textfiles/sex/EROTICA/W/wetware.txt

WETWARE, Part One

by Marlissa


If it hadn't been for the honk of the car behind him, Dr. Stein
might have idled at the intersection all day, or so some might
have said.  He roused himself from his mental perambulations
to see that, yes, the light was now green and yes, the old lady
had crossed the busy street safely.  You'd think I were sixty
instead of twenty-seven, he chided himself.  He tapped the
accelerator much to the insistence of the truck behind him and
drove through Central Square a little faster than he would have
liked.

Cambridge was always hectic in the morning and the MIT
campus was already in the first throes of early morning classes. 
He parked the old Volvo and hurried to his office, eager to
escape the chaos of the throngs of undergrads, teaching
assistants and profs.  Thank God I don't have to bother with all
that, he thought gratefully.  Call me whiz kid, use me to get
bigger grants, whatever you want, he had told the Dean.  Just
don't make me teach some stupid coursework.  Let me continue
my research in peace by myself.  And the Dean had agreed,
giving him a small if sufficient office in the farthest part of the
old Research Annex.  And why not-- he was the one of the top
artificial intelligence researchers in academia.  

As he glided through the familiar pale green halls of the old
research Annex, Ben Stein was already thinking about the
problem he had been considering during his short commute.  It
was a difficult one to be sure, but those were the only kind he
enjoyed.  He had reached the point in his work where he could
design a definitive neural net that could replicate very clear
human behavioral patterns.  The behavior tree had been
branched to cover any possible permutation of actions-- yes, he
had gotten that far.  It had taken six months to do that.  But
when he tested the neural net on the Cray simulator, it had
crashed.  And despite every debugging routine he could think to
run, even a couple he had written on the fly, the behavior
replication program continued to crash, every time with the
same message:

SYSTEM ERROR ****HARDWARE INSUFFICIENT TO
RUN APPLICATION

He ground his teeth.  Hardware.  Damn.  He had intuitively
seen this coming weeks ago.  At three in the morning he had
finally surrendered to the inevitable.  He would have to call his
former mentor, Rudolph Fristch in the morning.  And here he
was, sitting at his desk staring at the phone, stubbornly thinking
of anyone else he might call.  

Pushing the task off, he dialed into his voice mail.  There was a
message from the Dean requesting his presence at a cocktail
party for the Regents, which the Dean knew he would ignore. 
Then a message from Amanda. 

"Ben, why haven't I heard from you?"  The precise, word-
chopping voice belied Amanda's physical appearance-- tall, dark
and svelte.  And despite the oversized horn rims and tightly
bunned hair, or perhaps because of them, the image was one of 
a very attractive woman.  He and Amanda Crossways often had
coffee together-- it was probably the only social intercourse Ben
allowed himself.  "I want to continue that discussion we started
over coffee in the faculty lounge-- remember?  We were talking
about the Genome Project. Anyway, I'll be in the office till nine,
but will teaching all day.  Talk to you.  Bye.  Oh and check the
Globe-- Technology section.  I think you'll find the item on your
old friend interesting."

Ben erased the message quickly.  He vaguely liked Amanda--
she had a fine mind and had impressively fast-tracked to tenure
in the bio-chem department at thirty two.  And he liked her
disciplined, driven personality-- though underneath he suspected
an inner lack of confidence.  But he just wasn't interested in her
for anything other than a collegial relationship.  She was bright
and pleasant, but he just didn't have time for anything other than
his work.  He had never been good at relationships.  Now
wasn't the time to start.  He'd cool her off by ignoring the
message.

Curious, he pulled the Boston Globe out from under the pile of
office mail.  Flipping to the Technology section, he spotted the
article Amanda had referred to.  He couldn't help it.  the
headline read "Controversial Researcher Bridges Bio-tech And
Computers"

As he read the meat of the story, he shook his head in disbelief. 
It was classic Fristch.

"Dr. Fristch thinks various societal trends will lead to what he
calls 'bio-mechanics'-- a new field of study which will
incorporate software, hardware, and bio-technology. 

'The era of Nature-based biology will be over!' Dr. Fritsch
announces dramatically.  

Most of the academic community scoffs at Frischt's assertions. 
Dr. Amanda Crossway of MIT says that "Fritsch is a genius but
obviously his comments demonstrate why he was asked to leave
MIT-- and why his nomination for a Nobel went nowhere. 
Regular Globe readers will remember Dr. Fritsch resigned his
post at MIT under questionable circumstances involving
irregular research practices.'

Ben snorted.  They were questionable, all right.  He
remembered the incident vividly.  He had been the one that
reported it.  Not that Fritsch knew that, since the call to the
Provost's office was anonymous.  And when everyone had
sympathized that his mentor had been forced out, he had merely
nodded blankly.  And when Fristch had said good-bye, he had
held his tongue.  He merely wished his mentor the best, shook
his hand and took his leave-- ostensibly because he was so upset
about what had happened.  In fact, taking the professor's hand
had been the most difficult thing he had ever wanted to do.  He
had wanted to slap the man, knock him senseless for what he
had perpetrated in his laboratory that fateful evening-- the
evening Ben had returned to the office for his lab notes. 

He shuddered to think of it even now.  Fristch hadn't seen him
of course, but he had seen Fristch and what the maniac was
doing to Heidi, the pretty blonde sophomore who was his part-
time work-study assistant.  No, he didn't want to call Fristch on
this problem.          

But there wasn't anyone else.  Fristch was the preeminent
hardware expert in the field, a brilliant scientist who had been
instrumental in making breakthrough after breakthrough-- the
voice recognition reader, the development of the first patentable
android, among others.  That's what had driven Stein as a
freshman to seek out the great man, then only forty-five.  Fristch
had taken Heidi under his wing and there was no doubt that the
relationship had proven beneficial to the undergraduate. Fristch
approved of the young man's drive and his ego was gratified to
have such a dutiful understudy.  Stein knew the man was an
elitist who placed no value on anything but intellect and that had
been Stein's ace.  The hermit-like researcher took a strong
interest in the very promising student and the rest was history. 
Fristch's clout allowed his protege to skip dull course
requirements and get right to work on the big things that the
professor was working on.  

It had been right around graduation that Fristch had begun to
take the path that would eventually lead him out of the
university.  Ben had noticed the growing pile of journal
clippings on bio-technology, then grown used to the cross-
references to how silicon might be linked to living tissue-- just
theoretically of course.  Then the growing morbidity of the
experiments on frogs, then mice-- trying to link their sensory
centers with synthetic materials to induce pain and pleasure. 
Then that evening, that hideous evening.

Ben had known Heidi.  He didn't think much about her one way
or the other.  She was a blandly pretty blonde from the Midwest
with as much interest in bio-chemistry as she had in the time of
day.  It was simply a way to make some easy work-study
money-- and assisting Dr. Fritsch in his various experiments
was light duty.  But Ben suspected from her miniskirts and tight
sweaters that her real interest lay in more physical activities than
the mental safaris of Dr. Rudolph Fristch.  Which was exactly
why he was so surprised by her behavior changes.     

Till about midpoint in the second semester, Heidi had been her
usual flirtatious self.  Then she had grown withdrawn more and
more.  He saw less of her and Dr. Fristch explained that she
was helping him in the evenings on some "routine work--
nothing you'd be interested in, Ben."  It was that work that Ben
had seen first hand that night.  It was just a short glimpse, but it
had been more than  enough to tell the quick-witted Stein to
realize what Fristch had been doing to the young woman.

He had heard some grunting in the lab and grabbing his notes,
he had poked his head into the lab.  It was dark except for the
instrument board lights and a monitor with an brainscan
wavelength curving up and down continuously.  But Ben could
see Heidi clearly from where he was standing.

She faced him, in fact, though she gave no indication that she
saw him or anybody.  Her face was a silent scream, blue eyes
bulging and mouth agape.  She wore only underwear, a spicy
black lace brassiere and panty set, though the panties lay on the
floor.  Her hands were spread to support her in front, while her
hips were thrust up, bent over the armrest of Fristch's desk
chair.  Her legs were spread wide, which was only necessary
because Fristch was entering her from behind. 

That sight alone might not have prompted Ben's call the next
day.   Many students and faculty had affairs from time to
time...nothing out of the ordinary in that.  But Heidi's expression
had conveyed something which frightened Ben.  And as he
looked closer, he grew even more afraid for the girl.  Because
Fristch's prick wasn't the only thing that was invading her. 
There were tubes stuck in her upper arms, feeding her with a
greenish liquid.  Then there were the wires on her temples
running back to the monitor, keeping track of her awareness
levels.  As the scientist thrust into her from behind, the
wavelength would spike sharply.

"You'll be perfect when I'm done with you, Heidi.  My perfect
lab assistant-- trained to serve by day and give pleasure at
night...or whenever I want it!   The biochem balance is almost
right and the chip implant is taking well!  Uh, you're tight
though!  Stupid as a cow but tight!  There!"  He slammed up
against her ass, his face white.  "That dump of cum is for you,
my pretty little slut!"

Heidi took the offering in silence, her mouth still open, her eyes
still glazed.  But as the scientist withdrew from her, the
bouncing wavelength on the monitor spiked dramatically, then
flatlined.  Heidi slumped, her silent scream degenerating into a
cartoon clown smile.

"Heidi?  Heidi?  Damn you!"  Fristch slapped her ass hard, but
the co-ed didn't move.  "You're breathing, you stupid cow-- I
know that!  Now get up-- your Master commands you! 
Remember your programming!   GET UP!  YOU HAVE TO
OBEY!!!"

Heidi acknowledged her self-proclaimed master with a child-
like giggle.  It was a sound Ben never wanted to hear again-- a
mad, nonsensical sound that denied sanity.  As Fristch cursed
himself, and busily dressed the insensible girl, Ben left quietly. 
And had made the call the next morning at 9:00 am.

Fristch left quietly.  Publicly it was said that he and MIT had
parted over differences in research techniques, the implication
that MIT was stifling the genius.  He left to form his own
consulting business for pharmaceutical, computer and industrial 
companies, though he remained local.  Rumors abounded about
Heidi, though nothing was ever confirmed.  It was said that she
had "suffered a shock" from one of Fristch's experimental
devices involving chemical compounds and weird computer
configurations.  The well-funded university paid the parents
dearly and the poor girl was sent to recuperate in the Midwest,
though in fact no change in her status was ever reported back.

And that was who Ben was going to call for help.  He felt guilt
creep into his wrist as he dialed the number, then put the
receiver down.  No, he'd leave him an e-mail through the
Internet instead.  Relief flooded him.  He turned to the PC
resting on his desktop.  The machine was on-- it was always on-
- and began typing in a message to Fristch.


Dear Dr. Fristch,

Hope you have been well.  Read the article about you in the
Globe today!  Anyway, as you were always interested in the
work I'm doing, I was wondering if you could help by
reviewing my notes.  As you know, I have been continuing my
work in AI, which the university has allowed me to do without
interference.  However, I keep running into hardware
requirement problems.  I know this is an older area of interest
for you, but I would surely appreciate any help you could offer. 
Please find the notes attached.  I look forward to hearing from
you soon.

Dr. Ben Stein


He sent the electronic epistle off into cyberspace without
expectation.   Their contact had been sporadic at best and he
wasn't at all sure if Fristch would help him-- he just couldn't
think of anyone else who could approach the man's genius.  He
shrugged the whole thing off and once again, began his day
puzzling the complexities of his AI program.

He was uncomfortably gratified to see the flashing screen
indicating email when he got into the office the next day.   He
took off his coat and sat down in front of the computer.  The
first message was a message from the Dean, expressing polite
disappointment with Stein's absence at the Regent's event.  He
deleted it without a second thought. And then:

Message 
From Dr. Rudolph Fristch
To Dr. Ben Stein   

He tapped the ENTER key and read the note that materialized:

Ben,
So nice to hear from you!  I'm so pleased that you let me in on
your fuzzy logic project.  I've read the notes and think I can help
you out in terms of your hardware problem.  However, I will
need your source code.

Ben stopped reading.  The source code was the sum product of
the last five years of his working career-- and Fristch wanted it. 
But he had asked for Fristch's help, and he couldn't believe that
Fristch would take the work and claim it for his own.  Of
course not-- all Ben would have to do is show all his notes to
prove Fristch had stolen it.  Besides, Fristch may have had
questionable private ethics, but had always respected the work
of colleagues.  he would send the source code.

BTW, did you see what that twit Amanda Crossways said about
me in that article?  I'm not surprised, but you should know that
she's probably still bitter toward me.  You see a few years ago
she interviewed to be my lab assistant, but I turned her down. 
She just wasn't suitable.  It would seem she is still upset about
it.

Ben grimaced.  Suitable meant blonde, big tits, tight ass and
stupid, right Doctor?  And Amanda, while beautiful, was small
breasted, brunette and exceedingly brilliant.  Not your type at
all Doctor.     

P.S. I know sending the source code will take a while, even
with your 32 bis modem.  Attached is an screen saver to run
while you're uploading.  Think you'll find it interesting.  After
I've received the code, give me a couple of days and I'll get
back to you.  We should have something to talk about by then."

An eye-shaped icon blinked underneath the e-mail, with a
"receipt request pending" prompt.  The big red eye of
"DREAM.EXE" stared at him from the 18" Super VGA active
matrix screen.  Fristch was losing it, to be sending him a screen
saver, for goodness' sake.

Then he remembered he hadn't answered Amanda's e-mail of the
day before.  This message from Fristch reminded him of her
comments in the Globe article.  He accessed the university e-
mail system and began to type.

"Got your mail-- can't do anything this week, but I'll call next
week.  BTW, liked your comment about Fristch-- funny, I
spoke to him today!

Best, Ben"

He clicked on the upload option in the menu and began
transmitting the source code for his AI routines.

The little eye on the screen remained.  He wearily clicked on it,
accepting the application.  "Accept receipt generated"  Fine,
whatever.  Then he saw the eye blink. 

Cool!  He had never seen that before.  He clicked on the icon
and the screen dissolved.  Many hued fractals began to take
form and dance wildly across the huge screen.  There has to be
more than this, Ben thought.  He reclined back into the desk
chair, waiting for more.  Fractal screen savers aren't setting the
world on fire, Dr. Fristch, he thought in annoyance.  How
boring.  So boring, he was falling asleep.  As he dozed off, the
source code flowed smoothly through the T2 phone line and the
fractals continued their zip-zings from edge to edge on the
glowing screen

On another computer screen and pointer crept over a dialog box
button that said "Activate VidSeq #1".  The button was pushed.

A teenage girl, maybe sixteen?  You couldn't see her face, so it
was hard to tell.  Her long blonde hair was tied into two tails
with  cute pink bows, which hung down her short-sleeved
yellow cotton dress.  The tight pull of the dress promised that
the girl would have a super figure when she fully matured.  The
slight swell of the breasts and the sweet curve of her behind was
proof of that.  And even the long white stockings and MaryJane
shining black shoes couldn't hide that she was on her way to
turning many male heads.  Her hands were folded behind her
back and she stood before an adult, a man.  The man was angry. 
Very angry.

"So, did you show him your little pussy?  Did you?"  He
grasped a black leather belt tightly in his red fists.

"Yes Sir," she whined.

"You little slut."   There was no surprise in his deep gravely
voice.  "I knew it.  You're nothing but a filthy little slut-- just
like your mother.  And you let him touch you, didn't you?"

The girl's voice hesitated.  "Y-yes, Daddy."   
    
The man crossed his arms.  "Go on.  Tell me what you let him
do with you-- tell me EXACTLY."

The girl fidgeted.  "He put his finger in me."

"In what?  Your little fuckhole, slut?"

"Please, Daddy!"  She was on the verge of tears now.

He laughed.  "So you let your little boyfriend frig that tight little
pussy of yours, huh?  Did you get wet-- did you get hot when
he fingered you?"

She nodded, trembling.

"What next Sissy?   Did you take his dick in your mouth too? 
Did you let him fuck you?  DON'T LIE TO ME!" he bellowed.

She shook her head indignantly, looking up at him sniffling. 
"No, Daddy-- nothing like that!  I swear!  H e just touched me!"

Again, the man laughed.  "You think the word of a little bitch
like you is worth anything?"  He folded the thick black belt and
snapped it, filling the room with a thunderous clap.  "All right,
Sissy, get your butt over my knee.  It's time you learned what
little sluts get when they disobey their Daddies."

The girl began to cry, though she stifled her tears back as best
as she could.  Like a practised move, she draped herself over
the man's knee and pulled up her dress over her hips.  The man
caressed the pink cotton panties she wore, then viciously yanked
them down, exposing the firm young moons.  He lay the belt on
top of them, then raised it, then let it fall with a loud crack!

"That's for being a little tease and turning on your boyfriend!"

Another painful crack of the belt.

"That's for putting out like a common streetwalker!"

Thwack three!  The girl sobbed hysterically by now.

"And that's for getting your Daddy hot with your tight little ass,
Sissy!"   He dropped the belt on the floor and let his fingers
glide between the prone girl's legs.

"I feel some hair down here.  How long have you had that?"

"Just a year, Daddy!" the girl answered ashamedly.

"You're all slick down her, Sissy.  You like getting punished?  I
bet your boyfriend liked your cute puss hair.  Very nice on a
natural blonde like you, Sissy.  Bet when he finger fucked you,
he just loved feeling your little muff rub against his knuckles,
like THIS!"  The man slipped his middle finger into the girl's
tender orifice.  She moaned.

"If you're going to be giving it away, there's no reason your
stepfather can't have some too, right slut?"

"Y-yes, Daddy!" she choked.  

The man relaxed as he continued to jab his finger in and out of
the now slightly humping sixteen year old girl.  "In fact, I'm
going to make a new rule, Sissy.  No more boyfriends for you
unless and until I say.  If you feel the need to put out, you'll do
it for Daddy, understand?"

She didn't answer, laying still and stunned with horror at the
implications of this new rule.

As the man continued to finger fuck his step-daughter with one
hand, he grasped her breast with the other.

"You'll never be anything more than a piece of trash whore, you
got that?"

"Yes, Daddy!" she answered, tensing with orgasm.

"You're a stupid little fucktoy, Sissy-- just like your mother!"

As he continued to berate the heaving girl cruelly, she gasped
again and again, wracked by orgasm.


WETWARE, Part Two

by Marlissa

Ben woke up.  He felt upset, disturbed.  The light through the
window was bright-- it was noon and he had slept through the
morning!  He looked up at the screen.  The source code was
taking forever to upload.  The fractals were still doing their
crazed salsa on the screen.  He got up, stiff from the chair and
rose to refresh the now-stone cold cup of coffee. 

As he poured, there was a beep from the computer.  He rushed
back, hoping nothing had gone wrong with the data
transmission.  But there was no error message at all.  In the
screen corner was the screen saver icon.  It blinked at him again
with that evil red eye.  Ben sat down, sipped the hot coffee and
looked at the transmit bar.  The blue bar continue to move from
left to right.  "33%" it read.  What a waste of a day, he thought,
as he watched the fractals again.  In two minutes, he was zoned
out.

***************

"Activate VidSeq #2"

***************

The blonde on stage was hot.  Her long curly blonde hair was
loose and big, her blue eyes both innocent and burning all at
once.  Her mouth was pouting, painted and red-lipped full and
as she danced on the stage before the raucous crowd of men,
she pursed them continuously, giving mock kisses away by the
dozens.  Her body was healthy enough to draw the catcalls from
the audience at every turn and twist.  It had better be if she
wanted to keep this job.  It was a 34C-29-32 trim long-legged
figure stuffed into a tiny black lace push-up bra and a matching
pair of black lace thongs.  She worked her body to the limit,
knowing an extra pound in the wrong place meant demotion. 
And she had worked so hard to advance from lap dancer to
center stage star at Bernie's Bimbo Revue.

"Gentlemen," the speakers announced in the murky smoke-filled
bar, "For your entertainment pleasure, I am pleased to present
one of the hottest little babes in my stable of bimbos-- Sissy
"Melts In Her Mouth, Not In Your Hands" The Slut!"

She pranced out in her black high heels, putting an extra spin in
her hips as she strut for the men.  As the males of all ages
laughed at her and even occasionally slipped a dollar in her tiny
thong, she smiled widely and gratefully.  She gave them all the
same expression, the same feeling that Bernie had taught her. 
"Make 'em think they're all going to get lucky if they so much
as give you a look, Sissy.  Make 'em believe that you can't wait
to get it on with them.  That you'd love to put out for 'em.  Then
you'll get the big tips," Bernie had told her.   And Bernie was so
smart and nice, the way he looked out for her.  She didn't have
to put out any more than any of his other girls AND he even let
her keep some of the tips.  Who could beat that?  Sometimes,
Sissy left at closing with almost twenty dollars in her
pocketbook!

As she gave her on-lookers a wide-mouthed "aren't I just a
naughty girl?" smile, she scanned the audience for Him.  She
had to be careful.  Bernie didn't put up with any nonsense on
stage.  So she refocused on her admirers, and began to massage
her big ripe breasts through the sheer wall of the brassiere's
black lace cup.  The underwiring gave her boobs an exaggerated
lift and she just loved playing with them for her customers.  A
man hooked her a finger and she scampered over to him.  He
stuffed a grimy bill through the crotch of her panties, wedging
the bill between her legs.  She felt the greasy green bill against
her smoothly shaved pussy underneath the little thong.  She
gave the man an "only for you" leer and slipped her finger
underneath the panty, pretending to finger herself.  The man
smiled back, turned to his buddy and whispered something in
his ear.  Both men gave up short snide laughs as they looked at
her.  Sissy just smiled back innocently.

There HE was!  He had just sat down in one of the tables in the
back.  As usual he was wearing  an expensive suit of
immaculate tailoring.  Probably worth more than most of these
guys make in a week, she thought excitedly.  She smiled,
showing him her perfect white teeth, aiming the smile at him
and he alone.  He caught her eyes, a slight fire stirring behind
those calm, observant eyes of his.

The music was picking up tempo, which meant her act was
almost over.  She still had to strip off her bra, she thought in
alarm!  She slipped the shoulder straps off, one then the other,
with silky shy care.  At last the bra was ready to come off and
she coyly unhooked the front snap.  She closed her eyes and
unhooked the snap, letting her full breasts bounce out.  The men
went wild.

"Great tits baby!"

"Check out the melons on this bitch!"

"Shake 'em baby, shake 'em!"

She complied with the command, lifting her arms and shaking
the pair with all her might.  As the music climaxed, she covered
her chest with the discarded bra, meekly said 'thank you, sir" to
each and every one of the men who had toss bills on the stage,
and hurried off, just as the next girl took her place.

Bernie was waiting for her.  She obediently handed over all the
crumpled bills.  As Bernie counted them, he spoke to her.

"Your boyfriend is at table 12.  He wants you.  Do what he
says, but stay in the bar.  If I catch you leaving with him, I'll tan
your ass, Sissy.  Got it?"

Sissy nodded in glee.  
 
"Good.  Then get your ass out there."

"Bernie," she pouted, "may I put on something else
first...please?"  She didn't want to wear this for Him.

He waved her off.  "Whatever.  Just make it hot and don't keep
him waiting."

She rushed back to the dressing room.  Amid the bump and
crush of the other dancers, she slipped off the slutty black bra
and panty.  She eagerly picked through the lingerie pile all the
girls shared, fishing out a pretty pink pair of ruffled panties and
a cute tight white bustiere.   Then she kicked off her black heels
and slipped into a less-dramatic pair of three inch heeled pink
pumps.  Dashing herself with cheap perfume, she bravely
strutted out to greet her favorite customer.

He was such a gentleman, a doctor no less!  So different from
the other men at the club in the way he spoke to her, treated her. 
Not different in the way he expected her to act for him-- when it
came to that, he was just like any other man!  But what made
Sissy feel so special was that when he could have had any other
girl (or girls for that matter!) at the club, it was Sissy he asked
for!  It was so special, even romantic!  And he would buy her
from Bernie in between every act, so that he would have her lap
dance just for him!  She let him have any liberty he wanted to
take with her in the club, once even crawling under the table to
take him in her mouth!  Bernie had demanded an extra twenty
from him for that!

Oh, she fantasized about him taking her away, and he promised
to sometimes, after he had drunk a few cocktails.  She loved
nuzzling close to him in the dark of the grimy men's club,
licking his earlobes as he felt her up.    How wonderfully
special she felt when he told her she was the hottest dancer
there, that she had the biggest breasts, the tightest ass!  She
couldn't wait to see him.

She put on her saddest, sexiest "I missed you!" smile and
minced over to his table.  He smiled, teeth flashing white in the
dark.  Daintily, she stepped up onto the table and began to table
dance for him.  And as she abandoned her inhibitions, shaking
her hips and thrusting out her chest for his pleasure, she hoped
once again that this time, maybe just maybe, if she was extra
sexy, he would pay Bernie the hundred dollars.  The hundred
dollars that would give him the right to use her-- anyway he
wanted-- in the special bedroom upstairs in the club.

"Dance, little Sissy, dance for your sugardaddy," he
commanded, and she did just that.

**************************

It was dark outside when Ben awoke with a start.  The old
round wall clock's hands pointed to four o'clock.  He had slept
through most of the day!   How?  Was he ill?  He ought to get
to the campus clinic, get ooked at right away.  As he rose, he
checked the computer screen.  Programmer's habit, he shrugged. 
Good thing he checked too, because Fristch wasn't getting his
transmission.

ERROR WHILE DOWNLOADING
TRY DOWNLOAD FROM PREVIOUS ERROR?

He looked at the blue bar.  It had stretched all the way to the
97% point.  Almost done.  He could wait the few minutes this
would take, then get to the clinic.  Ben wearily hit the enter key,
hoping this would finish up this endless task.
 
As he did, the screen went dark.  Great!  He hit the escape key,
hoping to return to the application.  But as he did, the color-
crazed fractals began their infinitely varying dance.

************************* 

"Activate VidSeq #3"  The command was caught and recorded
by the digital voice recognization box and obeyed by the
computer, which initiated the last visual transmission.

*************************

Sissy's ass was beet red.  The belt just continued to fall harder
and harder and she was crying like a baby, without pride or
hesitation.  Crying only made it worse, but she couldn't help it. 
She clutched the kitchen counter tightly as he landed another
vicious one squarely on her backside.  She was bent over the
counter, her regulation panties down around her ankles and her
legs spread at a twenty degree angle.  Her cheek pressed against
the cold surface of the countertop while her hands held the short
hem of her uniform up over her hips.  Her backside, the target
of the correction, was conveniently stuck to receive belt crack
after belt crack.

"There!  I don't think we'll do that again, will we, Sissy?" he
asked confidently.

She had to stop shaking and respond.  "N-no, Sir!  Never
again!"  She remained bent over, sobbing against the hard
counter top, cheeks burning.

"Ah, but that's what you said last time, didn't you?  Why should
I believe you now?"

"I-I really, REALLY learned my lesson this time Sir, and I
promise it won't happen again!"

He rubbed her bare ass tenderly.  "Of course.  And what won't
happen again?  I want you to say it, so you understand just what
a little strumpet you really are."

She gulped.  "I won't touch myself again, Sir."

"It's more than touching.  What won't you do again?"

She had stopped crying and her words were contrite, ashamed. 
"I won't...finger myself again-- Sir."

He patted her ass.  "You know, as your master, I have every
right to continue to punish you.  Naughty maids like you NEED
correction.  But I feel kindly today, so I won't."

She sighed. He could be kind at times.  Not often but it
happened.

He continued to fondle her backside, running his palms over the
wide smooth curves.  "You MAY finger yourself, Sissy, IF you
FIRST ask PERMISSION.  Do you understand?"

She shook her head dutifully, her long wavy blonde hair
bouncing in quick agreement with this wise new rule.

"Then repeat it, so I know you understand."

She cleared her throat, then sweetly answered "I know that I
may finger myself, but only when you give me permission, Sir."

He patted her ass affectionately.  "Good little slut.  You have a
tight ass, did you know that Sissy?  Of course," he continued,
"you knew that.  That's why you're always shaking it to turn
your boss on.  Why even now you're turning me on."

Sissy giggled.  She rocked her hips from side to side, spreading
her legs wider.  Turning the Master on was better than anything
else-- better than doing her household work, better than getting
punished, better even than fingering herself.  She felt herself
wetten between the legs.  Whenever the Master was ready,
Sissy was ready to accommodate him.

She heard him unzip his zipper, then his strong hands on her
hips.  He forced her forward, his cocktip rubbing against her
steamy snatch.  Sissy wriggled her hips, hoping to excite the
long, thick visitor.  She dropped her hand between her legs to
spread the juice-slicked lips of her smooth bare mound.  Make
it easy for him, she thought, as she offered the wet hole up for
the Master's hard cock.

But the Master had another target.  Ignoring the hot wet
pussyhole, the prick rubbed up against the tighter orifice of her
netherhole.  Sissy clenched her teeth as she felt the unstoppable
penetration fill her from behind.  It hurt so much, so much, so
much!  She felt her eyes tear under the harsh assault, but the
Master wasn't in the least interested in her suffering.

"Tight bitch!  This is all you're good for, you know that?  To be
an open hole for me to use-- got that slut?  GOT THAT??!!"

"Yes Sir!  Please, not so hard!" she begged.

He sneered as he drove home even harder.  "Keep your mouth
shut, you stupid slut.  You love it-- don't tell me you don't! 
You need this cock up that tight ass of yours every so often to
remind you of your place!  Ugh!  So tight!"

Sissy did need it and she knew that.  She could get uppity and
forget her station and that was bad.  The cock was splitting her
in two!  There he goes again, she thought as her master rammed
her tight hole with thick male member.  It hurt, but it was a
good hurt, she knew, a hurt that she was lucky to feel.  Master
could have chosen any girl to be his personal maid but he had
picked Sissy.  Being used this way was a small price to pay for
the privilege of serving him.  He was the most desirable,
brilliant man in the world and she was just a floozie like he said
all the time.  Ow!  His cock was sooo big in her now!

"Tell me you're a slut, Sissy!"

She quivered.  "I'm a slut, Master!"

"Who's slut, Sissy?"  His hands were pulling on her breasts
now, milking them fiercely as he continued to plug her ass.  

She was getting so close now.  So close.  He never failed to
give her an orgasm, even when the sex hurt, when it was
degrading like this.  "I'm YOUR slut, Master!"

"Then cum, you piece of trash.  Cum for your Master! Cum!" 
And with that, he exploded in her ass, filling her with his bolt of
manjuice.

She complied with his order, promptly heaving and gasping
with an explosive orgasm of her own, shaking in the grip of his
hands and shaking in spasms.  Tears of joy fell from her face,
even as she felt, in sublime depression, his limp cock leave her
ass. 

He pushed off and out of her roughly.  "Now, let's get that
pretty maid mouth to work.  Down on your knees, girlie."

She wettened her lips and dropped to her fours.  

********************

It was the ringing phone that brought Ben Stein back to
consciousness.  His eyes flashed over the clock.  Six o'clock! 
he had spent the entire day at his desk sleeping!

"Hullo?" he asked the receiver groggily.  The monitor prompt
read "Transmission Complete!"

"Ben!  I'm delighted I got you!  I received the source code and
have been evaluating it this afternoon!"  It was Fristch.

"Oh?  Good, I'm glad."  He shook off the wavy sleepiness.  "It
took a lot longer than I would have thought.  Anyway, I'm eager
to hear what you think of it once you've had a chance to review
it."

The crisp arrogant voice mocked him.  "Review it?  I've already
done that-- and I think I have the solution."  

 "Already?"  Ben squelched the surprise in his voice-- he knew
how gratifying it was to Fristch's ego.  "Oh, well, then I
suppose you know why the hardware can't keep up with the
software speeds then, since you've reviewed it and all."  He
allowed a small tinge of sarcasm to color the comment.

Fristch laughed good-naturedly.  "Most assuredly, my boy. 
Come over for a glass of wine and we'll go over it."

Ben shrugged.  The day was shot anyway and he could wrap
this all up at once.  "Fine.  I'll be over in twenty minutes."

********************

Fristch handed him a glass of fine Merlot as soon as he had
taken off his jacket.  As always, the way Fristch found ecstasy
in his discovery of knowledge was oddly seductive.  It was
what had always drawn him to the secretive academic, probably
what attracted Amanda as well.  Ben wanted to know what this
man knew and he wanted to know without regard to pride.

"So, Doctor, what have you discovered?  What's the answer to
the puzzle of why my neural net routine won't work?"

Fristch shook a finger.  "First I must tell you what I have
discovered about the pieces of the puzzle before I put them
together for you.  You were close," he added admiringly, "very
close.  In fact your routine is flawless-- it can quite adequately
simulate a human personality."   He shrugged mischievously. 
"Although I did take the liberty of adding a few enhancements,"
his shoulders hunched in self-congratulations," it is a basically
sound program.  It converts emotional stimuli into fuzzy logic
patterns and could serve as a useful filter for working with any
computer."

"Could?  It will!" exclaimed Stein, pleased with this positive
pronouncement.

Dr. Fristch nodded.  "But the problem is that at higher levels of
sophistication, your program can't work.  That is why your tests
show failure.  It is a hardware problem, as you said."

Stein slumped in the chair.  He had spent all day to hear
confirmed what he already knew.  He put the half-drunk glass
of wine down and rose.  "Thank you Doctor.  I appreciate your
efforts."

The older researcher waved him down.  "Please, have you that
little faith in your old teacher?  I have more-- much more-- to
tell.  Finish your wine and listen."

Ben did so.  The wine was good, as his woozy-growing head
could testify.

"Now then, the hardware-- yes,  it was impossible for current
existing hardware to run the program.  As you know, my
studies have moved on from strictly silicon based investigation,
though."

"Your biology work, Doctor?" Ben asked curiously.  Where
was Fristch going with all this?

The graying doctor frowned.  "I have coined the phrase
'biomechanics' actually.  You see, the body is nothing more than
an amazingly intricate piece of hardware.  Following it's design,
one can create infinitely more interesting, more durable
hardware."

Ben nodded.  "Are you talking about robotics?"

"Not quite.  Let me show you something.  Can you stand?"

Ben rose to his feet.  The wine was gone, but the dizziness was
a reminder.  No more drinking for a while.  He must be getting
a cold for alcohol to hit him this way.  As he followed Fristch to
an upstairs laboratory, the professor continued.

"You see Ben, robotics can give you a wonderful replica of the
human form, but it is much like a fourth generation photograph
or copy-- it gives you the likeness, but not the texture, the feel
of the original.  That is where biomechanics comes in."

The stairs were so steep.  It took all Ben's energy to raise his
foot from one to the other.  But Fristch was patient, stopping
with you at each step on the way to the closed door at the top of
the landing.

"Funny thing is that I thought originally it would be possible to
do what you're doing in design theory.  Implant a personality
into a living brain using silicon-based technology.  Utterly a
failure-- even if you hadn't stumbled into my lab that night, I
doubt I would have continued that line of research at the
University."

Ben opened his mouth, but it was cotton-dry.

Fristch kindly answered the unarticulated question.  "Oh, I
know you gave the Dean the tip-- I had cameras to film my little
experiment with that girl, Heidi?  It has been so long.  Anyway,
I don't hold it against you too much.  As I said the experiment
wasn't working out.  It was a stick mess to pull out all those
implanted chips though!"  He smiled in rememberance of that
chore.  "Anyway, the silicon theory was right, but the behavioral
patterns weren't.  that's where your work has proven such a
boon!  Are you feeling all right?" he stopped and asked
solicitously.

Ben started to stumble, but the older man caught him.  He was
surprisingly strong for an older man, Ben thought nonsensically.

"Come on, my boy!  You've yet to hear my solution!  And you
should, since it was your contribution that made it possible! 
You see, you wanted a software fuzzy logic program that
would simulate human thought, but you found your hardware
inadequate for the task.  I wanted to create a perfectly
programmable human being to assist me in my endeavors, but
found my own software element insufficient.  So you see?"

Ben wanted to scream, but he couldn't.  Fristch held him in what
seemed an iron grip.  They were standing outside the shut door.

"Sorry about the tranquilizer.  I think I may have dosed that
wine with too much.  Rather powerful-- you know they use it
on the bigger lab specimens, like gorillas and the like.  Anyway,
the solution as I'm sure you've recognized is pure genius, is the
obvious-- my biomechanical plus your programmable equals a
first in the marriage of hardware and software."  He opened the
door.  What Ben saw on the table made him try to scream, try to
burn his throat with anger and horror and outrage.

"I call it wetware.  You like?  I know I will!  Sweet dreams
Ben."  And the doctor's inoculation sent him into a dreamless
dark from which Ben Stein never really ever awoke.

************************

He could feel the cold metal table underneath him.  His head
was still a clash of throbs and aches, but he was conscious.  The
bright examination light above made him blink.

"Up at last I see!"  It was the bright cheery voice of Dr. Fristch.

Ben felt a jolt rush through him.  Fristch!  Madman!  Something
he had seen before being like this!  He swung himself up
unsteadily, but his arms brushed up against an impediment.  He
looked down.  It was a large pink breast, complete with an inch
long nipple, obviously aroused in the cold lab air.  He was still
clinically considering the misplaced breast when he realized it
protruded lewdly from his own chest.  He tried to yell, but a
soprano shriek came out instead.

He jumped off the table, instinctively covering his newly
discovered pair of breasts.  As he did, he felt a rush of the cold
air between his legs and sensed something was wrong there too. 
There was.  Where a male member should have hung, there was
now the pink, blondish dewed cleft of a vagina!  He looked up
at Fristch in outrage!  Fristch had given him a sex change
operation!

Fristch just smiled blandly at his creation.

"How could you do this to me?"  Stein demanded shrilly.  He
hated this new voice.  He left fly with his small right hand,
feeling the long nails bite softly into his palm.  

But Fristch caught the hand easily-- too easily.  He gently
forced the hand back to the naked breast from where it had
come.  That shouldn't have been that easy for him to do, Ben
thought wildly.  

"You aren't as physically capable as you used to be-- you're
weaker  and more dainty, even for your size.  Sorry, but I
couldn't take the chance you'd disobey.  I need to be able to
enforce discipline without fear of retribution.  You're even more
sensitive to cold, touch, well...everything.  That way, you'll be
less likely to earn yourself a spanking or worse."  He continued
to examine the female body, then to prove his point, he reached
out and pulled on one of the hidden nipples.  

Ben screeched, but couldn't pull the doctor's hands off.  Finally,
when the pain was white hot, he let go.

"Amazing!" Fritsch muttered.  "Ah!  Well, this has worked out
well!  Come, see your new self in the mirror!"  he forcibly led
Ben over to a mirror on the wall.  Ben's eyes grew wide with
utter disbelief.

The reflection bore no resemblance to his former self.  The
forced transformation was an amazing feat in itself.  He could
not guess at how Fristch had manipulated his body the way he
had. Hours ago, he had been five' 8", 165 pounds, brown eyed,
dark complected with black trimmed hair.  What looked back at
him was a 5' 4" blonde with wavy shoulder-length hair weighing
no more than 110 pounds.  Fristch had even handled the 'natural'
blonde fur down below.  The blonde's body was that of a nubile
centerfold model-- Ben guessed that the reflection's
measurements were 34C-28-36.  The eyes were big, blue and
doe-like, the red full lips at sharp contrast with the pale creamy
white skin.  The nose was small and upturned, the chin sculpted
and pointy.  The girl was perhaps twenty at most, a young Kim
Bassinger.  There was no indication that the inhabitor of the
body was male.

"You won't get away with this," Ben sniped back.  He hated
how petulant and weak he sounded.  "I'll get a surgeon to
reverse this.  If you could twist my body into this, there's
someone who can turn it right again."

Fristch shook his head.  "No, you can't.  Because I didn't do
anything to your body.  Why it's right over there!"  He pointed
to a lump underneath a tarp.  "Take a last look-- I'm dumping it
down the refuse chute.  You know," his eyes twinkled evily," it
isn't safe to keep medical waste around for long!"

Ben ran to the lump, pulled back the tarp and shuddered.  Sanity
hung in the balance as Fristch explained in his patient, bored
way.

"Yes, that's you-- sort of."  

He heaved the body into the open fiery chute, pushing the
frantic nude girl away.  Ben cried as he watched the body fall
deeper down the chute, till it finally disappeared into the
furnace below.

"Bye, bye Ben Stein."  The scientist turned to the crouching,
weeping girl.  "Hello Sissy."

The girl looked up, at once familiar with the name and confused
by it.

Fristch patted her soft hair.  "I'll explain, cute stuff.  You see,
the hard part of the problem wasn't building the body I wanted. 
This one has been built for a while, ever since I mastered the
essentials of biomechanics.  Don't worry-- it's a fully
functioning human body, with full senses, in a state of complete
health.  Underneath is a complex set of robotic motors,
computers and optic connectors, but you won't ever feel like a
machine.  Even the hair will grow naturally.  By the way, I want
you to keep your pussy shaved.  Anyway, except for being
more sensitive, you're identical to a human girl of twenty-four
or so.  
Of course, building the body wouldn't accomplish what I
wanted-- a being with emotions and thoughts.  That's where you
came in.  As you discovered, which I did years ago, you can't
build a software routine that will replicate human thinking.  The
hardware you were looking for exists in only one form-- the
human brain.  Thus-- wetware, as I mentioned earlier.

But, there was still the problem of control.  That's where your
fuzzy logic came into play.  You see, I need your emotions and
thoughts, but I must form them into the shape I want.  Like the
parts that make up your artificial body, I had to fashion your
thoughts, hopes, dreams, and feelings.

So, I transmitted you memories of my creation-- memories that
would give you the persona I desire.  You received those
memories  while sending me your routine.  Downloading your
brain into the body was easy."  Fristch might have been giving a
symposium on the subject, so calm was he.

Ben looked up.  "What am I?  And why did you call me Sissy?"

Fristch smiled, lips thin as knives.  "Because I want you to
remember a part of you is male, even while you service me just
like a two dollar whore.  Because you betrayed me.  That's why
your name is 'Sissy', bitch.  Because I think it's a good little
private joke-- don't you?"

"So I'm an android now?" Ben asked, head in both hands crying.

"A cyborg technically, but let's call you my love doll-- that's the
best descriptor I can think of."  

Ben looked up, steely eyed.  "You can't make me!  I'll resist! 
I'll escape when you're not looking!  I won't make this easy for
you!"

Fristch chuckled, shaking his head.  "Oh really?"  He unzipped
his trouser fly and pulled out his cock.  "Come kiss, Sissy. 
Come on-- be a good little bitch and take my bone in your
mouth!"  He snapped his fingers.

Ben felt his outrage dissolve into nothingness.  He dropped to
his knees and scampered forward, mouth open, tongue licking
the lips to prepare them.  A thrilling shudder told the captive
brain that the body it now lived in was completely and slavishly
aroused.  Already there was a hungry wetness between those
long smooth legs.

As he approached, his wavy blonde tresses hanging down in
front of his eyes, the cock was withdrawn.  Disappointment
echoed inside.  Looking up, the only thing seen was the
mocking leer of the older scientist.

"Poor Sissy!"

He covered his bare chest and sat up.  Numbly the blonde
cocked her head and gave the Doctor a kittenish look, unable to
express her disappointment in words.

"You can't help it, Sissy.  I've fitted you with a voice
recognition device that is activated by certain intonations and
words in my voice-- and only MY voice.  You can't disobey. 
You may not like everything I do to you-- I hope not, how
boring that would be.  But you will do everything I tell you. 
That in conjunction with your memory implants.  Let me show
you, it will amaze you.  Sissy," he cleared his throat, "where
were you before I took you in?"

Comprehension spread over her pale, pretty face.  "I was a
dancer."

Fristch sneered at this.  "What kind of dancer, Sissy?"

She hesitated.  "A table dancer, Sir," she admitted shamefully.

"And before that?"

"I--uh, ran away from home, Sir."  Her voice was small now.

"Why?"

Tears filled her eyes.  "My stepfather was raping me."  She
covered her chest, shivering.

"Because you were turning him on, right Sissy?" Fristch
pushed.

She shook her head helplessly.  "I guess so, Sir."

"So you deserved it, didn't you?  Deserved to be treated like a
hot little tramp, that is," he demanded severely.

She sobbed, clutching her knees in a fetal position.  "Yes, Sir, I
did!  I did deserve it!  I-I DO deserve it!  Oh, I'm so confused!"

The older man patted her on her fluffy mane.  "Poor child! 
Well, I guess you're a very lucky girl to find someone willing to
take you in, aren't you?"

Sissy nodded.  She was ever so lucky, Ben thought.  She could
have wound up as a drug addict or a--

"Prostitute.  That's right, Sissy.  I know just what's going on in
that empty head of yours."  He shrugged ironically.  "After all, I
put it there!  So, you'll be a perfectly good little maid for me,
won't you?"

Sissy looked up.  Ben's mind was a powerless spectator, a
parallel observer of this spectacle.  As Sissy nodded sweetly to
her boss the Doctor, her nipples erect in the cold air of the lab,
Ben felt a wave of nauseous shame roll over his pride.  He had
to ask why.  Breaking through the layers of submissively
programmed behavior was suprisingly easy.  

"Why?"  The voice was Sissy's-- high pitched and Betty Boop-
ish-- but the question was Ben's.

The Doctor answered, not in the patronizing tone he had used
earlier, but with stridency.  "Because I can.  Because there is no
reason why a mind such as mine should be hampered by the
foolish, time-wasting search for bodily pleasure."  His
intelligent eyes darkened and narrowed.  "No more experiments
with pretty nitwits like Heidi.  I have found my perfect
companion-- built specifically to my requirements and needs." 
Fristch clamped his hand roughly on Sissy's breasts, pushing her
small hands away.
    
"This body is mine-- perfect and timeless.  You won't grow old. 
These breasts won't sag, your vagina will remain tight as a
drum-- as will your ass.  No wrinkles will mar your pretty face. 
You'll feel every caress bring you to a higher state of ecstasy,
every spank feel like ten.  

And your mind will remain sharp and practised, because in
addition to your maid's and other duties," he smiled widely,
"you will serve as my lab assistant.  Because Ben, you were my
most promising student and I have need of a good mind to help
me win my Nobel prize."

The thought caused Sissy to gasp in horror.

Fristch toyed with the nipple, never looking up.  "Yes, I will
win a Nobel with your help-- only my just reward.  And you
will serve as my private little whore when we're not working.  If
you haven't noticed already, your conscious mind is not
affected-- it is the memories and emotions which I've harnessed
your mind with.  So you'll be the ideal companion for a middle
aged scientist like me-- a blonde bimbo who loves to suck my
cock in the morning and do differential equations in the
afternoon!  Hot, sensual flesh ruled by silicon and artificial
logic.  And I have you to thank for all of it Ben-- if it hadn't
been for your work, I shouldn't be able to do any of this!" 

Sissy remained still as she/he considered this.  Even so, Fristch's
fondling was causing him/her to grow wet between the legs.  


Fristch yanked Sissy up.  "Come, girl.  It's time I acquainted
you with your new lingerie collection.  I've been looking
forward to a private modeling show for some time.  I'm sure
your old dancing moves will be quite amusing when we get that
firm, young body of your's into some of the skimpy little items
I've bought for you!"

Despite the enormity of everything that had happened, Sissy
could only think of one thing-- what would happen when her
modeling show for the Doctor was over.  She tingled with that
combination of fear and longing she had always felt since she
was a teenager.  And when Fristch cupped his hand on her
round cupcake rear cheek, he could feel the slick trickling from
between the legs.


WETWARE, Part Three

by Marlissa



Amanda Crossways's thumb remained on the doorbell for thirty
seconds before she finally heard a pattering behind the door.  A
lock's knob was turned and deadbolt pulled back, but the door
swung opened only a few inches.  Two young blue eyes flashed
suspiciously out at her over the chain.

"Yes?"  A girl, perhaps twenty, and suspicious.

"Doctor Fristch, please."

"Do you have an appointment, Ma'am?"  The last word was
pulled out grudgingly.

"Look, just tell him I'm here.  He'll see me."

A haughty, full lipped smile now.  "Not without an
appointment, Ma'am!"  She started to push the door shut, but
Amanda went right back to the doorbell.

"Please leave!  The Doctor is very busy with his work!"  The
girl protested protectively.

"Tell him Amanda, make that Doctor, Crossways is here to see
him in regard to Ben Stein."

The eyes batted back at her nervously.  A moment's hesitation,
then a small nod.  "One minute please."  

Does she know something? Amanda wondered briefly, then the
door chain was removed, allowing her entry into the Fritsch's
combination brownstone and laboratory.  The blonde gestured
her to enter.  Now that Amanda could see her, she wondered if
her timing was right after.  The girl, a pretty thing, was nervous
and dressed in a white lab coat that fell barely below her hips 
and white five inch high heels.  As Amanda followed her, she
was almost certain that the lab coat didn't hide a shorter
miniskirt.

Fristch welcomed her with a polite, curious smile.  "Amanda! 
So nice to see you!  I hear so much about your work in
biochemistry!  Please sit!"

Amanda took a seat.  

"A drink?" Fristch asked, all hospitality.  You'd never know he
was a goddamn pervert, Amanda brooded.  She hated being
here already.  She nodded, accepting a glass of wine.

Fristch snapped his fingers.  "A glass of the Bordeaux, Sissy,
for our guest."  Sissy obediently spun around.  "My lab
assistant," he explained.  Amanda noted the exaggerated swing
of the girl's hips as she sauntered out of the room.

"You have your lab assistant fetch drinks, Doctor?  Really!  I
would think you put your help to better uses than that!" Amanda
chided him.

The scientist smiled.  "Oh, I do, Amanda-- I do."  The inference
was so obvious, she was not meant to miss it.

The girl, Sissy, returned with the wine glass, handing it to
Amanda.  As she bent down, Amanda could see that underneath
the lab coat, Sissy wore a white lace push-up bra-- and nothing
else.  Fristch patted his knee and Amanda watched
uncomfortably as the girl pranced gleefully, taking his knee as
her seat and bowing her head.

"Why are you looking at Sissy, Amanda?  DO you find her
attractive?" Fristch queried innocently.

"If you're implying I'm a lesbian Doctor, your sense of humor
doesn't match your reputed genius.  No," she continued acidly,
"what I'm watching is a silly sexist who has obviously hired a
live-in prostitute.  I'm disappointed, Doctor.  Couldn't you do a
little better?  I mean paying for it?"  She sipped her wine,
returning his amused grin evenly.  The guy was weird.  Very
weird.

Sissy crossed her legs and Amanda could see a small flash of
white lace panty.  He's got her in a thong for God's sakes!

"Oh, Sissy isn't paid-- and she isn't a prostitute, though she
could make her way in the world as one with this body.  I mean,
she's so busty and all."  Sissy simpered in joy at the
compliment, heaving her bosom up.

Amanda blushed.  Her breasts had always been small and she
often wondered how many men she might have attracted had
they been larger.  She felt stupid about it-- with an IQ of 165,
she was worried about her breast size.  And Fritsch knew it--
was baiting her about it.  She downed a hot swallow of the red
Bordeaux.

"Sure, Doctor.  Whatever.  I'm sure your bimbo there is a
proverbial rocket scientist, right?"

Fritsch stroked Sissy's thigh, pushing the lab coat high on her
leg.  It was now obvious that she wore a thong panty at most.  

"Well, she IS a bimbo, but Sissy is a smart little girl.   Sissy," he
turned to the girl, "what is the relationship between Metzen's
Fourth Law of Implied Logic and the speed of the enhanced
Alpha chip?"

Sissy batted her long lashes.  "The law explains how the chip is
able to accommodate a billion plus instruction set, Doctor.  It is
the basis of the current development of 4GLs and a re-
examination of bubble memory technology, once abandoned in
the seventies."

Amanda was struck at the lucidity of the answer and the lispy,
breathy way in which it was given.  Like a call girl with a PhD. 
She squirmed uncomfortably at the thought and as she did, she
felt an long object in the folds of the chair cushion.  She reached
down and was even more outraged at what she found.  It was a
pink eight inch vibrator!
     
"Sissy!" Fristch boomed.  The girl jumped off her perch on his
lap.  "How many times have I told you to put your toys away
when you're done playing with them?"

Sissy pursed her lips contritely, blushing a deep burgundy.  "I'm
sorry Doctor."

"I'm so embarrassed, Amanda.  My apologies-- you know good
help is SO hard to find.  Sissy, go put your plaything in your
toybox and come right back so we can take care of this!"  Sissy
obeyed, taking the offending vibrator from a disgusted Dr.
Amanda Crossways and disappeared.

"What are you going to do, Doctor?" Amanda asked, fascinated
despite her outrage.

"Punish her, of course," Fritsch answered smoothly.  "I can't let
her get away with this nonsense."  

Sissy returned, playing with the hem of her lab coat anxiously. 
Fristch addressed her sternly. 

"You've embarrassed me, Sissy, in front of Dr. Crossways.  I'm
most upset.  Do you agree with me that you deserve to be
punished?"

"Yes, Doctor," she answered pathetically.

"And how many paddles do you think this indiscretion deserves,
missy?"

Amanda winced at the last.  "You're going to SPANK her?  Are
you for real?"

Fristch didn't answer.  "How many?" he repeated.

"Five?" Sissy begged hopefully.

He shook his head.  "Ten I think is more appropriate, though for
our guest, we will keep your panties on."  He shifted his knee
and already trembling, Sissy obediently draped herself over it,
pulling up her lab coat to reveal a tiny white lace thong, which
barely covered the bulbed cleft between the long pale legs.

Amanda watched in a silent cloud of sympathy, anger,
frustration as she watched the near nude girl get spanked by
Fritsch.  I have to remember why I'm here, she told herself. 
Ignore this for now, help her later.  I have to find out what
happened to Ben.  At last, the sniffling blonde was allowed to
rise to her high heeled feet.

Fristch gave her a last swat on the rump.  "Now get that pretty
butt of yours in the kitchen and start my dinner, Sissy!"  The girl
minced quickly and gratefully out of the room.

"Now, where were we?"

Keep control.  He's taunting you.  Why, I don't know, but he is.   
"I came to ask what you know about the disappearance of Ben
Stein, Dr. Fristch."

"Missing?  I had no idea! I had heard he left MIT, but missing?" 
Fristch loved knowing that Sissy's spanking had nettled this
uppity girl.  He knew she was a feminist, which was why he
had staged the whole thing.  Especially this one.  She was
bright, but her insufferably superior attitude was exactly why he
had refused to let her become his assistant at the university.  He
despised feminists-- they had made a mess of academic
research.  Poor Sissy probably even thought she had left her
vibrator in the seat, even though he had done it himself. 

She shook her head at this.  "Doctor, he wouldn't leave without
saying something to someone.  His apartment is cleaned out and
his office and lab is empty.  The Dean says--"

"The Dean said he was unreliable and a prima donna-- happy to
be rid of him, I heard," Fristch informed her.

She shook her head again.  "No, no!  He was so involved in his
work-- he wouldn't have just left.  Anyway, I know he spoke to
you a while back and, since it was right before he disappeared, I
thought he might have said something."  Why was he so jumpy
now?

"Did I speak to him?  Why would you think that?" Fristch asked
carefully.

Amanda handed him the printed e-mail from Ben.  "See?  So
what did he say?"

Fritsch straightened the press of his trousers.  "Oh, I couldn't
say, really.  It was a few weeks ago."  He rose, the discussion
closed.  

She rose jerkily, still confused.  "Well, if you think of anything-
-"

"Yes, yes.  I'll get your coat, since Sissy's fixing dinner."  He
brusquely passed by her.  "I think she put it upstairs."

As soon as he was out of sight, Amanda tiptoed into the kitchen. 
The blonde was busily preparing the nightly meal.  She looked
up cluelessly.

"Yes, Ma'am?"  Ever helpful, ever subservient.  She had
changed from her lab coat into a skimpy maid's outfit, a black
tafetta and white lace thing which looked more like a bedroom
garment than a utilitarian outfit.   
         
"Look," Amanda blustered quickly, "I don't know what this,"
she pointed at the tiny skirt and tight bodice, "is all about, but it
isn't worth it.  Come with me, here's my card-- call me.  We'll
figure out a way to get you on your feet.  No woman deserves
to be treated this way, like some" she spat disgustedly, "love
doll or something.  I have to go, because he's coming back, but
call me!"  Without another look, Amanda left, meeting Fristch
at the door.

"Saying good-bye to Sissy?" he asked curiously.

She nodded, too affably.  "Yes, yes I was.  If you think of
anything, will you--"

"I will.  Good-bye."  Fristch closed the door, watching her
figure as it merged with the darkness outside.  Pretty bitch, but
flat chested and too uppity.  She needs to be put in her place, he
considered.  Needs to learn why girls belong in pretty things in
soft beds waiting to give pleasure, NOT in universities getting
tenure.  Not when men like he, geniuses, were turned out in
disgrace.  

He was rolling this thought over in his head as he sat down in
his chair in the dining room.  Sissy served him silently, not even
speaking when he slipped two of his fingers into her slick
shaved pussy, pumping her gently.

Sissy gritted her perfect white teeth, moaning as she felt the
fingers squeeze against the tight cling of her hairless lips.

"Sissy, did you know that you had a sister?" Fristch informed
her.  He withdrew the fingers, holding them in the air.  She fell
to her white stockinged knees and took the fingers in her mouth,
tasting her juices as she wrapped her tongue about the wet
digits.

"After you're done, do fetch me the phone, Sissy."

******************* 

Amanda grimly walked up to Fristch's brownstone door.  He
had come across some interesting information he said, regarding
Ben.  Could she come over on the Sunday before the semester
began?  That was all, the e-mail had said.  She had a great deal
of preparation to do for the intro biology class she was teaching
beginning Wednesday.  But she still had a lingering affection for
Ben and if she could find out where he might have run off to, it
was worth the effort...even of dealing with the loathsome
Fristch.

Her last encounter with him had been so odd that she had been
positively embarrassed to tell anyone about it.  Not that she had
really seen anyone on campus over the Break.  The university
had been deserted.  Like Fristch's neighborhood now.  She
knocked on the door.

Sissy opened the door wide this time, smiling at her happily.  

"Hello Amanda!  It's so nice to see you!  Please come in.  The
Doctor is expecting you."  This last statement was offered with
such sexy intimations that Amanda shivered.  Although she
shivered as much at Sissy's appearance.

Fristch had known Amanda was coming over.  Was he so
disrespectful to both she and this poor bimbo that he had had
Sissy dress this way?  Was he that uninterested in any vestige of
propriety?  The lab coat that the nubile young blonde assistant
had worn before would have been preferable to this get-up.  The
buxom blonde wore a black lace teddy that left little to the
proverbial imagination.  It stretched tightly over her large
breasts supported only by two thin spagetti should straps.  The
thin lace betrayed two fully erect nipples underneath and
continued to hug her torso till finally creeping between her legs. 
The vulva mound tightly bunched against the ever disappearing
triangle of the crotch and Amanda winced at the thought of the
tight shave needed to keep that bikini line hairless.  Sissy was
made up whorishly just as before-- thick red lipstick, plucked
eyebrows, rouge brightening the pale cheeks.  Around her neck,
Sissy wore a black velvet choker, though it looked more like a
dog collar to Amanda.  Her legs were bare but she wore a pair
of black stilletos that defied gravity.  It struck her now how
much Sissy looked like that actress Kim Bassinger.

"Uh, look-- before I see your, uh, boss, have you given my offer
any thought?"

Sissy looked quizzically at her.

"You know, the last time I was here?  We talked about getting
you out of here, into a real job-- one that will let you dress in
regular clothes, not like...that."  Amanda was frustrated at
Sissy's continued, polite silence.

"You don't have to live like this, Sissy!  You're able to do
anything, be anything you want!  Why do you let him humiliate
you this way?  You don't deserve to be treated like this! 
Answer me, damn you!"

If nothing else, Amanda's tirade made Sissy loose the "good
little girl" smile.  The blonde looked down, ashamed.

"You don't understand, and I can't explain it to you," she said
softly.  "I wish I could-- really I do!  But he does things to you--
oh, but I can't explain!"  Sissy's features grew close in
helplessness.

Amanda took her forearm tenderly.  "You don't deserve this,
Sissy!"

Sissy looked up sadly.  "But I do, Amanda, I do.  I'm just a
stupid little bimbo.  If it weren't for the Doctor, I'd still be... and
when I grew up, I..."

"Sissy?!  Did I hear the doorbell?"  Fristch bellowed from
upstairs in the lab.

"I have to take you to him now, Amanda.  I'm sorry."  And
Amanda followed the girl wearily up the stairs to the lab.

Fristch was there, hunched over his lab table.  He looked up,
recovering the large object on the table.  "Thank you for
coming!  Please come in!  Can I have Sissy serve you a drink?"

Amanda shook her head.  "No.  Just tell me what you know
about Ben.  Now."

Fristch was perturbed at this rudeness.  "Sissy, two glasses of
the Merlot.  Now, Amanda, I'll I ask is a bit of civility.  I know
you don't approve of that--" he pointed at Sissy's swiveling rear
as she left the room, "but remember, you asked for my help, not
the other way around."

Amanda softened.  "O.k."  She took the glass Sissy reappeared
with.  "I'm sorry.  Tell me what you know."

Fristch made a steeple of his index fingers, touching the tip to
his pursed dry lips.  "Well, it is rather embarrassing-- to Ben
that is."

"Go on, please."

Fristch had seated himself and Sissy had positioned her at his
feet, resting on her knees with hands folded in her lap.  She
looked shyly at Amanda.

"Well, you see, Ben once told me he had rather outre
fantasies...of a sexual nature."  He sipped his wine, giving her a
disapproving look over the rim of the glass.

Amanda was surprised, too shocked at the charge to dispute it. 
"Really?  He never seemed that kinky to me!"

Sissy giggled playfully.

The scientist nodded regretfully.  "I'm afraid he was, how
would you say, 'out there?'  His kink as you put it was quite
strange indeed!"

Amanda couldn't contain her purient curiosity.  "What, Dr.
Fristch?  What was he into?"

"Lesbian bondage."  The raised eyebrows of the former middle-
aged  professor let Amanda know just what he thought of this
particular deviation.  Almost theatrically so.  The professor doth
protesteth too much methinks, Amanda thought.

"Really?"

The scientist nodded.  "Oh yes.  Ben confided in me that the
thing that nothing aroused him more than the sight of two
lovelies in their pretties obeying his every order, even while he
commanded them to...do things to each other.  Really vile
things."  The older man sipped his wine, contemplating the
unsaid acts.

Amanda was startled at this.  "Ben brought this up?  It doesn't
sound like him.  In fact I can't believe he would ever treat
women that way."

Fritsch nodded gravely.  "Oh, I was surprised too.  But he kept
painting the picture for me.  Details, you know.  Not that I
asked for any of them.  And then he disappeared shortly after."

"What kind of details?" Amanda pressed.  As little as she
wanted this peek into Ben's head, she had to know all.

Fristch looked over his half-rims.  "Well, he said that he had a
special yen for a mixed pair-- a dark-haired one and a blonde. 
He said that he would alternate which would be mistress and
which would be slavegirl.  Of course, he would be master of
both.  He mentioned an actress which he was most desirous
of...or perhaps a model I think."

Amanda jumped on the detail.  A clue perhaps.  "Can you
remember?  It might be important."

Fristch rubbed his chin in thought.  "Who is that pretty covergirl
that is married to that actor...hmmm"

"Cindy Crawford?  He had the hots for Cindy Crawford, right?"

He nodded.  "That's it.  A pretty thing, don't you think? 
Anyway, he thought she would make a marvelous plaything. 
He said he would do awful things to a girl like that if she didn't
obey.  Very anti-feminist, I must say."

"And the blonde?  What look did he say he liked in the blonde?" 
This was so weird.  Ben with two sex slaves?

"Kim Bassey or something."

"Bassinger?"

"Right.  He said he wanted to collect a pair like that and he
would train him, he said, with, oh goodness, he said whips and
riding crops.  Lurid stuff.  I couldn't believe that my former
protege would be so depraved.  He specifically wanted a pair of
sisters to act out this fantasy!"

There it was again, that almost cartoonish admonishment. 
"Well, I guess anyone is capable of it, even Ben.  Lesbian
bondage-- well I suppose he could have gone off the deep end." 
Her tone said otherwise though.  "This wine is very good.  But
let's say Ben has this strange interest-- why would he confide in
you with something so odd?"

Fristch smiled.  "He had to.  Before he left, he asked me to keep
something for him."

Amanda's eyes lit up.  "What?  Did it have something to do with
this?"

Fristch stood up.   "Come.  I'll show you."

Amanda rose unsteadily.  "That wine of yours is potent stuff!"

Fristch took her upper arm, keeping her from falling.  "Here, let
me help."  He led her over to a table, which bore a long object
covered by a sheet.  "This is what he left."  Fristch dramatically
pulled back the sheet. 

Amanda looked down.  It was Cindy Crawford!  The long,
leggy model looked up dully at her, her naked body perfectly
still.

"Is she...dead?" Amanda gasped.

Fristch shook his head.  "No.  In fact she was never alive.  But
she will be soon.  Do you think she's sweet?  Look at those
wonderful tits!"

Amanda looked at him, but he kept shifting, his outline fuzzy
and blurring.  Fristch was yelling at her now.

"I asked you a question! Do you find your new body sexy? 
Answer me!"

But Amanda never did answer the question.  She opened her
mouth to scream, then descended into a deep coma-like sleep.


WETWARE, Part Four

by Marlissa




Fristch had been watching the two girls cuddle for an hour now,
comfortably reclined in a stuffed leather arm chair in the study
of his Cambridge brownstone. The hour before, Fristch had bid
the two girls to touch nipple to nipple only and no closer.  He
had watched the two beauties look deeply into one another's
eyes as they rubbed their bullety nipples against one another. 
Their hands remained securely locked behind their backs in
handcuffs and they knelt facing each other on a blanket spread
in front of the fire.  The two were naked except for the chastity
belt each wore as a matter of course.  

From time to time, one would look up at him longingly, silently
pleading to be let loose.  Fristch ignored it, though he knew the
two hours of tortured lesbian foreplay was driving each of the
girls mad with frustration.  He loved forcing the two girls
through this slow march to orgasm and during the weekends it
would go on for hours and hours until Fristch deigned to allow
them to climax-- either delivering the release himself, or
watching the two pretties please each other.  Of course, Fristch
only allowed such pleasure if the two girls had performed to his
satisfaction.  And he was so, so demanding.

He rose from his seat.  Sissy, the blonde, looked up hopefully,
then returned to her task of nipple-fencing.  He unlocked her
cuffs first, and the small red wrists were freed.  Sissy moaned
softly, but kept her hands behind her back.  Good, she's learning
so well, thought Fristch.  Then he looked at his key chain. 
There were four keys, each marked "0", "1", "2" and "3."  He
took the "1" key and fitted it into the small keyhole in the
chastity belt lock, fitted between Sissy's kneeling legs.  The
snap of the lock opening, then the small hole in the leather
crotch revealing Sissy's pink smooth feminine offering.

He took the key and similarly unlocked the cuffs on Prissy, the
newer of the two slave girls.  Prissy was still jumpy and in need
of more training, but Fristch had never regretted acquiring her. 
She was a wonderful specimen, both physically and mentally. 
He slipped the key into her chastity belt and opened the tiny
portal to her sex.  Fristch had fitted each girl with the "1" belt
this day, the number indicating the number of digits which the
opening would accommodate.

He reseated himself eagerly.  He had fitted each bitch with "0"
chastity belts for the last two days, forbidding naughty behavior,
and it had been miserable for them.  Their poor smooth pussies
had been throbbing with desire for 48 hours and Fristch couldn't
wait to allow them a small taste of ecstasy.

"Prissy!"

The long brown-haired beauty looked up anxiously.

"Lick your middle finger.  Give it a blow-job.  Pretend it's my
cock in your mouth."

Prissy brought her right hand to her large generous mouth,
taking the digit obediently and sucking it.  Her brown eyes
blinked and closed and she deep-throated the lucky finger. 
Fristch watched approvingly as the girl's cheeks hollowed out
and her tongue wildly thrashed against the intrusive digit.  If she
had paid one iota less of loving tribute, he would have whipped
her-- and she knew it.

"Now-- STOP!"  

Prissy obeyed, waiting.  

"Now give it to your pretty sister Sissy.  In her pussy."

Prissy positioned her finger between Sissy's legs.  The blonde
moaned as the digit carefully navigated the tight, tiny portal of
the chastity belt, finding soft warm purchase in her slave sister's
girlish cleft.  Sissy smiled limply as she felt the finger fill her.

"Now tell your sister how you feel about her."

Prissy smiled.  Looking deeply into the blonde's eyes, she said
"I love you Sissy."  The gleam in the blonde slave's blue eyes
said the same.

"Now finger the little whore.  Fuck your slut sister good,
Prissy."

And Amanda Crossways, now Prissy, proceeded to furiously
finger her sister and lesbian lover.  Ben Stein, now and forever
Sissy, accepted the finger-loving gratefully, bucking up as much
as she might to take the long shaft of the finger within her too-
tight pussy.  Both of their IQs together added up to well over
three hundred, but it was their naked glistening bodies that
fascinated Dr. Fristch now.

Beads of sweat dripped from Sissy's big blonde curls and
forehead.  Her red lips were curled into a twisted smile, her
eyes blinking furiously as they watched her slave sister's finger
disappear into the leather crotch harness down below.  She was
hungry, starving for release that Prissy might bring, and Sissy's
mind was empty except for the hope of that release.  

Well, not entirely empty.  There was always the part of Sissy's
mind that waited slave-like until it was called out by Dr.
Fristch-- the part that did the amazing interesting things that
Sissy couldn't begin to fathom.  But like a genie waiting for its
master to rub the magic lamp, only Dr. Fristch could draw forth
that part of Sissy's brain, the part called Ben.  

The part called Ben was always there, but it didn't have much to
do with the way Sissy acted.  It argued with her, but it always
lost because the thing he said was so dumb. Ben said she was
really a boy, a man actually that worked on computers! 
Imagine!  With this body that the Doctor loved to use so much,
plush and easy to his touch...no, she WASN'T a boy.  Sissy
knew exactly what she was...a "dime-a-dozen" table dancer that
had been lucky enough to be taken in by Dr. Fristch as his
personal girl.  And she didn't work on computers...she worked
on her back.  She looked at her pretty sister and winked,
thankful to her for pleasuring her.

Prissy caught the naughty wink and wanted to hug her blonde
sister hotly.  But the Doctor didn't permit such unauthorized
affection.  She too had another part of her consciousness called
Amanda.  It told her that she was a professor a some big
college.  Right!  Like she hadn't been a drug dealer since she
was thirteen.  Like they let you be a professor when you had
been in reformatories and jails since you were fourteen.  That
was where Prissy had learned to make the older, tougher girl
prisoners happy.  And when she had been let out, that was how
she had become a lesbian prostitute.  And if she hadn't been
picked up by the cops, she'd still be doing that.

But the judge was ready to stop it.  She had a long record, and
the 'three strikes you're out' law meant she'd be put on ice for a
long, long time.  If it hadn't been for the Doctor.  She
remembered how he had spoken to the judge and gotten her
released to his custody.  The judge made clear her status:  cross
the Doctor and she would be coming back for a long stay in the
Women's Correctional Institute.

The Doctor had explained to her that Sissy had told him about
her plight and he was happy to help her out.  Prissy hadn't seen
her sister in years, but couldn't help remember getting wet
watching their stepfather rape her while she hid in the closet. 
She was so cute, so sexy and soft.  Their embrace was so hot
that the Doctor had started their training right then and there. 
And ever since, the two had been lovers.  It was worth it to
submit to the Doctor's sexual kinks, as long as Prissy was
allowed to play with Sissy this way.  Not that it made any
difference...one word from the Doctor and her butt would be
back in jail slurping up to the head girl in the cellblock.  Too
bad Amanda the 'professor' that howled so often in the back of
her head couldn't come up with a solution to her situation.  She
and her sister Sissy were practically slaves to the Doctor.

"Now, Sissy, I think you may reciprocate your slutty sister's
affections.  Go on and prepare YOUR finger."

Sissy couldn't help herself and giggled before jamming her
middle finger down in her mouth and deepthroating it.  She
hadn't liked lesbianiam at first, but under her sister's loving care
and the Doctor's wicked riding crop, she had learned very
quickly to enjoy it.  She sucked her finger torridly, swinging her
hair even as Prissy continued to finger-pump her.  Finally the
Doctor ordered her to return the favor.  Prissy's eyes opened up
in warm gratitude and the two, face to face now, began to
pleasure each other in earnest.

The Doctor nodded, satisfied with the girls' performance.  With
an uncharacteristic patience, he let them go on for another five
minutes, then clapped his hands loudly.  The two girls looked
up, their gorgeous faces flushed with lesbian heat.

"Stop."  

Frustration, stifled anger and resentment.  The two girls were
clearly not happy with their doctor's order, but they dared not
disobey.  Their fingers stopped their slippery penetrations in
mid-motion.

"Withdraw."

Two sighs.  Wet sparkling fingers left warm hiding holes.  

"Clean yourselves up, sluts."

The girls obeyed, tasting each other's creamy creations, licking
fingers like they were coated with sugar.  After much loud, self-
satisfied smackings, they dropped their dried fingers and waited
for the doctor's next whim.

"How darling.  Now," he snapped his fingers, "heel bitches,
heel!"

The two girls walked on their knees before the seated man, who
was ready with his set of keys.

"Turn around."

The sisters pivotted, backs to their master.  Fristch gently
pressed his foot into the back of each girl, forcing them down,
with ass in the air.  He considered the two proffered rumps,
naked but for the leather chastity belt that imprisoned their
sexes.  He bent over, inserted a key into the chastity belt on the
blonde sister, then the brownhaired one.  He noticed their thighs
jiggle and hips shake gently in excitement as pulled the belts
off.  Two asses waited for him to pick...which would he prefer? 
the girls had to be wondering.  

He let them wait for him to choose.  The uppity brownhaired
bitch was taking to her training well.  Prissy was a wonderful
little maid.  Despite her dyke leanings, she had learned to give
head especially well.  Sissy bothered him though.  Despite
being the more bimbo-ish of the two, she had been so hesitant,
so skittish.  He knew she hated him to use her from behind. 
Probably vestigial masculine feelings.  Had to be dealt with, just
had to be.

He rose from his sat, the girls remaining prostrate, eyes warily
viewing him from the floor.  Fristch pulled a long object out of
the "toy chest."  As he passed by, he dropped it next to Prissy.

"Put it on," he casually instructed.

Prissy excitedly slipped the belts and fasteners of the object
around her wasp waist.  Sissy couldn't see what it was, since the
Doctor had forced her head down with his slippered foot. 
Finally he let up.  "Turn around Sissy."

Sissy obeyed, her sexy sister still out of her range of sight.  She
remained prostrate, but now she faced her master's feet.  He
bent down and patted her head like a puppy.

"Prissy, she's all yours.  Do her well.  Let her know that Big
Sister loves Little Sister's tight little puss-box!"  Sissy felt her
sister's hands dig into her plump hips and stab dagger-like the
strap-on dildo into her soft woman-ness.  Sissy screeched, but
Prissy had her orders.  The older girl plunged the rubber ram
deeper into the bent over younger blonde, forcing the dildo deep
into the helpless girl.

"No reason to put that mouth to waste, is there?" the Doctor
said. 

Miserably, she shook her head and lowered her wet lips on the
cock that emerged from the folds of his robe.  As she took it,
and the fake cock from behind, the Doctor ran his hands through
her yellow hair, occasionally yanking it as she drew her mouth
too far from her proper idol of worship.

"Prissy, you're really giving it to Little Sister here.  Pretty whore
loves cocks, so I'll have to let you do this to her quite often. 
Still think you're a boy, Ben Stein?"

Sissy shook her head, soundless shouting "no, not anymore,
please, it hurts!"  But the cry was muffled by a stiff male
member and no one heard it.  She knew that her stubborness
would get her in trouble!  She continued to gobble the cock and
buck her hips against big sister Prissy as she continued to use
her from behind.

"And the great Amanda Crossways-- just a horny little lipstick
lezzie, right Prissy?"

The Cindy Crawford look-alike nodded sweetly for her owner
as she drove the stiff artificial dick into her former boyfriend.
Fristch enjoyed the spectacle for a few more minutes.  But even
as he came into Sissy's mouth and Sissy herself was nearing
orgasm, he decided to switch positions with Prissy.  Variety
was the spice of life.


*************************

Six months later.

Old Fristch has done well for himself, thought the Dean as he
admired the Louisburg Square townhouse.  Haven't we come up
in the world!  He took the huge brass lion's jaw doorknocker
and let it fall.  He preferred using the ornate doorknocker to the
modern doorbell.  

A maid answered, a pretty dark haired girl dressed in the
traditional maid's uniform favored by the wealthy.  

"Dean Synster to see Doctor Fristch, please."

"Of course, Sir.  The Doctor is expecting you.  Please follow
me."  The shapely creature pivotted smartly on her black stiletto
heels and minced into the halls of the great home.  The Dean
was an older man, well into his late sixties, but he had an eye
for female beauty.  This girl was an absolute charm to watch
and his eyes followed the fulsome, tightly packed hips as they
swung from side to side.

"Please sit, Sir.  May I fetch you a libation?" she asked humbly,
expectantly.  She had bent over, her cleavage spilling out ever
so teasingly from the top of her tafetta.  She was exquisite, so
respectful!  And so old-fashioned-- a libation?  He smiled,
shaking his head.

"Nothing my dear.  Just let the Doctor know I'm here."

"I'll let my master know you're here, Sir.  Right away Sir."  She
smiled, curtsied and spinning around delicately, went to
announce him to Frictsh.

The Dean was amazed.  The girl was so pretty, so seductive,
so...obedient.  Fristch was a lucky man. Finding a female who
wasn't offended by such a domestic role was difficult.  What
with all the foolish feminist nonsense that flowed like sewage
on his own campus, well...  The politically correct garbage that
polluted the country's academic institutions made such pleasant
anachronisms as a uniformed maid an impossibility!  And he
was sure as he watched her firm figure disappear, that the maid
was dressed fully to the part...down to the tiny garter belt that
peeked out from underneath her tiny black taffeta skirt.

"Dean!"  Fristch looked well.  Instead of his famed rumpled
tweed, he wore an Armani suit of pressed wool. He had a tan as
well.

"Doctor!  Thank you for seeing me."  He smiled unctuously. 
Their last meeting had not been so cordial.  He hoped the
world's newest Nobel prize winner would forget the factors
surrounding that meeting.

"My pleasure!  Please, sit down.  And thank you for seeing
me."  He looked around in annoyance.  "I see you don't have a
drink.  Prissy!  Come here!"

Prissy the maid pranced back in, with a worried frown. 
"Master?"

"Why haven't you brought the Dean a drink?"  And before she
could answer, he yanked up her short taffeta skirt.  The Dean
had been correct as her garter belt was revealed, as well as her
black lace panties.  The girl covered her face with both hands
and the middle aged scientist gave her a quick succession of
hard, hard swats on the seat of her skimpy panties.

The Dean nervously cleared his throat and Fristch looked up.  "I
told her I didn't want anything, Dr. Fristch.  She did ask."

Fristch nodded in disappointment, dropping the skirt.  "Well,
she probably has done something, I assure you Dean.  She's
incorrigible, believe me.  Anyway, fetch us a drink Prissy."

The maid stifled her sniffles and curtsied.  "Very good, Master. 
the Merlot?"

Fristch shook his head.  "No, stupid girl.  This is a celebration. 
Bring us some two glasses of the Vale D'Or '68, a nice
sparkling wine," he explained to the Dean.  As the girl left the
room, Fristch noticed the Dean's interest in the maid.

"A pretty thing, but you can't imagine how much supervision
she needs.  Always in need of correction.  Both she and her
sister."  
Sister?  How marvelous to have two such darling things waiting
on you, you old dog! Dean Synster brooded.  He was envious.

"Anyway," Fristch continued, "Thank you for coming.  First,
may I offer my condolences."

The Dean returned the comment with a blase nod.  His wife of
forty years had just passed away, much to his relief.  It had
seemed like a good idea to marry a Regent's daughter, however
much a shrew.  And it had brought him the position he had
always wanted, though at quite a cost.  But after what seemed
centuries of a loveless marriage, he was free-- free!  But he
couldn't tell Fristch that.  So he nodded politely.

Prissy returned with a silver tray bearing two hollow stemmed
crystal glasses filled with golden bubbling champagne.  Silently
she offered the glasses to each man.  Fristch patted her rump
appreciatively. 

"Master?"  The darkhaired maid batted her eyes, waiting to be
recognized.  Fristch gave her a nod and she continued.  "My
pretty sister Sissy wishes permission to speak with you.  She
wishes further instructions."

Fristch waved her out.  "Bring her in.  This should take only a
minute."

As the blonde bombshell traipsed in, the Dean held his glass
tightly.  She was marvelous-- a veritable Hollywood starlet or
model at the least.  Her bust pressed snugly up against the only
garment she wore-- a long white lab coat.  Was there a skirt
under there?   He thought he could spy the top of a pink lace
bra.  Her legs were bare, her skin smooth and glowing.  Her
hair was loose and curly, flowing over her shoulders and back. 
Her lips were pursed and ready to take a kiss.

"What is it Sissy?" Fristch demanded.

"Master, I've finished my last little chore-- perfecting the neuro-
tendon controls."

"Aren't you a clever little wench, Sissy!" Fristch noted snidley.

Sissy took the comment as the greatest possible compliment. 
She curtsied, smiling cutely.  "Thank you, Master," she gushed. 
"I'm happy to please you."

"Of course you are.  Now, since you need another little chore to
perform, let's find one for you.  Have you any dirty clothes?"

Sissy nodded.

"Why don't you hand clean your dainties so they'll smell nice
and fresh as flowers.  And wash your sister's pretties too, my
pet."

The blonde blinked and curtsied.  "Yes, Master."  And with
mission in hand, the blonde pranced out of the room.

Fristch smiled indulgently.  "They have the hottest little
collection of lingerie you've ever seen.  It's the only hobby they
have so they really throw themselves into it.  Now Dean, there's
something I really need your help with."

The Dean smiled weakly.  What could he do for a man with a
sexpot teenage maid and a lab assistant with the mind of
Madame Curie and the body of a porn star?  "Anything in my
power, Doctor."  He spread his palms up, summoning invisible
authority.

"Good.  I know you're terribly short of faculty right now.  The
disappearance of Stein and Crossways hasn't been solved has
it?"

Dean Synster shook his gray head.  "No.  Nothing.  Just the
notes each left.  Family's heard nothing, police have no leads,
and we're short two brilliant professors."

Fristch nodded sympathetically.  "Yes, too bad.  But I think I
can help.  How would the University like to have a Nobel prize
winner on faculty?"

The Dean took this in slowly.  Fristch wanted to come back. 
"Doctor, your work with robotic prosthetics is groundbreaking
and you certainly deserved the prize," he summed up slowly.

"Yes, but mere gimmicks, Dean.  The real stuff is in there," he
pointed to the lab upstairs.  "Sure to bring glory to the
University."

The Dean smiled thinly.  "I'm sure.  But Doctor Fristch, with
such success as you've established you could go anywhere in
the world and be taken in as a valued member of the faculty. 
Why not start your own institute?  I'm sure you could arrange
funding without a problem."

Fristch shook his head vigorously.  "No.  I want to come back
to MIT."

The Dean pondered this.  After a while, he spoke, enunciating
every word.  "You know that I can't do that.  It was part of our
legal agreement with that...girl."

Fristch smoothed the lapel of his dark finely tailored jacket. 
"Yes!  Poor Heidi.  What a misguided lass."  He looked up,
then looked down at the Dean's feet.  "Oh my!  I'm so
embarrassed!"

"What?  What is it?"  Dean Synster looked down at his loafers. 
Under the skirt of the chair poked a familiar sight.  Gingerly he
pulled the pink item and held it before him, flabbergasted.  It
was a two and a half foot long double-headed dildo!

"The girls DO have a habit of leaving their toys out.  My
apologies."  He clapped sovereign-like and the two girls came
running.  "Girls, what have I told you about putting your toys
away?"

The Dean looked at the pretty domestics, who chewed lips
nervously and studied the Oriental carpet intently.  Finally Sissy
whispered.  "You said to put them away, Master."  Prissy
twirled her brown hair manically, then added softly, "Yes,
Master, you did."

"Fine.  Well, if you leave them out, I guess you want to play
with them.  Dean, do you mind?  This is a lesson they need to
learn."

The Dean sipped his champagne unsteadily and dumbly
nodded.  He had no idea of what to expect.  Surely Fristch
wouldn't make them---

"Strip to your undies girls."

Sissy, the blonde lab assistant, shrugged shyly and unbuttoned
her lab coat.  She let it fall off her thin arms, puffing her chest
out, and the white coat dropped behind her.  She stood standing
in nothing but a pink lace push-up bra, matching pink thong
panties and pink five inch heeled shoes.  She had transformed
from proper lab helper to steamy sex kitten in seconds.

Prissy, the brownhaired beauty, daintily untied her apron and
reached back to unzip her little black dress.  Gently the uniform
slooped down her buxom bodice till she was clad in black
bustiere, black lace panties, garter belt and stilt black heels.  

"Now girls, show the Dean here what dyke bimbos you are. 
Sissy, kneel in front of your airhead big sis and pull off her
panties for her."

Sissy obediently fell to her knees and did so, ever so gently
pulling down the panties to show off the smooth pleasure notch
of the maid.  Dean Synster was growing hard-- the first time in
years!  Fristch then told Prissy return the favor, which the maid
did with considerable relish.  The Dean noted the older girl was
practically drooling as the blonde bared her own shaven snatch.

"Watch this Dean-- the sluts love it!  In your favorite position
bitches-- on your backs!  No, no, no-- the way we've done it
before-- pussy to pussy!  Good girls.  Now spread your legs
good and wide, like you were about to get good and fucked,
you whores.  Good, very obedient little bimbos.  Now my lezzie
sisters, take this."  He tossed the double head dildo down
between them.  Fristch took his own champagne and sipped. 
"Go on-- you know what to do!"

The Dean watched wordlessly as the girls let their fingers
position the huge sextoy and take each end inside them!  Then,
with perfect co-ordination possible only from practice, Sissy
and Prissy, the blonde and chesnut haired girl, clasped each
others hands for support.  Next they placed the flat of their feet
against each other.  They resembled a lewd set of bookends! 
The Dean turned to look at his host, who now sat with his
engorged penis in his hands!

"Fuck slavegirls!  Fuck!" he commanded.

In obedient response the two girls began to hump down against
one another's ass.  The pink dildo had disappeared between the
snatches of the two sisters.  Sweat poured off their faces as they
enjoyed the humiliating task.  Fristch was smiling evilly as he
swung his fully erect cock toward them.  

"Imagine Dean-- I can make one for you-- just for you.  To
your specifications-- IN EVERY WAY!  Don't ask how it
works, you'll just have to take my word for it.  You like
redheads, you got a redhead.  You want a black girl, you can
have that.  And THEY OBEY COMPLETELY!!!"  He pointed
his cock and shot a hot missile of come at the sisters.  "Lap it up
slaves!  Go on girls, let me see you drink it up!"

The Dean watched in mingled horror and fascination as the hot
sticky goo bathed the girls, who began to struggle to lick it off
their own faces and breasts.  Fristch urged the Dean to do the
same.

"It's o.k. to feed the animals at my zoo Dean!"

And so the Dean strummed his own weapon, pulling it out and
letting fly.  He pointed it at the chesnuthaired wench, catching
her square in the eyes.  Prissy looked up at him respectfully and
began to let her tongue catch the precious milky treasure.

"I'll do it," the university official croaked.  "You'll be reinstated-
- may God forgive me!"

Fristch finished his champagne.  "In my world, Dean Sysnster--
I'm the god."  And the two men watched as Ben Stein and
Amanda Crossways, two brilliant minds, performed for their
master.  Fristch wondered briefly if the cum-drenched lesbian
sisters ever truly enjoyed these tasks, then let it drop.  It just
didn't matter. 


THE END