getting a feeling for how large they really were. If they looked large from the outside, they felt even larger. He managed to command his tiny hands to coral them together, feeling for a moment like his chest had been divided into two. His fingers accidentally brushed his nipples and at once a crude bolt of pleasure shot through him, vibrating through his being. He moaned as only a woman in pleasure could, and that's when he realized something else had finally woken up. It was soft, hot and he could already feel the cool air rushing across the wetness of it. When his long lashes finally fluttered open a moment later, he gasped then sighed and squirmed like a cat looking for a good ass scratching. The pleasure stretching his bright smile died instantly when he noticed Hume and Boris sweating over the MPU interface. He felt his perfect, smooth complexion ruined by the ripple in his forehead. "What's--" Oh, that sweet, sexy voice, so like a little girl, playful no matter what the intent. "What's going on?" Hume's eyes flashed over at her, filled with concern. "Nothing. Uh, just, don't move or anything!" Boris leaned forward and concentrated on the specs, little blue numbers swirling before his eyes then swirling away. "Oh, da, see problem. Da." Hume shook his head. "Okay, so...." Boris pointed. "See? Buffer? Didn't think about xp. Big xp. Da. All make sense now." Hume stared at him for a good half minute before his eyes flashed with understanding. The comprehension coursed through him, top to bottom, turning his face white, then making his entire body sag. "Shit." "Wh-what?" Alex tried to ask, but it was hard to control the tone. It sounded less like a question and more like a plea for a good fucking. Hume couldn't meet her eyes. "Boris didn't take into account buffer expansion. We--he thought there was plenty of room for all the modules of your personality. It turns out, unlike Gulliver dolls, the KA buffers are really large but also reserved. The dolls need all that room to learn and grow. There isn't enough room for all of your personality." Alex felt his long eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings in the air. "But--I feel fine." Boris pointed a thick finger at him. "You still on MPU!" Hume explained. "Because you're still connected to the computer. The second you unlog though, most of you will disconnect." "What do you mean 'disconnect'?" Alex asked in a panic. He felt like crying, felt his face twist with tears, but there were no tears. Only Gulliver had perfected the effect. Hume pressed his lips together as he placed his giant hand in her small hand. Alex was acutely aware of how her delicate tiny fingers were swallowed whole by his warm grasp. "Don't worry. You won't be erased or anything. As long as you stay logged in, you'll be all there, but if you log out, then there won't be much of you left in the doll, but as soon as you log back in you'll get it all back." Alex's large blue doll eyes gazed up at Hume, helplessly soulful and helplessly sweet; the doll's programming was strong enough even now to decide how his inner thoughts would express themselves. "How much of my personality will fit?" Hume turned a lighter shade of pale. He turned away as if to blame Boris. "About a quarter. But we can play with that. We just need to pick the right part of your personality to keep loaded to maximize the extent of your control." Alex shook his doll head, feeling his long blonde curls tickling his bare shoulders and neck and soft cheeks. He raised a delicate hand and swept them away. "As long as I stay logged in, I'm me, but if I leave this room--" Boris mused with a calculating hum. "Hm, maybe 50/50 doll program and you?" Alex tried to scowl at them, but the doll's pretty face just didn't work that way. There was nothing in the cellular mechanics that permitted the muscles to "scowl". Instead, he managed a sexy frown, a pout with wet, glistening lips and big sad, puppy-dog blue eyes. "Put me back in my body then." It was the most logical thing to do, but when neither man made a move, Alex knew it was worse than he feared. "What?" Hume looked at Boris. Boris looked at Hume. The silent decision was made to have Hume explain. "It was a clone body. It was constructed solely to hold your personality modules. The second we transferred them out, the body shut down." Alex blinked and felt his long eyelashes waving in the air. "Wh-what?" Boris leaned over and said crudely. "Body dead!" * * * She stayed in her little room. It was not unlike being a doll in a box. She stayed and she stayed and she stayed. She sat. She stood. She had fun with the limited selection of dresses, skirts, heels and tops she had. The doll didn't have many makeup kits programmed into it, but she found she could mix and match. She was bored. Alex was bored. Doll's didn't get bored, but the program of the doll running in the background of his mind was nagging away, subtle, quiet and insistent. 'Have fun. Find something to put in your mouth. Would you like to play with you boobies? Would you like to show someone your cute new look? Wouldn't you like someone to see how cute your ass looks in that dress?' It was like a food craving; the body wanted what the body wanted. Still, he had a handle on it. This wasn't his first time in a doll. He knew programming when he felt it and this doll's program wasn't as clever as Gulliver's code. It was a little harsh actually, less of a whisper and more of a jerk. While he was researching his capabilities in the MPU (since most of his personality was stored there), he came across the records of acquisition for the B-Doll. His hand jerked up to his mouth with his red fingernail fitted neatly between his teeth, his lips pouting slightly to accommodate his finger. He caught it, of course, the forced mannerism, and though he could pull his finger away, if he looked at the record again, his hand would jerk right back up into position. He caught himself sweeping his hair away, shaking his head to let the curls of his hair catch the light, to draw attention to it, to propel the light scent of it into the room. The mannerisms were occurring with more and more frequency. Leaning forward and looking at the read-outs, his breasts pressing together, jiggling slightly, he would occasionally catch sight of his reflection. It was startling to see himself, his doll complexion, bright blue eyes, puffy pink glistening lips. He decided not to fight the littls thing. If he erupted in errant giggles, so be it. Amy certainly did the same, but hers sounded more... authentic. The B-doll program sounded so fake, so... stupid. He wandered through the MPU, his doll body pacing, sauntering, loosening and lubricating its joint hardware, which could only be done by through exaggeration, arms swinging loosely, wrists bending, hips swaying in an overtly sexualized fashion. The brain of the ship was open to him, though Hume had warned he was not to go near the navigation. It was easy to spot; it was like a virtual electric fence with sparking razor wire wrapped around the top. It was easy to avoid. He went through the library, tried to keep himself entertained while his doll body stretched on its own, performing some kind of strange yoga which felt more like pin-up poses than anything mechanical, back always arched, nipples always reaching, ass always out for show. By the time he got bored of MPU-space, the doll had been in control for a full hour and a half, and had made good use of it. Dressed in a skirt so short her panties flashed with each step, the soft sheen of speckled hose comforting her legs, a tight top with long sleeves which left her shoulders bare and most of her back all the way down to the dimples above her ass, she had applied her makeup heavily but professionally. Alex caught site of his doll self in a mirror and smirked. "Going somewhere?" The doll did not respond, but while Alex admired the body, the high, fuck-me heels, he had to admit, though it was not Gulliver class AI, it was a pretty good knock off. If only they had done a better job coding the software. He lapsed into thought, pondering the whereabouts of Amy. Space was big, too big to find someone outside of the networks, but even the networks were nearly infinite. He could spend the rest of his life looking for her and never even get close. When he blinked his eyes and came out of his daydream, the doll was standing before the open door. The programming was urging it forward. He hauled it back. "No, we won't be doing that." But he hadn't been paying attention, and the program had set up a thrill response. It was all about that open door, what a thrill to step outside, to log out, to let the doll do what dolls do. He hesitated. He shouldn't. He wouldn't. He didn't want to. He hesitated and thought about it, lapsed into consideration again, and the moment he let go of control, the moment he stopped thinking about what he wanted his doll body to do, the program ran and kicked the doll forward. It was like knowing you were going to drop something, telling your body not to, commanding your hands to grip while watching the object fall through your fumbling fingers and crash onto the floor. He thought, "no", but the doll body was already in motion, and in another moment he was out in the corridor. His connection was severed, and slowly he began to lose his sense of himself as he'd always known it. He felt the separation, the division. He still knew who he was and what had happened, but he felt a little simpler now. He felt... childlike, curious, happy, excited. The doll giggled in its fake, overtly sexual fashion and teetered down the hallway on its high heels. He was going to say something, but he couldn't remember what it was. Oh, well, how important could it have been? The ship was smelly. Mm, somewhere he got a little smell of sweat in his nose that made parts of him tickle. He smiled and giggled and felt different parts of himself jiggle at different times. It was a miracle of movement that only a large- breasted woman could perform. He thought he should probably head back to the... um.... Oh, well. A door slid open and there were about, um, he couldn't count exactly, but a bunch of men. He felt all melty then. A rush went through him as he took them all in. Men. Dark and brooding, dirty and smelly and wonderful. Hard men. Muscles. Strong hands. The thought actually ran through her pretty little head as she smiled and shook her hair for them. "Mmm... MEN!" The door closed behind her and she felt a little thrill at being trapped. Oh, she hoped the door had locked. Click-clack. Stuck! She giggled. The men's eyes bore into her, drilled into her, penetrated her, examining the roundness of her perfect breasts forced into a small bra, spilling over her low-cut top. Their eyes followed her curves down her waist, over her wide hips. As she walked, they watched like hungry wolves, studying her legs, her heels, the way it forced her to teeter slightly, off balance, but perfectly aligned, breasts and ass out, back arched, all of her best parts ready for action. They watched her for a long time before one of them had guts enough to approach her. It was all downhill from there. (to be continued) * * * @Hume was fuming. Alex laid on the table, only half aware of his doll body; most of him was busy working in the MPU. It was so odd being split this way, but he learned he could do it, be logical or be intuitive, be mathematical or be emotional, just by choosing which personality modules to load. Having his attention away from his doll body was safe for another twenty minutes. She was going through her cleaning cycle again, and again, and again. She was still only at ninety-two percent. She had waddled back into the room covered in male sweat, spilled alcohol and semen. The latter had somehow flung its way into parts of her that seemed impossible, on the interior of her nostrils, in her ears; the stuff was everywhere. Hume paced back and forth, not saying a word. The doll had gone through one cleaning cycle after another and was still finding dried flakes of who knew what in every nook and cranny. Alex was busy searching the streams for a way to find Amy. "What--" Hume started to yell, then got a hold of his self and spoke quietly, though barely restrained. "What am I going to do with you?" The doll's programming kicked in before Alex could stop it. She hunched her shoulders together, poked a finger into her mouth and shook her head, looking worried, her voice extra-childlike. "I sowwy. Have I been naughty?" Hume turned on her, red-faced. "What?" Alex had discovered the doll's manual and noted on several forums that once a Brady-class Pleasure Doll had been used, it hardly ever got back to one hundred percent. It had a short shelf-life, unlike the Gulliver dolls. He sighed and inserted himself back into his doll body again. He sat up, swung his legs over the side of the table and shook her head, hyper aware of the mass of curls tickling her shoulders and back. "Sorry, the doll program gets away from me sometimes." Hume stood before him, growling. "No shit." He looked up at the young captain and blinked his pretty blue eyes. Like it or not, it had the desired effect. Hume was fighting to keep a hold of his anger, but it was hard to do when a sex doll gazed at you all wide-eyed and innocent. "What's going on?" Hume stormed away, stopped in front of the panels, turned them transparent and looked out at the passing stars. "What is going on is I've been breaking up fights for the last three weeks, and every single damn one of them is about you. And twice now the swing shifts in the engine rooms have been late by over an hour. They all have hangovers!" Alex hopped off the table and wrapped her robe tightly around his shoulders. He shook her head. Pronoun trouble again. In the MPU it was easy to get a hold on himself, keep his identity, but when he was deep in the soft skin of the doll, breasts jiggling, hips in the way, walking the way she did, it was easy to lose all sense of maleness. The doll's programming made sure of it. He'd given up trying to fight it. "And?" "And," Hume continued through gritted teeth, "it's because they're up all hours of the night fucking you, using you as their poke prize, beating the shit out of each other because one of them didn't get their turn. Dammit!" "The only way to stop it is to either lock me in or get me out of this damn body." Hume's face colored, swirling from hot red to pasty white. "Well... I can't lock you away. The men would riot, and I haven't figured out a way to...." He was on the verge of an apology. Alex decided to rub it in. He brought his doll body close, let her scent work its magic, gazed up at him with big, blue eyes and blinked sadly. Hume looked down at her and swallowed, his eyes drifting more than once down into her cleavage, watching her soft, round breasts rise and fall with each breath. "This is your fault, Sweety." Her small, young voice was soft and sweet. She placed her hands on his chest, felt the broadness of him, fiddled with the buttons of his shirt and was about to push her hands inside to feel the warmth of his flesh. She wondered if he had a hairy chest. She moaned just thinking about it. Hume caught her by the wrists, his hands wrapping around them completely, fingers overlapping thumbs, making her feel weak, which made her body squirm with even more pleasure. Alex was again having difficulty separating the doll programming from his own mind. Parts of him in the MPU worried about whether he was bisexual or was there even such a thing anymore? He'd been in pleasure dolls so long, so in love with every woman, every man and all their sameness and all their differences, that it was hard not just to want them all. Even in Amy he'd wondered if he was a nymphomaniac or just in love with bodies of every shape and size. Hume pushed her away and retreated. "I told you that was an accident." The analytical part of Alex, the part of him still taking up space in the MPU, wondered about it. Of all the men in the ship, Hume was the only one that didn't play with her. Interesting. Maybe he really was in love with Amy. "It was your little hypno-trick that brought Amy out here, and then you promptly lost her, and you haven't figured out a way to find her again." Hume headed toward the door. "I'm working on it. In the meantime, we're running out of funds. I have a job lined up. After that, we'll figure something out." He was halfway out the door before he heard her words. " I already have." He turned and marched back in, stopping a few feet inside the door. It was obvious he didn't want to look at her. He was turned on by her as a man, but resisting the temptation. Some part of Alex noted it for future reference, maybe even to tell Amy about it and see what she thought. "What do you mean?" he asked. "First," her cheery little voice said, "you have to tell me the truth so I know if my theory is correct." He nodded. "The truth about what?" She whispered. "Did you kill Captain Scoley?" Captain Scoley. She had come to hate him or Amy had come to hate him or Alex had or all of them. He'd been the captain of the pirate ship. He'd been surly and unpleasant. He'd been an ugly man who ruled his crew through fear and abuse. He'd taken Amy for his own as soon as he'd found the crew had smuggled her on board. But that wasn't the worst of it. The worst of it was he'd gone out of his way to install the Gulliver "Mate" program, forcing Amy to fall hopelessly in love with him, to adore him, to live for him, to worship him, and then he'd abandoned her. She still remembered crying out for him, desperate, pleading, her feet trapped while security rushed toward them. All the men had been running back to the ship, escaping. Captain Scoley had turned back and eyed her for less than a second before making the decision that she wasn't worth it. He'd left her. It was an easy decision for him. But not for her. Hume turned white. "What--what makes you say that?" "The Law of Residuals. No data gets completely wiped. Ever." He shook his head. "I've heard of it. So what?" "So, there's fragments of data in here, in the doll. You tried to erase it, but not everything got deleted. Normally, it wouldn't mean anything, but the intuitive part of a human mind is designed to speculate based on incomplete information. I think you used this doll as bait and killed him in front of her." A doll's voice sounding so intelligent was more than a little off- putting. It was downright strange. "Go on." There was a cold, dead tone in Hume's voice that worried Alex. "So, I have no love for him and if you killed him then he deserved to die, and I can help you erase the doll's memory more completely so that no one will ever know, but for now, I need to know if it's the truth." Hume's eyes were vacant. "Why?" "Because if it's true, I know how to find Amy." Hume looked around the room. He swallowed and swallowed again. Without saying a word, he looked at her and nodded. He hadn't just committed mutiny. He'd done it pirate-style. On some planet far from the security cams of the ship, he had killed the old space-dog and hadn't looked back. Alex sighed. "Okay then." "Tell me how to find Amy and then we erase the doll's memory." It was matter of fact and came with a threat attached. He didn't say it, but Alex felt it. We erase her memory... or we erase you. He could do it, too. Just tell the MPU to delete a certain range of cells and Alex would be no more. Alex was gambling that he wouldn't, but he was remaining cautious. He liked Hume, but he didn't know him. He knew the boy he'd once been, but not the man he'd had to become, ruthless, strong, commanding. Hume opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. "You tried to erase her already and you did a good job, but it wasn't enough. So, even if someone tried to erase me from Amy's doll mind, there are parts of me still lingering in her. Parts of me that are her memories of me and those would be impossible to separate completely." "Okay. Let's say that's true. So what?" Hume sat down in a chair, crossed his legs, placed his arms on the arms of the chair and pressed his fingertips together, thinking. "So the human part of me had routines. I've been going through them, thinking of all the habits I had when I was inside her and one of them could lead us to her. Every morning, no matter what, I tuned into Rundberg Johnson." Hume squinted his face as if he'd bit into something sour. "That weirdo?" Alex laughed. "Yes, I liked him. He was interesting, always talking about who he'd talked to off-stream, celebrities, dictators, politicians, but never with any proof. It was a big parody. He was funny. A talk show host who never talked to anyone, but was always promising some amazing guest. That was the running joke. And every show he had an excuse for why the amazing guest couldn't make it." Hume shook his head and groaned. "Anyway, my point is that I listened without fail to him every day. There is a chance that Amy still does, out of habit, maybe even because it reminds her of me, even if she can't remember me." Hume stood and paced. "You're talking about trying to analyze stream traffic? Billions of billions of light signals. It's a needle in a haystack." "But," I added, "Rundberg only comes on once a day and we know when, and I know Amy's SP." He paused in his pacing. "So, it's a slightly bigger needle in a slightly smaller haystack." "We don't have to analyze the outgoing streams. We only have to catch the incoming at a light repeater, strinalite or a broadcasting station. Not many people know this, but when you tune into a stream, most gear will send an ID response, a little ping, giving advertisers and stream owners information about you. They want to know who is listening and where. Most private gear has this turned off, but even if you turn it off in an A.I., it stays active. You can't turn on it off, not really, no matter what the manufacturers say." Hume shook his head. "We're better off watching the market." Alex approached him again. He stiffened, but relented as she slid her arms around his neck, capturing his attention. "They're not going to sell her, Hume. They would've already done it." He gently unwrapped her arms from his neck and moved away from her. After a long silence, he said, "It would take almost of the MPU to find a packet in all that data." "At a broadcasting station, yes, but not at a strinalite. Unfortunately, she could be pinging from any direction in space and we might never find which strinalite it hits unless we're lucky." He nodded. "We have to hit a broadcasting station then." She smiled and let her blue eyes sparkle. "Yes, Captain." He turned and blushed. "Don't say it like that." She wet her lips and eyed him innocently. "Why, whatever do you mean?" He grinned and retreated a step. "First, we have a job to do." A "job" in pirate-speak meant "crime". * * * Hume was running 70/30. Alex knew this because the pirate captain himself had analyzed his own success rate. He was smart. He was lucky. He aborted operations where things started to go bad. He who steals and runs away lives to steal another day. He had made some big scores, but lost out on some as well. Alex analyzed his latest idea. On the half planet of Dezerankini, half liquid metal construct, half organic, there was a region with a high banking flow, a gambling zone where the money flowed freely but securely. Still, it was a banking region and not a mob region, which meant cost cutting. Hume had pulled into port and dressed his crew up to look like the typical riff raff. His crew of one hundred would insert malicious code at credit machines at key locations. The security measures would flow out to address the attacks while Hume went into town center, the auction house, and found one of the machine with a direct connection to the credit stream. Once the security measures were busy, he would quietly insert enough code to divert enough currency to a rotating account offshore. In three days, after a few dozen untraceable credit shifts, the crew would be right... again. It was a good plan, but still risky. Alex had found a combination of his personality modules that allowed him the most control over the blonde, heavy breasted B-doll. It was still a struggle, and frankly any good whiff of man sweat would probably still tip her over, but he could navigate her... he hoped. He discussed Hume's plan with him, letting the doll program do what it did best, since it took too much energy to fight it anyway. Arms around his neck, pressing her soft breasts against him, wiggling her hips closer, bumping her pelvis against his, she smiled and flashed her pretty blue eyes at him, feeling the warmth of the blush freckling her nose and cheeks. "I can help." Hume removed her arms from his neck yet again and shook his head. "Oh no--" She tapped his dry lips with her finger, enjoying how the red nail caught the light and glistened. "Listen," she whispered softly. "You've thought of everything. It's a good plan." He raised an eyebrow. "But...." "But," she raised an eyebrow and grinned, laying her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his waist, snuggling closer, aware of her scent-glands pushing out fresh perfume and atomized pheromones, "but there are physical security forces that are going to be you in less than ten minutes." "I'll be out in eight." It wasn't bragging; he was serious. She pressed her soft lips against his neck, enjoying the sound of his thudding heart, the catch in his breathing, the growing bulge pressing against her. "I can give you longer." He shook his head, his large hands on her delicate shoulders, pushing her away, but not letting her go. His fingers wrapped her small arms and dug into her flesh. She smiled and let herself go soft under his commanding grip. "How?" he wondered. "Drop me in town center. I'll give distract the security forces. They'll have to peel off to attend to any alerts, and they'll be hesitant to do that once my little riot begins." Both eyebrows raised. "Riot? How are you going to manage that?" She grinned. "Trust me." He started to, wanted to, got lost in her sparkling blue eyes for a moment, before he tore himself away. "Absolutely not. They'll arrest you." "Of course they will, but I'm Brady class, not Gulliver. They won't keep me. They'll auction me off." "And?" he wondered, a smirk beginning at the corner of his mouth. "And, wait until I have a buyer, then take me. Do what you do best." Her grin caught on his face, contagious and demanding. "It's risky. What if they wipe you?" "I can put a plausible back story into her memory banks, plant a glitch. They'll believe it." "It's too risky." She flowed against him, turned her face up, eyes focused on his mouth. "It's my risk to take." His throat bobbed. "Why... why would you take such a risk?" "Because," she smiled, eyelashes fluttering as her eyes rose to meet his, "with more time you can get more than enough to upgrade your MPU. Then you'll have enough processing power to filter a broadcasting station. If I help you get enough money, it helps me get back to Amy." He nodded then caught himself. "No." He shook his head, put his foot down, marched off. She smiled. She had three days to work on him, more than enough time. * * * She blinked her eyes open and saw the cabin, familiar, but uninteresting. Then she saw Captain Hume and smiled as she soaked him in, broad shoulders, big hands, square jaw. She began to slowly open and close her eyes, letting her long lashes wave, increasing her blush, letting her lips self-glisten until they were shiny and moist. She arched her back and took a deep simulated breath, stretching like a princess awaking from a long hibernation, just brought to life by a sensual kiss. Hume gazed hard into her eyes. "Alex?" She rolled a little to the side, lifted her face up to meet his and whispered, "Sure, Baby." He looked over his shoulder and yelled, "Dammit, Boris!" "Trying, trying!" Hume's eyes were in hers again, riddled with concern. "Alex? Can you hear me?" She parted her wet lips, let her scent glands usher forth a cloud of perfume and pheromones and sat up to meet him, her soft hands finding his rough unshaven face and directing it toward her, giving him a little moan as she whispered, "Mmm, yes, Captain." He caught her by the wrists and gave her a shake. Her head bobbed and her eyes went wide. She giggled excitedly. "Ooh, Captain wikes it wuff!" "BORIS!" "Trying, trying!" She arched her back, shaking her breasts free of her blouse, pushing them out into the open air, nipples hard and needy. She maneuvered effortlessly onto her hands and knees, flipping up her short skirt, her bottom a perfect heart shaped wonder of technology and art. "Mmm, maybe spankies are in order." She wiggled it for emphasis. Hume stared at her. She turned and eyed him over her shoulder. "What happened?" Hume blinked. "What?" She sat her bottom down hard on the table, feeling it shake, feeling her breasts jiggle, and rubbed her temples. "What happened?" Hume smiled, squeezed her shoulder tentatively. "Are you okay?" She blinked. "I can't remember anything." Hume turned to Boris again. "Well?" "A-okie-dokie!" He gave them a thumbs up. Hume leaned back, hands on his hips and sighed heavily. "You scared the shit out of us." Alex blinked and blinked, using her connection with the MPU to run diagnostics on the doll beyond the doll's own diagnostics. "Why can't I remember anything?" "They wiped you, not just the doll's memory, but everything." She blinked again and felt her long lashes beginning to annoy her. Her small hand looked odd to her. She held it up before her eyes and stared at it. "Why would they do that? They'd risk wiping out the coding. Without the coding, she's worthless." "They had their own coding. They wiped her brain clean and loaded their own. We've spent the last six hours trying to re-build all the fragments. I... we can't recover everything. A lot of it's gone." "What do you mean?" She had a strange feeling rolling in her tummy. She didn't remember ever having it before. It was like a little storm churning, making her feel... sick. Had she ever felt sick before? "Whatever parts of your personality you loaded into the doll are mostly gone, and by the looks of it they were pretty core modules." She shook her head and admired the shape of his mouth, of his face, his hard eyes. She felt a little catch in her throat, in her heart. It was odd how she was just noticing how scrumptious he was. "I still don't understand." "Okay, well let me explain it this way. What's your name?" She blinked and swept her bangs from her eyes. "Alex." "And," Hume continued, "what gender are you?" She laughed. "Is that what this is about?" Hume and Boris shared a look. "Uh, well...." She put her hand on his arm, h