Touched by a Cyber-Angel Pt. 02

The big dildo started to push against her tight sphincter, gently at first, then with more force. Slowly, it pried the ring muscle open and squeezed inside. "Oh, oh, OOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHH," she wailed and labored futilely against her bonds, trying to drive it into her faster and further.

Deliberately, millimeter by creeping millimeter, the enormous dildo thrust deeper into her impatient asshole. When it finally reached full insertion, her eyes rolled back into her head as if she were about to pass out in rapture. Then, just as it began to withdraw, the vibrator, still buzzing wickedly, began to slide into her vagina. Her head tossed from side to side as her ecstasy climbed to an even loftier level.

Gradually, over the next 15 minutes, the joy machine increased its speed, driving the angelic android to higher and higher peaks of pleasure and more and more intense climaxes. As she shrieked her almost continual bliss, the lab techs took notes and chatted. It was just another day at work. But the other andro-companions glanced over jealously, and enthusiastically volunteered to be next for the test.

"And so," Spielmann was finally concluding as Howie shook off his fantasy, "in order to maintain the necessary level of secrecy, we're going to have to ask you to pretend she is real, at least until the testing is done and we begin to market the final version.

"Actually, we're doing more than asking. We're putting it in the contract. If you reveal the fact that she is an android, we can rescind the sale and repossess her. And the contract also expressly provides that we can sue your foolish butt off. And we will.

"So, we've invented a cover story you can use about her being a rich Earth chick you met on the interplanetary net, and how you fell in love and she offered to pay her own way to come out here to marry you. It's very detailed and we've got it all written out, if you want to use it. Of course, you can make up your own cover if you want, but you have to make sure to let Cinda is in on it so she'll tell the same....."

"Wait a minute," Howie interrupted. "I thought androids were very strictly programmed to always tell the truth. How can this one tell any kind of phony 'cover story'?"

"Yes, yes, of course," the manager answered quickly, "You're absolutely right. MicroHard's patented Veracity Circuitry ensures that our androids always tell the truth. We absolutely cannot have them running around lying to real people. We'd never permit that. But just to keep the Beta testing secret, as we have to, and to protect its proprietary nature, [Howie barely suppressed a yawn] we've inserted a very small and discrete override to that programming, strictly to permit small deceptions that are directly related to preventing the public at large, for the time being, from learning that she's an andro-companion.

"She can't deceive you at all, of course. She has to tell you the absolute truth at all times. And, when the final model goes on sale, the contract requires that she be brought in so that we can remove the override and she'll be the same with everyone else, too.

"Okay? So, ready to meet her?"

"You bet," said Howie, immediately forgetting any concerns he may have had about her programming.

"Cinda, Darling," Spielmann called, "Come out and meet Mr. Ricardo."

She stepped gracefully out of the storeroom and glided around the counter. Howie's knees buckled. She was better than gorgeous. She was stunning. She was breathtaking. She was impossibly beautiful and overwhelmingly sexy. In fact, she looked a lot like the actress in Howie's favorite holo-porn, but better and sexier, much, much sexier. Howie had an instant boner.

She was still wearing the same provocative outfit and makeup she'd had on when Spielmann had "tested" her. Even if she could wear a dress shorter than that one, Howie thought (although anything shorter would probably have been a misdemeanor in most jurisdictions), it wouldn't make her any sexier. She's already at 110% on the sexymeter, and she knows it.

She glanced subtly at Howie's crotch and smiled. "Hello, Mr. Ricardo," she purred, extending her hand.

Howie took it gently, shook it politely and held it.

"Cinda, Baby, show Mr. Ricardo some of your functions," gushed Spielmann.

"What can I show you, Mr. Ricardo?" she asked. "Want to see how I look as a blonde?"

"No, you're perfect as a redhead," he answered. "And call me 'Howie'."

"And you're a gentleman and a sweetie," she cooed, taking his other hand in hers. "How about bigger breasts? You did tell him they're adjustable, didn't you, Dexter, Honey? You keep forgetting that," she pouted.

"God, no," Howie said quickly. "They're the best breasts I've ever seen. Please don't change them."

She giggled coyly.

"But let me show you something," she pleaded.

"How about a different color lipstick?" Howie ventured. "Bright red."

"Close your eyes for just a second, …Howie," she said quietly.

He complied, and almost as soon as he closed them, she said, "Okay."

Her lips were fire engine red.

"Blue eyes?" he suggested and she did it. She was still gorgeous.

"Well," said the manager, turning to Lucinda, "Why don't you take Mr. Ricardo and the face catalogue into the consultation room and show him some of your other faces?"

"I don't want to see any other faces," protested Howie. "This one is perfect."

She picked up a large, heavy book and grabbed him by the arm. "Come on, Silly, it's fun," she smiled.

In the consultation room, she sat down on a loveseat, just big enough for two, and patted the space next to her. "Right here, Handsome," she said breathily.

When he sat, she put the book on his lap, pressing it gently against his aching hard-on. The book was full of large, close-up holo-pics, displaying one stupefyingly pretty face after another. Her leg rubbed against his as she moved, and each time she turned a page, her hand brushed softly against his big boner.

"This one, the Suzi, is one of my favorites," she said. "And so's the Bimbette, which is this one. And this, Pink Pussy. And Desiree, right here, seems to be the most popular so far."

Her femme fatale voice, the touch of her warm synthetic flesh and the endless parade of deadly cute faces, each with a sensuous, pouty, open-mouthed or puckered up expression were combining to drive him crazy.

He slid back into the imaginary lab, this time not from boredom, of course, but because he couldn't resist fantasizing about the Lucinda and the alluring women in the book, and because he now had faces to attach to the seductive creatures in his make-believe laboratory.

The andro-companion in the "conversation" pit, who was now a blonde Suzi, was planting kisses, all tongue and lip-sucking, on one of the technicians. She pulled down the fly of a second. His big boner popped out and she began grabbing desperately at it. She then switched her oral attentions to the third tech as the first one slid his hand between her thighs and searched for her sensitive clit. The fourth massaged her left breast with one hand while fumbling with his zipper with the other.

On the dance floor, one of the lab workers was taking turns dancing and chatting with a group of five Betas to evaluate their grace and overall social skills. A second technician watched, checked the read-outs and made notes on an electronic clipboard.

All of the ladies were dressed in gauzy, flirtatious dresses, with short skirts that swung and floated when they moved. They obviously found the rhythm, the music and the physical contact stimulating, because whichever one was dancing at any given time kept pressing her body against the lab tech and trying to turn the conversation to blatantly sexual topics. Meanwhile the other four congregated around the tech with the clipboard, stroking his arm and bantering coquettishly.

Howie inserted himself into the fantasy, imagining that he was the guy doing the dancing. His partner was a black-haired Bimbette. Clearly, she was way more interested in body contact than demonstrating her dance floor expertise. She rubbed gently and sensuously against him, then threw both arms around his neck and turned her face upward, lips slightly parted, inviting a kiss. He accepted the invitation eagerly.

Seeing Howie and Bimbette, the other four glamorous cyber-angels became more assertive. Two of them stayed with the clipboard-toting technician, while the others came onto the dance floor to join Howie and Bimbette.

The girls began to rip off the men's clothing and pull out their stiff pricks. Being dedicated professionals, the guys went along in the interest of thorough testing. Before long, Howie's pants were down on the dance floor, around his ankles, and there were three cyber-angels on their knees, taking turns licking, kissing and sucking his cock.

Howie looked down and saw the adorable faces of Bimbette and a brunette Desiree looking back up at him. The third cyber-angel was enthusiastically hoovering away at his hard-on, so that all he could see was the top of her head. But he knew instantly from her thick, flame red-hair that it was Lucinda.

The other two girls took turns sucking his balls and licking or nibbling at any part of his cock Lucinda left exposed. Then they switched, transferring Howie's boner with their mouths as if it were a meat baton in an oral relay race.

The horny androids, however, soon lost whatever little patience they had with sharing the limited supply of penises. A series of cat-fights broke out with harsh words and barely controlled pushing and shoving. Howie asked the tech with the clipboard to make a note to review their courtesy and etiquette programming.

Howie's hard-on was grabbed, pulled, and twisted this way and that as the girls struggled for its possession. They were very evenly matched, except that Lucinda seemed a little more determined than the others and, eventually, they had to relent and let her have her way.

"Lucinda, Darling Lucinda," Howie murmured quietly. She turned her gorgeous face upwards with her delicious mouth still full of Howie's hard cock, which in his fantasy was, of course, impossibly enormous.

"Yes, Howie, Snookums?" the real Lucinda answered, breaking Howie's erotic trance. He looked at her blankly, slightly confused and realized he had been staring deep into her eyes for some time.

"So," she asked after a few seconds, "which one do you like best?"

He leaned back and groaned, "Which what?" he asked. "Oh, which face," he said, answering his own question. "I don't know. They're all great. I can't decide. You do it."

"But Bunny-Honey," she said bashfully, "You haven't said you're going to buy me yet. There's no point in my deciding on a face if you haven't even decided to buy me."

The second he had seen her, Howie knew he would pay every cent MicoHard was asking for her, but he was still hoping to negotiate a little about the price, so he used every ounce of self-control he possessed, and resisted the temptation to announce his intentions immediately.

Instead, he said, "Let me see that pink lipstick again. That was the best."

She leaned toward him, rubbing her soft breast against his arm. "Close your eyes," she whispered.

But as soon as he did, he felt her warm lips on his. He opened his eyes and looked into hers, which were now green again. He opened his mouth and her hot, wet tongue thrust in deeply. His hand delicately massaged her firm breast.

She leaned back from him. "Maybe a little test drive will help you decide," she suggested, as she swiftly and casually unzipped his fly and dragged his big, hard cock out of the opening. His fantasy became reality as she turned toward him, rested one knee on the loveseat and slowly lowered her bewitching lips to his painfully stiff penis.

She licked the length of its sensitive underside and he could see that her velvet tongue was pierced by a line of three small, silver studs. She sucked on the bloated head of his hard-on, lightly and teasingly at first. Then, as she sucked harder, she let it slide slowly into her mouth, deeper and deeper until it was all the way down her throat. Her tongue studs gently caressed the length of his erection.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh," Howie moaned. So much warmer, so much wetter and softer and better than plasti-pussy, he thought. Just what I've always thought a blow job from a real girl ought to feel like.

She leisurely raised and lowered her head to let Howie slip in and out, in and out, in and out. He put one hand on the back of her neck and the other on top of her head and used gentle pressure to suggest the tempo he preferred. In no more than thirty seconds, his arms and legs tensed and his back arched as orgasm quickly approached.

She let him slide all the way out and, without sitting up, turned her head to face him.

"You could have that every day if you buy me," she said. "In fact, you could have it five times a day. I loooove doing it. Did you know I can cum just from sucking you off? I'm getting close already. All day and all night, Howie. You want it?"

The sight of her pretty face inches from his rigid cock reminded him of his lab fantasy. It was just overpoweringly provocative. He pulled her face down into his lap again. She came hungrily, and immediately reswallowed his rod. Any intention he had ever had to bargain over her price was consigned straight to the same landfill of well-intentioned but unrealistic commitments as his New Year's resolution to stop wasting so much time on porno-vids and his promise to his mother to give up alcohol for Lent.

"Of course I'll buy you, you slutty little wet dream," he moaned feverishly as he hung on the very edge of orgasm. "Just don't stop. Please don't stop. Don't ever stop."

She immediately leapt to her feet, Howie's prick springing from her mouth like an obscene jack-in-the-box. She clapped her hands between her knees and did a short, quick dance like a giddy schoolgirl.

"And marry me? Are you going to marry...I mean, pretend to marry...me?" Without waiting for an answer, she leaned her head out the door and shouted into the main salesroom, "Hey Dexie, he says he'll buy me. Isn't that great? He's going to buy me."

When she turned back and saw the look of agony on Howie's face, her jaw dropped and her hands shot up to cover her open mouth. "Sorry, sorry, sorry. Didn't mean to stop," she muttered, then dove face-first for his cock and swallowed it again.

In a matter of seconds, she once more had Howie, and herself, ready to cum. But, just as he began to tremble and shake, just as he was about to gush his liquid love, Spielmann came into the room.

"Now, now, Cinda. Stop that this instant," he said firmly, but with faint amusement.

She immediately jumped up and stamped her foot angrily. "You're always spoiling my fun," she fumed.

Howie exhaled deeply in frustration and slumped into a limp puddle of disappointment

"You know you're not allowed to do that until he buys you," Spielmann answered. The suspicion crossed Howie's lust-befuddled brain that, if the store manager's timing was deliberate, it was a truly brilliant sales strategy.

She spun around to face Howie, who was trying ineffectually to sit up straight. "So, how come he and his four-inch dick can fuck me, but no one else gets to?" Lucinda demanded angrily. "Mr. Party-Pooper Squeelmann, here fucked me this morning, corn-holed this afternoon, and yesterday…"

"Now, that's…that's…and it's…that's just not true," Spielmann interrupted, stammering, then turned to Howie. "I mean the part about me, that is,....I mean that part about me and, you know, her," he continued. "And… the other part… that, too… about the… inches…" he added.

Then, composing himself, he went on, "We at MicroHard have a strict policy prohibiting employees from using inventory for personal enjoyment. Violation of that policy means instant dismissal. And I would never..."

"But he said he's going to buuuy me," Lucinda's wail interrupted.

Howie, whose stubborn erection was still as stiff as ever, thought briefly about slinking off to the men's room to finish what Lucinda had started. But he decided to wait a bit to see if there was any possibility that she'd be able to do it for him.

"Cinda, what if he changes his mind?" the store manager asked, pointing toward Howie, as if he might be the kind of love-'em-and-leave-'em scum who would take an android for extended testing, then return her like an unwanted Christmas gift, claiming that she was defective, her pussy wasn't big enough or that she was the wrong color to go with his favorite couch. "No one wants to buy a used andro-companion," he warned.

"Now, wait… ," Howie protested.

Spielmann ignored Howie, continuing as if he weren't there and hadn't spoken. "Besides, it would be illegal," he pointed out. "The pre-ownership contract - and he hasn't even signed that yet - clearly stipulates, at section XIV, subsection A, paragraph 6, that, 'The prospective purchaser will not consummate any intimate relationship with the prospective merchandise prior to consummating the prospective purchase'."

Lucinda was now growing increasingly cross. "How can it be 'intimate' with you watching, you lame, perverted, conniving asshole?" she challenged.

"Look…" Spielmann went on apologetically, now ignoring Lucinda and turning back to Howie.

"And limp," Lucinda interrupted.

"But I… ," Howie began, trying to reason with one or the other of them.

Spielmann resumed ignoring Howie. "When was I ever…?" he started to ask Lucinda.

"And pathetic," she broke in loudly. "I forgot 'pathetic'. Don't want to forget that."

Spielmann turned back to Howie and opened his mouth as if speak, but Lucinda cut him off again.

"And nauseous," she shouted.

Spielmann looked slightly confused.

"I meant 'nauseating'," Lucida immediately barked. "I'm 'nauseous'. He's probably nauseous, too," she added, pointing at Howie. "But you're 'nauseating'."

Howie wanted to say that he was too horny to be nauseous and doubted that an android would be capable of it, but before he could, Lucinda stamped her cute little foot again, clenched her fists and turned to face the wall in bitter, stony silence. Her nose was only inches from a framed copy of the MicroHard Ten Commandments of Superior Customer Service, which just happened to be hanging there, on the wall. Howie decide to keep his mouth shut.

Spielmann looked cautiously at Lucinda's shapely backside and waited a few seconds to make sure it was safe to continue. "Look…," he said to Howie.

"Loser!" Lucinda spat without turning around.

Spielmann hesitated, then began again. "Look…" he started, then paused to see if he was going to be interrupted yet again. When Lucinda remained silent, he continued, "Look, I know how eager a new owner can be."

Without turning around, Lucinda began a pantomime of an empathetic speaker, making animated and compassionate gestures with her hands and head.

Spielmann ignored her and continued, "I've got some of the papers already made out. There are a few, last-minute, routine procedures that have to be carried out to activate the ownership functions. They're so simple I can do them myself. If you've brought your credit card, I'll have you out of here and on your way home to enjoy all the benefits of your purchase in 15 minutes."

Lucinda's theatrical parody ended and her body seemed to relax.

Having struggled his still-stiff cock back into his pants, Howie smiled sourly. "Sounds good to...," he began.

But then the smile faded. "Wait a minute," he said, "Did you say, a little while ago, that she lied to me, you know, about you and her, and… you know, also about the four inches? I thought she couldn't lie, except to protect the secrecy of the testing and that she couldn't lie to me at all."