Old Family, New Friends

(Note; this story belongs in the same series -- and the same future world -- as my earlier Restarted, parts one and two, Thanks for the Memories, The Transgression Solutions, and Once Bitten, Live Twice. You don't have to have read any of those to understand it, though.)

*

There was one other person in the clinic's exercise room when Stephen entered the place on his own for the first time -- a woman, already hard at work on one of the exercise bikes. He glanced at her for a moment, noting that she had the usual slim, rangy figure of one of the Restarted; however, dark hair was growing through the silver that marked those who had only just had their youth restored. Then he looked away and stepped over to one of the rowing machines. It sensed his medical implant as he sat in the saddle, and adjusted its settings to match his exercise programme. Taking a deep breath, he started the session.

The doctors had told him that he needed to work on endurance first, so he was set to spend some time on this machine, and he soon found his rhythm. It was all a little boring, but he discovered that he enjoyed the feeling of a body that could handle anything as strenuous as systematic exercise, and he began to lose himself in the process. He was vaguely aware that the woman was moving around the room, using several of the machines in turn, but he paid her no particular attention, However, after some minutes, he realised that she had stopped her own exercises and she was now standing a few feet from him, staring. He slowed to a relaxed pace, and glanced towards her.

"Hello?" he said.

"My God," she said. "Stephen? Is that you?"

He slowed to a halt and looked at her. "I'm sorry," he said. "Do I know you?"

"Stephen?" she repeated. "Did your memory go that badly?"

He stared back. Her face was almost gaunt, little fat yet returned since she had been Restarted, and his memories were dim, ageing having worn away his brain and the gaps now filled with blank space, but gradually he began to find something familiar about her. He gasped. "Sarah?" he asked, "Is that really you?"

She looked into his eyes. "Oh," was all she said, then "Oh, my."

"My God, Sarah," he said. "I'd have thought -- I mean, I'm about as young as they ever normally Restart, and you're ten years younger..."

"Your memory is that good, then," she said with a faint smile.

"What was it? Early onset Alzheimer's or something? I hear that they've taken some younger people with that."

She took a deep breath. "We need to talk," she said. "I'm sure that all this exercise can wait."

"I hadn't heard about you being ... I mean, I don't remember hearing about it. I know it's been a long time since the divorce..."

"Thirty years," she said, "more."

"Well, yes. But I was still in touch with some mutual friends. I remember that."

"Come on," she said, "let's get changed. This is a silly place to talk."

Stephen obediently climbed up from the machine,and headed back to the changing rooms, aware that he was being followed at a distance of a couple of paces. In the locker room, they extracted bags of clothes, and Stephen turned towards a showers -- only to find that he was still being followed.

"Hey," he said, "no need ... I mean ... look, you do remember that we're divorced, don't you?"

"I remember the divorce," she said, "but haven't you realised yet? We're Restarted. Everything can start over."

"Even so..."

"Oh, don't worry," she smiled, and Stephen thought that she looked almost hungry. "I'm not thinking anything serious. I just have this urge to stick close to you."

Stephen thought that he should argue more. But the cheerful warnings that the doctors had given him were correct; his Restarted body and brain had a lot in common with those of a teenager, impulsive and irresponsible. He didn't know what to expect next, but he simply stepped into the shower room. Then he began nervously to remove his shoes, shorts, and vest, only to see that his companion was hauling hers off with a kind of casual haste, tossing them into the washing box in the corner of the room and then staring at him with a mocking smile. Like her face, her breasts were still filling out, leaving them small and pert; although he was careful where he looked, he noted that her pubic hair was already dark, though thin.

He finished undressing, then stepped over to the shower itself and twisted the dial for a jet of warm water. She was there with him, brushing his naked body with her own, then applying soap to him as well as to herself. In a last show of self-control, he tried to keep his back to her as much as possible, but that just gave her a chance to massage his shoulders with soapy hands. Then came the moment when he had to turn more towards her, and in an instant she was pressing herself against him, those pert breasts against his chest, and kissing him hard.

She broke the kiss and grinned at him. "Fancy a fuck?" she asked.

He blinked. "Wow. You're more ... forthright than you used to be." His memories were dim, but he wasn't sure if he could ever remember Sarah saying "fuck" during their marriage if she could help it.

"Probably. It's good to be young again. Anyway, what about it?"

"I thought that you weren't thinking of anything serious," he reminded her.

"Who's being serious? Haven't you ever heard of casual sex?"

"Sarah..." he said.

"No," she said, "hush." She put a finger to his lips, then ran both hands down his sides. He moaned, suddenly aware that he had a huge erection. He had barely even masturbated since he had awoken from the Restart process, nervous that this youthful restored body might somehow be fragile, but now he realised that it was very definitely capable of sex.

She leaned back against the wall of the shower, spreading her legs as he did so, and he crouched between them. She took hold of his erection and guided it to her cunt.

"Come on," she murmured, "fuck me, Big Boy."

He impulsively thrust by straightening his legs, pushing deep inside her and lifting her up the wall. She gasped loudly, and he paused for a moment, but then she embraced him with arms and thighs, so that he was bearing her full weight. He was dimly pleased to notice that this was no problem.

"Oh," she moaned, then she gave a fierce hiss. "Yes! Don't stop, for God's sake. Come on, Big Boy!"

He found that he had no choice but to obey, even at the risk of battering her against the tiles of the wall. The silky grip of her cunt on his erection was sending irresistible pulses of lust through his whole body, and he could feel his balls tensing, almost throbbing. He fought to control himself; fortunately, she seemed to be as enthusiastic as himself, and her murmurs of encouragement were quickly turning to yelps of pleasure. Nonetheless, he quickly lost control, and with a last thrust and a groan, he poured himself into her. However, as he held her against the wall for one last long moment, she too gave a moan and then a soft gasp. Then she grasped his hair and kissed him hard. "Thassit, Big Boy," she mumbled.

He withdrew from her, moving unsteadily, and steadied himself with one hand on the shower controls. They were both breathing deeply, and she grabbed a soapy sponge and mopped between her legs, then held the sponge to her nose and inhaled the scent of his semen.

"Thanks," Stephen said.

"No trouble," she muttered.

Stephen leant against the wall, the shower jet still running over him, and suddenly laughed softly.

"What's funny?" she asked.

"Oh, nothing much," Stephen replied. "It's just that -- well, you never called me anything like 'Big Boy' before."

"No, I don't suppose I ever, ever did."

"What does that mean?"

"Stephen," she said, "I'm not Sarah."

"What?" he almost snapped. "What are you talking about?"

"Simple. I'm not Sarah."

"Don't be silly," Stephen said, staring at her face. "You may be Restarted, but you're still the same person. And I remember what my wife looked like."

"I'm sure you do. But you always used to say that Sarah looked like me. I liked that. You made a compliment of it."

Stephen paused, still staring. "Mrs Davies?" he gasped.

The woman laughed at that as she rinsed the sponge out under the shower and then put it aside. "Please," she said. "No need to be so formal. You can call me Judy. Judith, if you insist, I suppose."

"You are her!"

"I said I am."

"You -- you lied to me!"

"I didn't correct you. Sorry."

"Where the hell is Sarah?"

"Where she's been for the last ten or twelve years, of course. Living on the other side of the country. Actually, she came to visit a couple of weeks ago, but I'm afraid that children find Restarted parents a bit confusing, so she may not be back for a while. But she's fine, before you ask."

"What the hell did you think you were doing just now?"

"That's another silly question, isn't it?" She smiled. "Okay, I seduced you, if that's what you mean. Sorry I did it before I corrected your little misunderstanding, but it's just how things worked out."

"You're appalling!"

"So screwing your ex-mother-in-law is worse than screwing your ex-wife?"

"Yes!"

"Oh, don't be a prig, Stephen. You enjoyed it either way, didn't you?"

"Do you think I'd have done it if I'd known?"

Judy Davies paused, frowned, drew breath. "All right, to be honest, I wasn't sure. Sorry I took advantage of your confusion. Shall I tell you the truth, though?"

"Please do," Stephen said with as much dignity as he could manage.

"One thing I remember from before is that I fancied you all along," Judy said. "I mean, back when you were married to Sarah. Oh, nothing undignified -- I just thought that she'd done okay for herself. I always wondered what you were like -- what it was like for her, you know? And then you saw me as her, so I couldn't resist finding out."

"And now you know."

"I guess that I do." Judy reached down and brushed his limp cock with a fingertip. "Though maybe that was a stupid idea, really. We're both of us very different people than we were back then, aren't we? You're not my daughter's husband, and I'm not that mother-in-law you were always so formally polite to. So I doubt that I just got what Sarah did. I assume that you never wondered how I'd be to screw, by the way?"

"No! You're sick!"

"Perfectly healthy, according to the doctors here. I assume that the same goes for you." Suddenly, she dropped to her knees in front of him. "God," she murmured, "it's lovely."

"What?" Stephen's head was spinning with confusion.

"Your penis, of course." Judy leaned forward and kissed the organ in question, once then twice. "Mmm. I must admit that I'd probably never have done this before, even if I could have got you into bed." Raising his cock between finger and thumb, she engulfed the first three inches with her mouth and sucked gently. Stephen gasped softly, his body refusing to do anything that might stop what was happening.

Judy moved her head back and forward, almost immediately having to switch position a little as his cock came fully erect once more. Stephen stood paralysed for several long moments, then with a moan, he sank to the floor of the shower room, pulling out of Judy's mouth in the process. Judy laughed and lay back, opening her legs, then briefly helped him push into her once more.

"C'mon, Big Boy," she crooned in his ear. "You want it, you got it. Now use it."

Stephen responded with a series of hard thrusts, at which Judy laughed. Then he paused. I'm not an animal, he thought, I'm not actually trying to hurt her. He put one hand under Judy's head, saving it from being battered against the floor as they fucked, and used the other to lift himself a little so that he could look her in the eye.

She looked back. "Use it," she repeated.

Stephen began to thrust slowly, deeply, drawing breath each time. Soon, Judy's soft gasps fell into the same pattern. Then, trying to slow himself down this time, he paused and looked her hard in the eyes. Both of them wore neutral expressions, but after a moment, he kissed her on the mouth, experimentally. She made a soft, appreciative noise in the back of her throat.

Then he returned to the slow, steady fucking, feeling tension building once more in his balls. Again, he paused to avoid too fast an ending. "God, yes," Judy moaned. "Why the hell did that silly child ever let you go?"

"It's a long story," Stephen muttered.

Judy laughed. "You can remind me some time... No, fuck that. Fuck me! Harder, you beautiful bastard!"

Stephen took the hint, or perhaps just succumbed to the urging from his groin, and began pounding into her, battering his knees and her buttocks against the floor of the shower. In perhaps a minute, she let off a prolonged, wordless cry, which released something in him, so her once more felt a throbbing pulsation in his cock, a little weaker than the first time but taking three times longer.

Then the nature of the situation hit him again, as he saw Judy's manic smile. "Christ," he muttered.

"What's the matter, babe?" she asked as he pulled out of her. "Not worried what people will think, are you?"

"I don't know," he said. "I don't know what I think about this."

They both climbed to their feet and finished showering, saying nothing as they did so. As they towelled off, and put their usual clothes back on, Judy gave Stephen a hard look. He scowled back at her.

"I'm sorry," he said, "but I'm really going to have to think about this."

In fact, Stephen tried to forget the incident, avoiding Judy when he saw her around the clinic, but two days later he found himself talking about it, to Wilhelmina Cross, although he'd barely spoken to her before that day. They had found themselves together in the computer room, both tackling the challenge of learning their way around modern computer interfaces, with their too-intuitive touch and gesture controls. Soon, they were chatting. Although Wilhelmina too was Restarted, Stephen initially failed to find her appearance as being as youthful as most of his fellow patients; she was broad in the hips and shoulders, with a square face. Like some others of the Restarted, she dressed in what was evidently a style from her younger years; a floral print maxi-dress. It didn't flatter her.

But as they talked, he found himself noticing the exotic contrast between her dark skin and her still dead-white hair, which she wore in tight cornrow braids close to her scalp. Her voice was soft, quite deep, and she always looked at him as he spoke. It took him a few minutes to sense that she was flirting with him, but only a second after that to decide that he liked it. When he joked about the computers, she laughed softly, and that made him want to think of more jokes. When they gave up for the day, they went for coffee together without even discussing the idea, and he found that he was still looking at her and she at him when even when the conversation tailed off.

"I'll be glad when they've finished all these tests," he said, looking for a new subject to extend the conversation.

"Yeah, it's a bore," Wilhelmina agreed.

"I thought that you'd been out from the process a lot longer than me," Stephen said.

"Oh yeah, my body's fine," Wilhelmina replied with a grin. "But I've got a bit more to check up here." She tapped her forehead.

"That seems fine to me too."

"Huh," Wilhelmina laughed. "I think so too. But that's the problem with gaps in your memory. You don't remember they're there." She took a thoughtful breath. "Still, they reckon I've got enough to work with now."

"Good. Sounds like you're doing fine. And it's just the psychologists with you?"

"Yeah. Mostly talking."

"Lucky you. I feel like a medical specimen sometimes," Stephen said. "My room is full of monitors and stuff."

"Mine isn't," Wilhelmina said, putting her empty coffee cup down. "So I guess we better go there."

As she had promised, her room looked more like a private bedroom and less like a medical facility than Stephen's. As soon as the door was closed, she turned and kissed him, and he responded by clasping at her buttocks. "Ah," she said, breaking the kiss, "seems like you're happy about this."

She half-fell, half-sat back on the bed, and Stephen, suddenly frenzied, dragged his shirt off over his head, then pushed his pants and briefs down to the floor without removing his shoes. Wilhelmina giggled, kicked her own shoes off, and then rolled backwards, pulled the front of her skirt up to her thighs, and removed her panties. Stephen lurched forward, and she laughed again and pulled her skirt up further, exposing a pussy with bone-white pubic hair contrasting again with her dark skin. Stephen found he was already hard, and he half-leaned, half-knelt towards her. Giggling, she took hold of his cock and managed to lead him to her entrance as he pushed urgently forward.

She was damp, but not yet fully ready, and they both moaned a little at the discomfort of the moment. But then Stephen managed to pause, and they wriggled and moved until they were both relatively comfortable. Then Stephen began to fuck rhythmically, finding the tightness of her cunt increasingly exciting and her wordless gasps of enthusiasm even more encouraging.

Suddenly it was too much for him, and he groaned as his cock pulsed and his hips twitched convulsively, then half-collapsed onto her.

"Sorry" he muttered.

"Hey, s'okay honey," Wilhelmina replied. "I don't suppose were all finished yet, are we?"

Stephen raised himself up on his hands, frowning, but then discovered that Wilhelmina was right; for all its intensity, the orgasm hadn't left him entirely spent. He even found that he was still quite hard inside her, and now, as Wilhelmina began caressing his chest and brushing his nipples with her fingertips, the lust began surging through his body again.

"God," he murmured, "this is wonderful."

"Ain't it just?" Wilhelmina nodded. "You inside me, like that -- so big, but so right -- yeah, that's sweet, honey, Keep that there."

Stephen kissed her, now pressing his naked chest against her, feeling her breasts through her dress -- she was longer out of Restart than some, and she had begun to fill out noticeably - and she squirmed appreciatively. Somewhere along the way, he managed to kick off his shoes, although his pants were still entangling his ankles, and they shifted to a more comfortable position on the bed. Now, with Stephen hardening again, locking their bodies together, Wilhelmina wriggled for a moment, then, with a twist and a push from one leg, she rolled him over, keeping him inside her all the way. Then she lifted herself up, pulling her knees up to his hips so she was kneeling astride him. With a little effort, she pulled her dress off over her head, leaving her naked, and he found himself gazing at her breasts. They weren't very full, but they had large, almost jet-black nipples. He reached up and fondled them with both hands.

"That's good, honey," Wilhelmina said. "Oh my, but I do love this."

Seeing her appreciation, Stephen raised his head and torso up from the surface of the bed, bringing his face up to her breasts. "Sweet," Wilhelmina said as he ran his tongue over her nipples, "sweet, sweet..." Then, bearing up and down rhythmically on his erection, which had grown fully rigid once more, she repeated the words until they almost became a chant. "Sweet! Sweet! Sweet! Sweet!"

Stephen was able to hold back now, concentrating on working on her nipples with his tongue, though she was moving enough that her breasts were sometimes snatched away from his mouth. She seemed to enjoy what he was doing nonetheless, and the chant soon collapsed into a wordless orgasmic gasp. Before he reacted, though, Wilhelmina put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him back flat on the bed. Arched over him, her eyes now shut in an expression of complete concentration, now almost entirely silent, she ground her crotch against his, driving herself to a second orgasm.