"A Winter's Tale"
The Good Wife & Mistress
“Tell us what you’re into,” the man in the fair coat asked Brenda. His highlighter was ready for her resolve, a clipboard on the writing desk before him. “And be good.”
Brenda only blinked at him. How could she confess her most intimate fantasies to someone who reminded her of a guy who used to solicit her to power his finger? Brenda found herself timid.
“Into?” she stammered.”
“Well, to onset with, do you rather men . . . or women?”
Brenda looked not here. “Both,” she held.
“Ah,” the guy showed interest for the first period since the interview had begun. “Bisexual. . . is there one or the other you slant more towards?”
Brenda shook her rule.
The guy was nodding, beating his pen against his cheek caringly. It stretches the plan a bit, but it would be interesting to see the outcome. Startrux, the planet’s main interstellar freight companionship (and Brenda’s employer for fourteen years) was seeking customs to reduce the catch of lost freight on the long space journey between Terrain and the out-of-the-way colonies. The company’s star-barges largely flew themselves; most of the direction-finding and maintenance systems were automated. Some chop down victim to malfunction or piracy; others austerely vanished somewhere in the substantial distance of their routes.
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The catch with manning the flights, though, unqualified in the months of seclusion required for deep-space flights. The age-old syndrome known as “cabin fever” had particularly devastating results when a crew, no carry some weight how carefully they were psychologically screened, was forced to share a very tiny inescapable space for months on finish. There had in point of fact been murders, quotation Startrux billions of dollars in liability lawsuits, and immense damage to their unrestricted image due to the media enthrallment with space violence.
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Solo flights were attempted for a concise time, but this also proved tricky. Lone pilots had factually gone mad from the solitude.
So, as an conduct experiment, Startrux was attempting to partner human being pilots with bio-mechanical companions. Brenda had been special for this curriculum based on her psych-profile. This was crucial, because the bio-mechs were mainly designed to argue against the problem of sexual withdrawal. They were, in essence, fucking equipment. She molded the three-dimensional descriptions like lumps of mud, working them for hours before she was entirely satisfied. Not-Uncle-Frank existing suggestions, pointed out some of the more innovative capabilities of the bio-mechs, but for the most part gone her alone to build. It was powerfully for Brenda to believe that her designs would be made truly, but she found the simple act of customizing them to be very touching. The familiar soggy tingle between her legs made her fidget in her seat and she wondered if Divinity had felt this manner when He had twisted Eden.
Brenda didn’t see them in the flesh, hadn’t dared delete them from their coffin-shaped boxes, until she was well missing from Earth. She went to Adam first. She had unfaltering to name him Adam. He had broad, brawny shoulders; buffed chest and arms. He had full, physical lips; high, stretched buttocks; and of course his penis was gigantic. Neither her ex-husband nor her one other chap lover had been above all well-endowed, but at epoch it had felt reminiscent of they could tear her separately inside. Brenda knew this was because sometimes she shrank with worry when they entered her. Still, in her fantastic daydreams, all her men were gigantic. Finally, she had unfaltering to make the mass of Adam’s penis flexible depending on her moods. Right out of the sachet, though, she required to see how sizeable he could get.
“Get testing,” she commanded him. “Get as powerfully as you can.”
Adam’s penis obediently inflated, until it was more than a foot long and as great big around as Brenda’s fist. All along the shank were rings and ridges of changeable textures, all oscillating at atypical frequencies.
“Touch yourself,” Brenda held.
Adam stroked the immoral penis. It writhed reminiscent of a snake, gleaming with an slippery secreted lubrication. It was achieve.
“All right, bar.”
Adam dropped his arms to his side. He stood still, awaiting directions.
Eve stood. She was vaguely taller than Brenda, but nowhere nearby the height of Adam. Brenda had calculated Eve’s face as something of a thwart between her Mother’s and that of Tina, her first female lover. A thin, cool tackle with a prominent nose, framed by unfriendly, carefully sculpted blonde hair. Eve’s body was voluptuous, based on a settler named Rita with whom Brenda had had a one-night attitude. Eve’s skin was very fair, almost pale, designed as a premeditated contrast to Adam’s. She had gentle, blondish tufts of mustache between her legs and under her arms, and a light downy fuzz casing her legs. Brenda liked her women to have a barely bit of mustache on their bodies.
“Lie down on the floor,” Brenda held.
The bio-mechanical Eve nodded and walked benevolently across the space. She stretched cat-like across the huge bed.
“Spread your legs,” Brenda thought breathlessly. She was becoming aroused.
Eve opened her legs thick and Brenda kneeled before her. It was sopping with moisture, a fruitful fluid which Brenda could smell. Eve’s clitoris, swollen and as large as Brenda’s pinkie finger, moved curiously about, prehensile and sensitive. One delicate finger slid into the vagina, which contracted tightly, manufacture moist little slap sounds.
Brenda reached out little by little to touch it. Eve’s vaginal lips were lukewarm and moist, full of shaky life. It felt unaffected because it was genuine. Brenda had been told that the bio-mech’s bodies consisted of about eighty-per-cent person tissue. Certain inner organs were mechanical, such as the sensitivity and the lungs, where mock parts were either cheaper, more able or more trustworthy than cloned organs. Their brains were superlative described as organic computers; superconducting fungal growths competent of running the intricate programs necessary for the bio-machines to function. They truly were wondrous creations.
Brenda ran the tip of her creature finger around the gleaming comb of Eve’s bio-mechanical labia. Eve smiled down at her. Brenda smiled back involuntarily, forgetting for a second that Eve’s gesture had merely been a knack of her indoctrination. She didn’t entrust the machines. Not yet.
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