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 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 onin 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 Boopish 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 practiced, 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 biddy of yours 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.