Jen the Gynoid by EssexEye

Jen the Gynoid by EssexEye

Part I

When Mark and his girlfriend Robin are having some trouble keeping things interesting in the bedroom, Robin has a solution. The solution in question is seven feet tall, and she’s gonna push Mark way outside his comfort zone.

“No,” I said, turning over in bed.

“Mark,” Robin whined, leaning on me, “come on!”

“I mean it. I don’t want to do that.”

“It would be fun!” I heard her shaking something behind me, and looked up to see the pair of handcuffs she had in her hand. “Look, it’s easy. Just put one on my wrist, loop it through the headboard, and—”

“Robin,” I said, “I’m not into that kind of stuff. Can’t we just do it normally? Like usual?”

She pouted. It was the kind of expression that was so exaggerated you couldn’t take it seriously—but I’d been dating Robin for over a year now, and I could tell she was hurt and trying not to look like it. “Can we… talk about this?” she said at last.

I sat up in bed, exposing my bare chest. We were both naked. Theoretically the prelude to a night of fun, or at least a decent half hour before sleep, but….

“Mark, I know you’re not into all this stuff. The roleplay and the bondage and the BDSM stuff and the hypnosis….” She sighed. “But I am. And… I feel like the sex has gotten pretty bad lately. I mean, for me specifically, but haven’t you felt it too?”

I had to admit, Robin was right. For all the foreplay we did, and all the positions we tried, it felt like a spark was dying out. Over the last month or so, I’d gotten the vague sense that she’d been enjoying herself less… and my own enjoyment couldn’t help but decline in response. But I didn’t want to say all that, so I sighed in response.

She seemed to take it as assent anyway, and scooched closer on the bed. “I don’t wanna push you too far out of your comfort zone,” she said, resting a hand on my shoulder, “but I think you’d really enjoy trying new things if you actually… tried them. So….” She smiled. “I’ve come up with an idea.”

“Mm?”

“Christmas is in a month. I know it’s a little lame to tell someone what to get you for Christmas, but….” She took in a breath. “I’m gonna get you to try something new. And what I want for Christmas is for you to actually try it. Don’t just say no outright, really give it a shot.”

“Hmmmnnn…” I groaned. “I… you think it’ll be something I like?”

“I think it’s going to be really fun for both of us. But you have to try it. Even if you end up not liking it and don’t go all the way, you have to try some of it. And in return, I won’t bug you about doing anything outside your comfort zone until then. Deal?”

She extended a hand. I didn’t have to think for long before I reached out my own and shook on it. “Deal.” And then I leaned in for good measure to give her a kiss, which she happily returned.

“Thanks,” she said, once she’d pulled away. “Trust me, I think you’re gonna love this.”

“Can you tell me what it is I just agreed to?”

“That would ruin the surprise.” She winked.

“Oh, so you get to know what my gift is, but not vice versa?”

With a giggle, she reached over to her bedside table and shut off the lamp, letting the cool November night envelop us. “Good night, Mark.”

With a little harrumph, not quite of frustration, I lay back in bed and slept.

The two huge gifts were the first things I saw when I came into the living room on Christmas morning. Together, one stacked atop the other, they were about the size of a refrigerator.

The next thing I saw was Robin sitting next to the gifts, wearing a loose T-shirt and shorts as she fidgeted eagerly with her hands. As soon as she saw me, she leaped up and grabbed me in a hug. “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas,” I said back, and we shared a kiss. When I broke off, I motioned with my head at the giant boxes. “Um. Wow? What are those?”

“They’re for you! Open them!”

“How much did you spend on wrapping paper alone?”

“Just open it,” she grunted.

With a little chuckle I got to work: untying the oversized bow at the top, the kind you’d see in one of those Christmas car commercials, then pulling down the ribbons. I found the folds in the wrapping paper for the top gift, and started ripping.

It didn’t take long for my eyes to widen in confusion. “Is this… what is this?” I said, staring at the giant label.

“I dunno. What does it look like?”

It looked like a box with the words “Female Bodysuit – Large Model” on the side, next to an Erotech logo and a picture of a tall, buff woman in a bikini, lounging as if on a beach chair. And not regular tall, either. The box specified that she was seven feet, amidst her other features: at a glance, I saw ‘voice changer integration’, ‘full tactile feedback’, and ‘realistic bodily functions’.

But anyway, seven feet tall.

“Um.” I gestured loosely. “Explain?”

“Remember the promise you made a month ago? This is the new thing I want you to try.” With a grunt of effort she pulled the bodysuit box off the gift below and lowered it to the floor; then she started opening up the box itself. “I’m pretty sure I’ve told you I’m bi, right?”

I nodded.

“Well, yeah. You are an amazing boyfriend, but… I’ve got urges. Urges involving big buff ladies.” She let out a little giggle and blushed at that. “So what I want to try is some, I guess we could call it, roleplay.” She finished opening the box, pulled out some bubble wrap from the inside, and then heaved out a giant mass of… flesh? It looked like skin, all folded up, but I assumed it had to be some sort of rubber.

Whatever it was, it was massive: she held it in her arms at about chest level, and the pile of fold rubber-or-whatever-it-was blocked her whole face except her eyes. Eyes that were fixed on me. “I want you to put this on, and then fuck me cross-eyed.”

I stared.

“What?” she said.

“This isn’t gonna work.”

Her eyebrows bent down. “You promised you’d give it a—”

“I know, I know, I know! But….” I gestured at the box. “It says it’s seven feet tall. I’m… what, five foot nine? Even without getting into how weird this is, how the hell is this supposed to work? Unless you want me to look like a kid trying to wear dad’s clothes?”

Her eyebrows went up, and she laughed. “Oh! Good question. And I have the answer, right….” She motioned with her head to the other gift, even larger than the first. “There. Get unwrapping, Mark, while I put this away.”

She walked past me into our shared bedroom. I shrugged and started unwrapping the second gift, and by the time she was back, I had my answer. “Oh,” I said.

Personal Exoskeleton, said the box, next to another Erotech logo. The image was of a sleek dark-gray robot, covered from head to toe in what seemed to be a thick, flexible rubber. According to the box, this exoskeleton was seven feet tall like the bodysuit, and had a bunch of other features besides: I saw ‘increased strength’, ‘remote stimulation options’, ‘audio playback’, and a few more.

I also saw an absolutely massive pair of tits on the front of the exoskeleton, and a slit between the legs.

“Apparently they first made these things for military and construction stuff,” Robin said, slapping the top of the box. “And then some kinky people decided, hey, what if we used this bad girl for sex? It cost a bunch, but going by the reviews, it is so worth every penny.”

“You want me…” I took a breath. “To get inside… that?”

“Yeah. Is that gonna be a problem?” She looked up at me, questioningly.

“Well….” I took another breath. “I promised. I’ll give it a shot.”

She squealed and grabbed me in a tight hug. “Thank you!” Releasing me, she made eye contact. “I know you’ve got cold feet but trust me, I think this is gonna be fun.”

Cold feet… actually weren’t the problem. Sure, I was acting like I still didn’t want to do anything other than vanilla sex, probably because I was being stubborn. But as I looked at that robot, and thought about the idea of being inside it… well, I was definitely getting some sort of temperature sensation in my body, but it wasn’t cold, and it definitely wasn’t in my feet.

Robin walked, nearly running in her excitement, to a closet. She pulled out a hand truck that we hadn’t used since we moved into the apartment, then wheeled it over and jammed its little floor platform under the box. “Help me make sure it doesn’t fall over,” she said, and carefully wheeled it into our bedroom, while I walked in front of the box and kept a hand on it.

When she let go of the hand truck, the box fell back to the ground with a wham that vibrated my teeth. “All right,” she said. One more quick jog to the kitchen area and back, and she handed me a pair of scissors. “I’m gonna wait out here, patiently, while you get it on. Lemme know when you’re all the way done, okay? I wanna see you in the whole thing at once, to get the full effect.”

“What if I need help?” I asked.

But Robin was already backing toward the bedroom door. “I asked at the store, and you can get into it on your own. Don’t keep me waiting too long! Bye!”

And she shut the door.

I stared at the box. Trying to ignore the erection swelling in my boxers, I got to work with the scissors, cutting down each corner to let the box fall open. Once I had, my breath quickened.

She was sitting with her knees tucked to her chest. Her head was completely bald, and had depressions for eyes but no visible eyeballs, although there was a mouth and nose. There were, however, no ears.

I pressed my hand into the ‘flesh’, which was to say the rubber, that coated her body. (Its body, I reminded myself.) The rubber had a little give, but not too much, and I felt the rigid mechanical parts below if I pushed too hard. It felt durable, and given the strenuous activity this thing was designed for, that made good sense.

My hands were shivering, I noticed, as I traced the exoskeleton’s body down its neck to its chest, and the two plump breasts I found there. They were reasonably sized on this body, but would be comically enormous on anyone of average height, and they were much plumper than the other skin.

The arms had faux muscles on them, and were much firmer to the touch than either the breasts or head had been. They were also noticeably longer than my own arms, but I didn’t focus on that detail too much. There was too much else to focus on….

Like the suit’s molded abs, firm as I pushed my arm in between its legs to feel them. Like the rear, padded like the breasts but not as plushly, that I cupped to feel in my hand. Like the artificial vagina, soft and tight and deeper than Robin’s.

Oh man. I was at full mast now.

My attentions had drawn me to the floor of the box, and I noticed a smaller box within: I opened it up and found exactly what I needed, next to a charging cable and some sort of remote. An instruction manual. I quickly opened it up and found some key instructions under a ‘Getting Started’ header: ‘When entering the suit, press the Entry button on the remote.’ I did so, and then jumped back—

Because the suit was standing. In a smooth, robotic motion, she abandoned her huddled pose and stood to her full, seven foot height. “Oh shit,” I whispered, looking up at the giant woman towering over me. Then I heard a little kachunk noise from her back.

Unfortunately, her back was basically against the wall, so I hugged her around her waist—getting a face full of abs in the process, and I wasn’t complaining—and walked her rigid legs around with many a grunt of effort until she was more in the middle of the room. Once I was done, I panted for a few seconds, then walked behind her.

A large section of her back had hinged open on both sides, as well as sections just above the legs, leaving more than enough room for someone to climb in. No, not ‘someone’: me.

Oh yeah, I was breathing hard. I was pretty sure this had just awakened something in me.

‘Fully disrobe before entering,’ said the instructions, so I pulled down my boxers and kicked them across the room. Then, since it occurred to me I probably wouldn’t be able to keep reading after putting on the exoskeleton, I read several lines ahead until I was confident I had all the instructions I needed.

Then I stood on the edge of my bed, planted my hands on her shoulders for support, and stuck my leg in.

‘Keep your feet pointed as they enter the exoskeleton’s legs’, the instructions had said, and as my leg slid inside it was clear why. My foot eventually came to rest in a crevice where only a pointed foot would fit. Judging by the length of my leg, it seemed that my toe-tips were at about the exoskeleton’s ankle, and there were little holes for each like a glove for the foot. I had no clue how I was supposed to control the suit’s foot from here—maybe I hadn’t read far enough in the instructions—but oh well, this was no time to back out. With a little contortion on my part, I got the other foot in.

‘If male: place the (erect) penis in the exoskeleton’s gaffe.’ There had been another option for what females were supposed to do, but I hadn’t really paid attention to it. The gaffe was quite enough of a thing to demand my full attention. As I guided my penis into it, it enveloped my flesh totally, but not too tightly. Was this what a fleshlight felt like?

‘From there, it should be easy to insert your arms.’ And it was, although my hands ran into the same issue as my feet had: they were forced to slide fully flattened into a sort of glove just before the suit’s wrist. From there, all that remained was the head.

‘First time users may find it difficult to accept the suit’s nasal and oral interfaces into their own mouths, but Erotech has done its utmost to make the experience as comfortable as possible.’

I squinted at the dentures and nose-tubes I saw in front of me, illuminated by a little light that came through where the suit’s eyes would be. With a bit of trepidation, like I was preparing for a flu shot at a doctor’s office, I leaned in and speared my nostrils on the exoskeleton’s, and bit around the dentures. My tongue slid naturally into a fleshy pocket which, I realized, had to be the suit’s tongue.

It was a little hard to breathe right now, like I was wearing a tight mask over my nose, and I had to pant. Besides that, the small amount of light coming in around the eyes wasn’t enough to see more than vague shapes of the room around me. But I was in—except for the back panels. There was one more step I had to do to resolve that issue. So, enunciating as best as I could with my mouth rigged up like it was, I said: “Erotech Override: Activate suit.”

And then I let out a little cry.

The back panels closed, yes, but that was the least of what I noticed. All around me, the suit tightened: over my stomach, my chest, my arms, my legs, and my poor erect member. The gaffe had been loose before, but now it was as if I was getting a really firm handjob. The nose tubes elongated, probing deeper into my nostrils, and I couldn’t squirm to get them away.

Oh, and a spike shoved its way into my asshole. I yelped. They did not mention this in the handbook!

After a few seconds, it was done, and then—all at once—the exoskeleton wasn’t rigid and stable anymore. It was falling, stumbling—which was to say, I was stumbling and falling. I instinctively pinwheeled my arms, but it wasn’t enough to stop me from landing on my back with a slamming sound.

“Ow,” I said, out of reflex more than anything: the suit had cushioned the blow. And then I froze, and said it again. “Ow?” Before, my voice had been muffled. Now it came out as a robotic, vaguely feminine, and completely clear synthesized voice.

Moreover, I could see. Whatever process had sealed up the suit, it must have activated the eyes or something: my vision was very nearly as good as it would be with the naked eye. Maybe I had a little less peripheral vision, but the difference was hardly noticeable. I almost didn’t notice, but with the nose tubes fully inserted, breathing was coming easily as well.

In awe, I lifted the exoskeleton’s hand—my hand—in front of my face, turning this way and that. I noticed its fingers twitching, and tried to flex my hand—and was astonished when the fingers of the exoskeleton reacted accordingly, splaying out wider than a dinner plate. “Whoa,” I said in my new voice. Clearly my own hand, hidden in the exoskeleton’s lower arm muscles, wasn’t moving: there had to be some sort of system inside the suit that sensed my attempts at motion and translated them to the outside. Looking down at my feet, I gave an experimental toe-wiggle and was delighted to see it copied by the exoskeleton.

Not that I could see my feet all that well: the suit’s boobs were in the way, and they were giant. They looked even bigger from the inside! Giggling a little, I dropped my hand to my chest and groped one, and then moaned. The groping sensation was translated to a corresponding pressure on my chest. It felt… very good, firm and grasping on my pectorals, and if I weren’t already erect I think I would have become so.

I couldn’t stay lying down here forever, though. I reached up to my dresser with my giant arm, grabbed it, and tried to pull myself up—but ended up nearly pulling the dresser down on top of me. “Whoa!” I yelled, pushing it back to vertical.

Right. I was way heavier in this body. I settled for planting my hands on the floor and pushing myself up.

Now I was on my feet again, and while I wasn’t exactly stable, it wasn’t nearly as hard staying up as I might have thought. Even though I was essentially en pointe, the pressure of standing was distributed throughout my feet and legs, so it didn’t hurt to be like that. And even though I was over a foot taller than my usual self, walking felt nearly natural. Even the nose, mouth, and anal probes were easy not to think about.

I walked forward a few steps, then back, just to test things out. Then I walked to the closet, where Robin and I had a full-length mirror that we’d never thrown away, but also never found a place to put in our apartment. I wanted to see myself, so I clumsily grabbed a closet door handle and pulled. And then the handle ripped off in my hand like I was detaching a lego.

I stared for a few seconds, cursing myself internally. The suit was an exoskeleton; of course it would be stronger than I was. I reached slowly, daintily, for the other door’s handle, like I was trying to pick up a baby mouse. Holding my breath, I eased the door slowly open, and reached in to carefully grab the mirror and lean it against a wall.

I stared at it, and an amazonian robot babe stared back.. or would, if the suit had visible eyes. “Wow,” I whispered in a slightly vocoded voice. I reached up an arm and lifted up a breast, and so did the robot in the mirror. I flexed an arm, and her bicep bulged. I let my jaw hang slightly: so did she.

I was her. She was me.

Looking in the mirror brought my attention to another one of the suit’s features, one I hadn’t paid much attention yet. Slowly, almost reverentially, I brought down my hand and eased it toward the slit between the suit’s legs—

A voice came from outside the room. “Hurry up in there! Don’t you dare hog all the fun!”

I grunted in annoyance. But then again, she was right. As good as I looked now, how much better would I look with the skin?

So I turned around and lumbered over to the other side of the bed, where Robin had laid the outer suit. I lifted it and placed it on the bed, then noticed a little booklet that had been on the floor beneath it. I picked that up too and read, and then squinted.

I grabbed between the outer suit’s legs, exposing the vaginal opening. Apparently I was supposed to get in through that little slit? And the suit would stretch to accommodate me as I entered? Considering how strong I seemed to be now, that was hard to believe… but hell, it was what the booklet said.

And lo, as I grabbed either side of the slit with a hand and pulled, it stretched like taffy without snapping. Oh, it was definitely tight, and offered plenty of resistance, but I didn’t feel worried about shredding it anymore. So, with a little grin, I pushed my arms and head into it like a diver entering the water.

For a few seconds, everything was dark as I got myself sorted out. Then my eyes lined up with the outer suit’s eyeholes, about the same time as my hands ended up in the suit’s hands—and I froze for a moment, realizing that I was already thinking of the exoskeleton’s body as my own. Weird.

The outer suit’s face had its own nose and mouth attachments, and these were easy to insert into my already gagged mouth and nose. I shook my head to make sure the fit was right, shaking the suit’s hair—and she had a lot of hair. A huge, white-blond mane that reached past her waist. I ran a hand through it, and it was silky smooth to the touch.

But I didn’t want to keep Robin waiting. I stretched out the suit’s legs and pushed my own inside. Last, but not least, I pushed the anal and vaginal inserts into my own.

And it was done. I sauntered over to the mirror again, and my breath caught.

The robot suit had had its own charms, of course, but now… I was gorgeous. I was a wet dream come to life. My face was strong-jawed but still feminine, with piercing eyes and full lips. My hair cascaded behind me like a waterfall, and I felt it on my back, tickling at my rear. My biceps, my triceps, my pecs and abs and quads were all obvious even in a relaxed position, and when I flexed they came into stark relief. My skin was bronzed and tanned like I’d spent a summer sunbathing nude.

A wide, predatory grin spread over my face, and I laughed confidently—but not robotically. Now that the outer suit was on, the exoskeleton’s voice changer had switched to a slightly gravelly, but very female, voice. “Hey there, sexy,” I said, sultrily, blushing—actually, visibly blushing—as I leaned in and gave the mirror an impulsive kiss.

My breasts, huge and pert, hung but didn’t sag. My rear, which I looked at by twisting around and brushing my hair out of the way, was wide enough to give me a slight hourglass shape despite the thickness of my core. And my slit….

My… slit….

It was already wet. I didn’t know how the suit was doing that, and I didn’t care: before I knew it, I was backing up, sprawling over the now-too-small bed, sending my greedy fingers in and out of my folds with little schlicking noises. Two layers deeper, I felt every sensation on my trapped member, stroking it, teasing it, playing with it.

Drawing me closer and closer to release. I gasped, neck arched back, one hand grasping at a breast as the other shoved deeper and deeper into my vagina. Deeper, deeper….

The door slammed open. My head jerked forward to see Robin standing there, a petulant look on her face. “I told you not to hog all the fun,” she said.

“Robin?” I gasped.

Her expression softened immediately. “See what happens when you try new things? You look fucking amazing.” She strode toward me and leaned over my body, and gave me the deepest, most passionate kiss she had in months. I gave my most passionate kiss right back, embracing her with my free hand, still twitching with delight.

Then she pulled back, and gripped the wrist of the hand that was idling in my folds. “But if you think I’d let anyone except me take that body’s virginity, then you couldn’t be more wrong, big girl.”

“Please,” I whimpered, letting her pull my hand away. I was so hot, so flustered, and if I couldn’t take care of myself then I needed someone else to take care of me.

So she did. “Get your legs over there,” she ordered, pulling her T-shirt over her head. I rotated my body so I was lengthwise on the bed, lying in the middle, with my legs hanging over the end. I heard it creak a bit beneath me, but I wasn’t paying attention to anything except my own need, and I moaned as Robin clambered on top of me, facing my legs, now dressed in nothing but black lacy lingerie.

And when she leaned down to start licking, I nearly howled. My body shook, my hips bucked, as her tongue scooped down between my labia, and I felt it two layers deeper on my member—but I wasn’t even thinking about that. I was just thinking about being this woman, receiving cunnilingus from Robin, and feeling her smooth body on mine, and smelling her sweat and sweet perfume, and that tongue, oh, that tongue—

I spasmed and cried out, cumming furiously. My hands gripped Robin’s back, pressing her body close to mine, forcing her head to stay at my crotch as I squirted out onto the bed and onto the floor, and onto her face. For a few seconds I couldn’t even think, and it was like the time just disappeared.

When I regained my senses, Robin was saying, “Ow, ow, ow,” and I realized I was holding her tightly. I let go. “Jesus, you’re strong,” she said, wincing a bit as she flexed her back. “Did you like that?”

“Mm-hm.” I was still a bit too dazed for words.

“I’m glad you liked it. But I didn’t say I was gonna fuck you cross-eyed.” She clambered around so that we were facing each other. “I told you to fuck me.” She smiled hungrily.

“I, um….” I gulped. All of a sudden I was painfully aware that I was not, in fact, a seven foot busty amazon. I just felt like Mark on stilts. “Robin, um….”

“What? Pin me down and fuck me.”

“I… might hurt you by mistake. Like, really hurt you.” To emphasize the point, I slipped a hand under her belly and lifted Robin in the air, one handed. She let out a little yelp. “This suit is really strong and I don’t have the hang of it yet,” I continued, bringing her back down.

“Oh. So… no pinning me down.”

“Yeah. Also….” I squirmed a little. “I’m… not really sure how to fuck you like a girl would. I don’t have my usual equipment.”

She pouted.

“I could finger you, I guess? But these fingers are really big, and….”

“Ssh.” Robin lifted a finger to the suit’s lips. “I have an idea. Be right back.”

She pushed herself off me and popped off to the living room. I smiled, just lying on the bed. After all, I’d really enjoyed the last idea—was still enjoying it, in fact. And my smile only widened when she came back with yet another wrapped gift, this one small enough for her to hold in her hands. “Go on,” she said, “open it.”

I grabbed it in my huge hands and shredded it open with minimal exertion. My eyes widened.

“It’s extra large so you can wear it,” Robin said, as I tore open the box containing the giant strapon. It had a large black belt to go around my waist, and a big shiny-black shaft that looked almost a foot long—as well as a somewhat smaller insert on the other side. “You look excited,” she said.

I nodded. “Could you help me put this on?” I asked, standing up. The strapon’s belts were heavy duty, but they still required some fastening and tightening around the back, and I wasn’t sure my coordination was up to that yet. Robin smiled and got to work.

I lifted one foot, then the other, to step into the strapon. Then Robin raised it around my legs, up to my crotch. I groaned in pleasure as she pushed the insert into my vagina, and gyrated my crotch a little—but she smacked me on the rear and said, “Stop that. I need to finish this.”

After a few tugs she was done, and she returned to my front. With a wink, she leaned forward and took almost the entire length in her mouth, lubricating it with her saliva. She barely had to crouch at all to do it.

I laughed, half with pleasure and half with irony, as I thrust into her throat a few times. Here I was, feeling the pressure on a fake penis as it ground against a fake vagina, which sent stimulations to my real penis. It was like a Rube Goldberg sex machine… and I was loving it.

After a few seconds, she drew back and paused for air. But I didn’t want to pause. I grabbed her, delighting in her little cry of surprise, and picked her up as easily as if she were a kitten. I walked to the front of the bed, then let myself fall back on it. And in the process, she fell onto me. I heard a little crack from behind me, but didn’t really pay attention: what I was paying attention to was the little squeal as she pulled her lingerie to the side and speared herself upon my strapon.

She’d told me to fuck her cross-eyed. Who was I to disappoint?

Slowly at first, but faster and faster, I bucked my hips into her. The strapon was only halfway in at first, but buried itself a little deeper with each thrust, digging in gradually. Her yelps of delight were mirrored by my own pleasured grunts at the insert inside myself. I held her by the hips, trying to be as gentle as possible—which was hard when my hands nearly encircled her entire abdomen—and shoved her in opposition to the motion of my hips.

“Oh,” she groaned, “more, more, more—” Another cry left her mouth, and her lower lips reached the strapon’s hilt. I grinned savagely, and went harder: bucking more fiercely, ramming her down harder onto my shaft. I was losing my control, and we were both close.

It was heaven, this buildup: her cries steadily increasing in volume, the smell of her sweat, the feeling of her grasping at my hair for support, her legs coming up alongside my body, the insert within me, and maybe most of all, that everpresent tightness—the tightness of the body all around me. It felt so good to be this new person.

With a final, feral cry, I pulled the strapon out, and then plunged it in as far as it could go, and we both cried out as we reached orgasm.

And as the bed cracked and broke beneath us. We fell about a foot, all at once. I gripped Robin tighter on instinct, but my hips were still bucking with aftershocks, releasing the last bits of pleasure into my lover. She gasped and panted, shaking with her own orgasm. It was even better than the last one had been.

A few seconds after we were spent, I eased Robin off my shaft, then laid her next to me on the collapsed bed. The foot of the mattress was sagging toward the floor, right under where my hips had been bucking. “That was amazing,” I said, turning to face her with a smile. “Sorry about the bed.”

“I don’t even care,” she said, panting.

“Neither do I.”

We laughed together.

“Hey,” she said, resting a hand on my shoulder. “Are you glad you tried something new?”

I held her with my own hand. “Absolutely.”

“Great. So, do you wanna get out of that thing so we can have the rest of Christmas?”

“No.”

She frowned. “Really?” But I could see the eagerness in her eyes.

“That’s right. I wanna be like this… all day!” Laughing, without warning, I sat up and grabbed her in a bridal carry, walking through the bedroom door and back into our living room.

“Woo! I’m so glad you said that!” She beamed, and played with my hair a little bit, twirling it in her fingers. “But… you need a name.”

“Huh?”

“Mark is a boy’s name. I don’t wanna call you Mark all day. So, what’s your name?”

I frowned, and tilted my head a little. “How about….” A few seconds passed. “Jen. You can call me Jen.”

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Jen! Merry Christmas,” She laughed. “Now come on, I’ve got some clothes for you to try on, and apparently you should be able to eat breakfast in that thing, so let’s get to it.”

I beamed, and tousled her hair. She was so small in my arms, so easy to hold close to me, and I loved it.

“But before we do, one more thing….” Robin reached out an arm around my neck, and pulled herself up to whisper into my ear. “I love you, Mark.”

I smiled back. “I love you, Robin.”

Her breath was hot on my cheek. “And I love you, Jen.”

Part II - Erotic Boogaloo

Mark and Robin’s escapades in fetishism continue, with the help of a seven foot marital aid named Jen. But Mark can’t shake the feeling that Robin’s looking for something more….

“It’s so… tight,” I said, carefully holding my spoon between two massive fingers.

“Mm?” Robin looked up from her own cereal on the other side of the counter. “What was that?”

“Like….” I took a spoonful of cereal and swallowed it. “I tasted that. Don’t know how, but I did. And I felt how cold the milk was on my tongue. I can feel this bra,” I said, gesturing at the simple black number on my chest, “and these panties.” They were black to match the bra, and just as plain.

Robin tilted her head to the side, slurping up the last of her cereal. “Of course you can, Jen.” She was sitting down at the kitchen counter. I had to stand, for fear of splintering our poor chairs.

“But, if I pay attention….” I lifted my arms and hugged myself. “I feel the suit, too. Not just feeling with the suit. I feel the exoskeleton pressing on my body, squeezing my skin… and then the outer suit, pressing on that.” I grabbed some skin by my midriff and pulled, and with my strength it stretched a bit more than regular skin would. “And that’s not even getting into the, uh, inserts,” I added, letting it snap back into place and wincing a little.

Robin frowned for a moment, and before I could think to ask why, she smiled and leaned forward. “And how does that make you feel?”

I pursed my lips. “Good.” No, that wasn’t quite the right word. “Comfortable, I guess… secure? I feel safe.”

“Yeah? That’s great!” Robin nodded, still leaning forward. “Honestly, that sounds like a lot of what I love about bondage.” Then she winked as obviously as possible. “Hint, hint.”

“Hmm, I guess… except that if I were tied up, I couldn’t do this!” Before Robin had a chance to lean back, I reached across and grabbed her with one hand, then picked her up across the kitchen island. I hefted her over my shoulder like a duffel, laughing at her little ineffectual kicks as I carried her over to the couch.

“No fair!” She pummeled at my upper back with her fists, but feebly enough that I could tell she was only playing.

In a fluid motion I laid her out on the couch and leaned over her, our mouths close. “You couldn’t stop me even if you wanted to,” I aid, smiling like a predator.

And she smiled back. “Is that a challenge?”

I leaned in and nibbled at her neck. She shivered and moaned, “S-s-so unfair.”

I couldn’t exactly lie down on the couch, not if we still wanted to have a couch. So instead I picked it up, put it in a corner (god, imagine how easy vacuuming would be like this), and pulled off all the cushions to lay them where the couch had been.

From there, I lay on the cushions, and my girlfriend lay on me. Apparently my breasts made perfectly fine pillows for her, and I wasn’t complaining. “You’re warmer than I thought you’d be,” she murmured, pulling up some streaming service or another—who could keep track these days—and choosing our favorite Christmas movie. “And you’re nice and soft when you’re not flexing.”

I tousled her hair as Die Hard started up. I was acclimating pretty fast to the suit, and I wasn’t even worried about bruising her head.

So, when you pull up a movie like Die Hard while cuddling with your girlfriend, you don’t really do it to be enthralled by the gripping drama and edge-of-your-seat action. Particularly not while you’re sealed inside two layers of busty blonde fucksuit. Most of the following hours were spent making out, copping many feels, and exploring each others’ bodies; I felt like a humanoid playground for Robin.

Among the things I learned: nipples were very good. We’d never done much with the ones on my regular body, but maybe twenty minutes in, Robin reached over and started pinching and teasing one of mine, and I squirmed with pleasure. Not to be outdone, I reached under her panties and pushed a finger inside her, and learned something else new: my middle finger alone was enough to fill her up.

Other things: fingering my new pussy was okay, but it could take Robin’s whole fist just fine, and a decent chunk of her forearm into the bargain—and that felt much better. On the other hand, when she tried surreptitiously slipping a finger into my rear, I clenched up so hard she yelped—more from surprise than anything. I mentally filed that one away under ’needs further testing’.

Before we knew it, the movie was done. Robin stood up, yawned, and stretched. “Back in a bit, I wanna check something.”

For my part, I took a bathroom break with zero difficulty—other than having to crouch over the toilet, rather than sitting on it directly, for fear of shattering the porcelain. If nothing else, it emphasized that the suit was intended for long-term use.

When I got out, I saw Robin lying on the couch cushions, reading a little pamphlet. I scooped her up without any ceremony, lay down beneath her, and placed her on my torso, and this time she didn’t even react. “What’s that?” I said.

As I looked over her shoulder, it quickly became clear what it was: the exoskeleton’s instruction manual. I’d neglected a lot of pages, pretty much all of them past the first, so this was new to me. Apparently, the instruction manual did mention the anal probe, and recommended practicing holding things with extreme caution, and—

Robin snapped the book shut.

“Hey!” I said. I reached for it but she held it tight to her chest. “I was reading that.”

“I don’t want you to read that,” she whined.

“Why? It’s my suit.”

She grunted. It sounded annoyed. “What?” I said.

“First of all.” She twisted around so she was facing me. “Spoilers. If you read the whole thing, there won’t be any surprises for later, and didn’t you like this surprise?” She pointed a finger and booped my nose, and I flinched a little.

“And second. I thought you said you were gonna be Jen all day, so why are you acting like plain old Mark in a woman suit?”

I blinked a few times. “I… am Mark in a woman suit. How else am I supposed to be Jen?”

She stared at me for a few seconds before her expression softened. “Nevermind.”

“What? Wh-what’s wrong?” I craned my neck forward to look at her.

“I was just being selfish, is all.” She just turned over and buried her head into my chest. “This is the greatest Christmas present you’ve ever gotten me, and I love you so much, and thank you,” she mumbled, her voice muffled. It tickled to have her breathing air into that spot, and I giggled and squirmed. “Is something the matter?” she added, looking up innocently.

“Don’t you dare—” I began.

It was too late. She pressed her face back in and started motorboating me, and I shrieked like a teenager.

The day passed without much further event. We opened the rest of the gifts, played some video games (stopping after I pulped a controller by mistake), and had dinner by candlelight—followed by sloppy candlelight makeouts.

By the end, I was feeling pretty tired, considering how little I’d actually done all day. We’d been indoors the whole time, but spending that time in a heavy exoskeleton—even a heavy exoskeleton that did almost all the heavy lifting for you—made it a lot more draining. Finally, as Robin was getting ready for bed, I yawned, disrobed, and stuck a finger inside my vaginal opening.

“What are you doing?” she said through a mouthful of toothpaste.

“Getting out for the night,” I answered, as my fingers looked for the seam.

“Actually, one sec!”

Robin spat out her toothpaste, then took me by the hand and led me into the bedroom, where she picked up the charging cable I’d ignored earlier that day. Now that I looked at it, it was pretty odd: there were prongs to go into a wall socket, but the other end was smooth and circular, like a stethoscope’s diaphragm. “Check this out,” she said, and plugged it into the wall, holding the other end to my bare waist.

A little lightning icon lit up on the circle, and when she let go of it, it stayed attached to my waist. “It’s got an electromagnet that keeps it on,” she explained with an excited grin, “and it charges your insides through your skin! You could stay inside twenty-four seven if you wanted to!”

“That is… really cool.” I sagged. “But… I am so not up to that. I wanna—Mark wants to go to bed.”

She sighed. “Okay, fair enough. Just… let me leave the room first.” She sidled around me and backed out of the bedroom. “I don’t wanna watch you turn yourself inside out.” I shrugged as she closed the door. “Oh,” she called through the wood, “to exit you say: Erotech Override, Disengage Suit.”

I frowned. It was the second time she’d wanted me to be more… Jen. What did that mean, exactly?

Getting out of the suit was pretty easy, compared to getting in. I pulled the vaginal opening wide, then down over my legs, revealing the sleek robotic undercarriage beneath. From there it was a simple matter to pull the skin up my waist and over my head, like a tight-fitting shirt. I dropped it on the floor, leaving a bare robot body. After taking a moment to ensure the suit was facing the right way out, I glanced at the mirror, did a little wave goodbye, and said, “Erotech Override: Disengage Suit”.

The back opened with a little hiss, and the probes pulled out of my body—I winced as they left, but luxuriated a little at the cool air on my regular human back. Then I pulled myself out—taking extra care with the dentures and nose tubes—and carefully lowered myself to the floor.

Now that I was out, and just Mark again, a few things became noticeable. My skin was covered with a fine layer of sweat, my ankles and wrists were a little stiff (but nothing too bad), and it was definitely easier to breathe. But more than all of that, I felt so… small. Such a tiny regular human.

When I opened the door, and saw Robin standing at basically my own height, I couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Thankfully, that feeling went away when she stepped in and gave me a kiss as passionate and tongue-filled as any she’d blessed Jen with. “You,” she said as she pulled back, “were so good.”

“It was great for me too,” I said, laughing a little. “Thanks for everything.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” She smiled. “We’ve barely even started.”

The bed was still very broken, so we pulled sheets and blankets from it and lay on the couch cushions, leaving Jen alone in the bedroom. Robin fell asleep quickly at my side—she was the quickest, heaviest sleeper I had ever met in my life—but I stared at the ceiling a little longer.

Why are you acting like plain old Mark in a woman suit?

I took a deep breath, held it for five seconds, then let it out. Then I sat on our new couch, picked up the pencil with my giant fingers, and wrote, Hello, my name is Jen on the piece of paper. The pencil’s little scratches, and Robin’s snores from the bedroom, were the only sounds in the apartment.

The pencil didn’t even crack.

I smirked with Jen’s mouth.

It had been a few days since Christmas, and they had been great days. Pretty much every day after work (or just in the afternoon for weekend days), I’d suit up as Jen, grab Robin, and fuck her until she couldn’t see straight. Robin, meanwhile, had wasted no time buying new furniture: a reinforced bed, a sturdy couch, and a bunch of other items that could stand the weight of someone like Jen. And I hadn’t hesitated to fuck her on all of them.

But I couldn’t get that question out of my mind. Why are you acting like plain old Mark in a woman suit?

So, after Robin had gone to bed (thank goodness she was such a sound sleeper), I’d suit up again. Night after night to practice walking around, writing, typing, all sorts of things. I wasn’t sure what it was Robin was looking for in Jen, but I figured that whatever it was, I’d stand a better chance of pulling it off if I had full control of the suit’s functions.

I sighed, pushed myself off the couch, then dropped down for my third set of crunches that evening. Besides fine motor control, I’d been working on endurance. My aim was to be at least as energetic in the suit as Robin was out of it, and considering that the suit was somewhat draining to wear, that was a challenge.

By the time I finished my reps, I was gleaming with sweat. One thing Robin had told me about the mechanicals of the suit was that it had an internal store of water, replenished whenever I drank, that got used for everything from saliva to vaginal secretions. I still didn’t get what was stopping her from showing me the rest of the manual: she’d hidden it and I didn’t know where to look.

In any case, it was too late for this. I walked over to the bedroom and reached for my slit. As I was reaching, my intent was to pull Jen off and get in bed; by the time I’d actually gotten down there, that intent had dissipated. To hell with it: I was too tired to deal with that.

With a yawn, I fell into bed as I was, right next to Robin. The mattress bounced her a bit, and she murmured for a second, but didn’t otherwise react. Thank goodness she was a heavy sleeper.

My left hand reached out, grabbed the charging cable, and pressed it against my hip to adhere there. My right hand stayed buried within me as I let my head fall limply to the side, staring over at Robin. Her short black hair fell messily onto the pillow, framing her pretty little face.

(a little ring of pressure, of pleasure, ran up and down my trapped member)

She was so beautiful. My motions got faster, less careful and less quiet, and I started making little grunts, pushing more fingers in.

(the ring got wider, moved faster, gripped harder)

I hadn’t yet climaxed from masturbation as Jen. After all, almost all the time I wore her was time I was spending with Robin, and whenever she saw me taking care of myself, she’d jump in and take care of me instead. But Robin was asleep now.

(it was vibrating now, intensifying as I sped up, and there seemed to be no limit to it)

“Oh,” I whispered, “oh, oh.” I groped at my breasts with my free hand. The bed rocked as I squirmed, and pressure built in my nether regions. My right hand was moving so furiously that I was snagging bits of my hair as I went. I closed my eyes, imagining for a moment how I must look—flushed, desperate, longing.

(couldn’t hold out any longer)

As I opened them, and as I saw Robin again, I climaxed.

My hips bucked half a dozen times, and my hand got slick with the suit’s cum. I let out a satisfied sigh, wiped it on my midriff, and then rolled over a little so I was facing Robin with my whole body.

Slowly, I leaned in and kissed her forehead. “I love you so much,” I whispered. I reached one gentle hand around and pulled her closer to my body, so that I was draped over her. In that comfortable position—though really, every position was comfortable for Jen—I fell asleep.

I just wish I knew what you wanted.

“Hey,” said the little whisper.

I felt all swaddled up and warm, and very lazy. I didn’t wanna wake up.

“Wake up, sleepyhead.” A hand was rustling through my hair.

I rumbled and opened my eyes. Robin smiled back at me. “Good morning, Jen,” she whispered.

Oh. Right. I was still in the suit.

“So how was it?” she asked, scooching a little closer under my arm.

I smiled. Then I pushed my right arm under her body and held her in a tight hug—not tight enough to hurt, but enough that she wasn’t getting out. “Noooo, I need to go to worrrrrk,” she whined, but she didn’t sound all that concerned.

“Call in sick,” I said.

“That sounds great. But seriously, I should probably—”

I leaned in close to her ear and hissed, “Call in sick.”

She got all still and flushed. “Okay,” she whispered back.

That was the day before New Year’s Eve, and the two of us had both the eve and the day off. When I finally got finished with wearing Jen, I took her off and got a shower, luxuriating in the thoughts of the two days we’d spend together….

And then I got out, toweled myself off, and saw Robin packing up. “What’s up?” I asked.

“What do you mean, what’s up?” She didn’t look up from her packing.

“Like… where are you going?”

“Spending New Year’s with my college friends?” She gave me a stare. “You know, from theater class? Come on, Mark, I told you about this like three weeks ago.”

“I… guess?” I squinted: it was hard to be sure. “I kind of figured we were gonna spend more time… together?” I raised my eyebrows twice, meaningfully.

“That sounds amazing, and you were so good today that I’m almost convinced, but I kind of promised them.” She sighed sadly. “I’ve gotta get going quick if I don’t wanna miss my train. Don’t have too much fun without me!” She hefted her duffel and walked toward the door.

“Uh… Happy New Year?”

“Happy New Year,” she said, smiling back at me. Then the door shut.

I went to bed quickly that night, leaving the suit in the closet. Robin wasn’t even going to be here. What was the point of practicing?

“Thirty eight, thirty nine, forty. All right. No pain, no gain. Forty one, forty two….”

The voice was familiar, although I wasn’t sure why. But it wasn’t the familiarity of the voice that woke me up, that got my eyes wide with concern. It was the existence of the voice. In my apartment, where no one else should be.

And then I glanced over at the closet. And it was empty.

“Forty seven, forty eight, forty… niiiiiine….”

Okay, not completely empty. There was the usual assortment of bedsheets, formal wear, and out of season clothes. But when you’re used to seeing a seven foot tall robot woman in your closet, the closet definitely looks empty when the robot is missing.

And now I knew why the voice was familiar, yet strange. It sounded different when I wasn’t the one using it.

My heart pounded as I crept out my bedroom door and saw Jen. Jen, in loose-fitting track-pants and a sports bra which I’d never seen before, standing next to a rack of weights that we didn’t own. She faced away from me, which meant I could see how her massive hair had been wrangled into a loose ponytail. In her hands were the two weights from the bottom of the rack, and she was doing curls.

Jen. Moving, as far as I could tell, on her own.

“Fifty!” With a little shout of triumph, Jen brought the right weight up one last time; then she crouched down and placed both of them on the floor. She stood and did some stretches with her arms, still facing away from me.

“Um,” I finally managed.

She stopped mid stretch, then looked over her shoulder. “Oh, hey. You’re her boyfriend, right?” Keeping her eyes on me, she turned around slowly, showing off a front that was just as coated with sweat as her back had been. “Hm. Thought you’d be bigger.”

“Hh. Uh?”

“I guess I woke you up, huh.” She shrugged in a rotating motion, apparently trying to release tension in her shoulders. “Yeah, your girlfriend said I could make myself at home, and at home I always do my morning reps first thing, so… tough, I guess.” She stuck out her hand. “Nice to meet you. You’re Mark, right?”

“Erm.” I took her hand. Then winced as she shook it, squeezing hard enough I was worried something would crack. “Uh, what are you doing here?”

“Just passing through. Robin said if I was ever in the area, I could crash at her apartment. Got a problem with that?”

“Rrrright.” I got my hand back, and held it gingerly with the other one. “But… uh, who are you?”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “That’s insulting. She really never brought me up?” A smirk broke out on her face. “The name’s Jen.”

Part III - Jen Harder

Robin has left the apartment, leaving just Mark and Jen to get to know each other. More importantly, they get to know themselves, in ways they wouldn’t have thought possible.
There’s one last part to come, but I wanted to submit this before the year was over, especially since it’s actually set on New Year’s Eve. Enjoy!

“Wow,” Jen said, looking around, “this apartment is kinda shitty. I hope it has a shower at least?”

I wordlessly glanced back toward the bathroom, less as an answer and more as a reaction.

“Well, that’s something at least.” Then, as if I weren’t surprised enough, she stripped—right there in the living room, trackpants then bra. She tossed both at my face, and I caught them without verbal protest. “Those are kinda rank. Wash ’em for me, okay?”

Nude as the day she’d been born—no, wait, the day she’d come out of the box?—Jen strode into the bathroom, and then called back, “Or don’t, if you’re into that. Little pervert.” She shut the door, or at least I wish she’d shut the door. It was more of a slam, and I thought I heard something crack.

My head was spinning as I wandered over to the couch and slumped down, and the fumes from the gym clothes weren’t helping. Jen was a real person? But no, stupid, the robot was missing from our closet. So someone was in the apartment, wearing Jen—but Robin had said she was out with friends, right?

The water started running in the bathroom.

Tossing the clothes aside, I returned to my bedroom and found my phone, ready to call Robin and ask what the hell was going on—but it buzzed with a communication before I could reach it. Robin had texted me first.

Hey, Mark! I am so sorry but my college friend Jen wanted to stay over for New Year’s and she doesn’t really take no for an answer so she’ll be crashing there for a few days. She can be a bit domineering—she’s the kind of girl who likes to show you how it’s done—but I’m sure you’ll find a way to push back if she’s too much. Have fun!

PS: Safe word is still pomegranate.

I blinked a few times, but at least my head wasn’t spinning quite as much. The reference to a safe word—something we’d adopted as I was still getting used to the suit’s strength, and Robin had needed a way to distinguish between fun pain and real pain—was all the confirmation I needed. Robin was the one in Jen, which I guess meant the New Year’s trip had been a clever fabrication.

The biggest question had been struck down, but like a hydra’s heads, several further questions were already growing. Where had she gotten the clothes, the workout equipment? If Robin wanted to use Jen so much, why didn’t she just ask? And perhaps most of all—

Why are you acting like plain old Mark in a woman suit?

Was this tied into what Robin seemed to think of as my, uh, performance issues? Was this me screwing up as Jen, and having the keys taken away from me? Was this—

The water shut off. That alone wasn’t enough to break me out of my self-doubting spiral. What was enough was when the bathroom door slammed open and Jen emerged, still bare naked and still soaking wet.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I said, scrambling out of the bedroom. “You’re dripping water all over the floor!”

She glanced at me. “So?”

“So you have to dry off first!” Why would Robin not dry off?

“Yeah, uh, no.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Towel drying messes up the mane. Better to air dry.”

“Then what about the rest of you?” I gestured to the other seven feet of dripping tan skin.

She stared at me, then smirked and turned toward the fridge. “You’re a funny little man. Dry me off yourself if you care about it that much, pussy.” She yanked on the fridge door and leaned down, exposing everything. “You got eggs? I go through eggs like that guy from Beauty and the Beast.”

“For the love of—” I went to the bathroom and grabbed the largest towel. Jen was still at the refrigerator when I got out, so at least all the water was pooling in one spot. I started mopping it up with the towel, not looking at her assets, but then I heard a shaking sound from above me. “Come on!” I complained, as a sudden fresh rainfall basically undid all my progress.

“Oops. Sorry,” Jen lied. When I looked up, the smirk on her face had upgraded to sadistic. The nerve of this woman, barging into an apartment and making a mess and she didn’t even live here—

That was Robin in there. I knew it was Robin in there. And yet, in that moment, I had just forgotten.

I stared up for several seconds. Right between Jen’s dripping legs.

Jen noticed and smirked. “Yeah, I get that a lot. Wish you had a body like this, huh? Now get toweling, pussy, and if you mess up my hair I’ll kick your ass.”

I got toweling. I was kind of expecting it to be a sort of shared experience, something Robin and I could have fun with while I rubbed her body in all of her most intimate places.

If only Jen had given a shit. What might have been a sensual experience ended up being more like a chore as I dried her legs, made an attempt on her torso and breasts, but more or less gave up on her arms. She was using those arms to pick through my and Robin’s fridge, and tossing stuff out when it wasn’t what she wanted—which was most of the contents of the fridge. At least she was standing still, even if her arms didn’t stop moving.

Finally, as she stood up with her breakfast ingredients, I was basically done. As I made to get a fresh towel for all the water that had dripped, however, she grabbed me with one arm and pulled me close. I should say here that my head was roughly level with her breasts.

“You’re a real helpful guy,” she purred. “Does Robin get this sort of special treatment, or… how does that old song go? Don’tcha wish your girlfriend was hot like me?”

I squirmed in her grasp, because I literally couldn’t breathe in that position. Ten seconds later, when she laughed and released me, I had to heave a big breath, and then a few smaller breaths to make sure. Then I looked down and realized I was at half mast under my boxers.

I retreated to the bathroom as Jen got to making her breakfast, and I got a second towel. Cleaning up the rest of the spilled water didn’t take too long, and I was able to stand up in time to see her rip apart my last egg into the pan. Then she grabbed the pan, turning the handle into pulp. “Hey!” I exclaimed.

“Whoops,” she said, still smiling as she let go. “Guess you’d better make it for me, unless you want me to keep using all your wimpy fucking cookware.”

She gestured toward the pan in mocking imitation of a concierge, inviting me. With a growl, I took the sadly distorted handle and got cooking. It was a massive omelet, composed of an entire dozen eggs and various meats and cheeses besides, but it was pretty clear by now that it wouldn’t be big enough to share.

“Pussy,” Jen whispered from the seat she’d taken at the kitchen island. If it was any consolation, my manhood wasn’t interested anymore, so at least that wasn’t getting in the way.

When I was done, I didn’t bother splitting the omelet onto two plates, but slid it onto one big one. “There you go,” Jen crowed as I put it in front of her along with cutlery. “I knew there had to be a reason Robin kept you around.”

She devoured the omelet with incredible ferocity, and my first thought was that of course a giant like her would do that—then I did a double take, because I was pretty sure Robin didn’t usually have that kind of appetite. But the double take had taken several seconds, and Jen was nearly done eating by then.

“Good stuff,” she said, putting down her fork. Predictably, the fork’s handle was mangled. “Guess you can make your breakfast now, if you want.”

If you’ve left me anything to eat, you asshole, I thought. Out loud, I said, “So, Jen, how do you know Robin?”

“Oh, I know Robin. I’ve known her since college.” Jen’s snort suggested a joke, but I wasn’t catching it. “We met back then and I’ve been in touch ever since. She can’t get enough of me!”

“Right. Sorry Robin’s not here,” I said, taking a seat opposite her. “She’s out of town with some of her other friends. I guess that messes up whatever you had planned while you were here?”

“Nah, not that much.” She shrugged, leaning back in her chair. “I mean, yeah, would have been nice to hook up again, but I figured I’d just pump iron, watch TV, yadda yadda yadda. Oh yeah, speaking of which.”

She got up from her chair and made her way to the couch, where she sprawled. It had been reinforced over the last week to take her weight, so that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that her hair was still soaking wet, all over the couch. And she was still naked.

“Um,” I said. “Are you going to put anything on?”

“Why? Robin always said I could make myself at home.”

She fumbled for a remote, and I had a horrible prophetic vision of pulverized plastic before I grabbed the remote and turned the TV on for her. “How about I just get you some underwear,” I said.

“God, fine, if it’ll stop you from whining. They’re in my bag.”

The bag had been left in the living room. I opened it and saw a variety of clothes, most of them gym-related: I had to dig to the bottom of the bag to find underwear, which was a plain bra and panties. “Here,” I said, tossing them at her.

“Whatever,” she said, pulling them on with as little effort as possible. “Where’s the pro wrestling on here? Or would you rather change the channel yourself, mister butler?”

She didn’t wait for a response before tossing the remote at me. It kind of hurt as it hit my chest, too, but all I could do was find the right channel. It took a minute—I never watched this stuff. “I don’t know why people like this,” I said. “It’s all fake.”

“Movies are fake too, dipshit, and you watch those. It’s not about whether you know it’s fake, it’s whether you can believe it’s real.” She put both arms behind her head and lounged, watching the action. “You got snacks? I could use some snacks.”

“No. You just ate.”

“What am I gonna do, watch wrestling and not have chips? Go get some, you prick!”

I took a deep breath in, then out. It was time to put my foot down. “No. Get them yourself.”

She stared at me for a few seconds, and it was very hard to hold her gaze. “Hey, come over here a sec, Mark?” she said at last, breaking eye contact. “I think I got a problem with a bra strap back here or something.”

I rolled my eyes, but stood up and walked over to her.

Big mistake. As soon as I was close enough, she sat up like a jack in the box, and her hand shot out from behind her head to grab mine. Before I could react, she’d dragged me as easily as carrying a teddy bear, shoving my head down at her crotch.

“Let’s make something clear, pussy,” she said, as I flailed under the weight of her hand. Her other hand pulled her panties down, and then she forced my face into her muff. “I do what I want. And with a bod like mine, other people do what I want too. Now have some breakfast.”

I flailed as long as I could, but it was like being held down by a statue: Jen wasn’t moving. Without other options, I started licking unenthusiastically. “Lick harder!” she sneered, mashing my face forward again. “You’re not getting up until I let you!”

I licked harder, tasting and smelling her sweat in the back of my nose. I’d performed cunnilingus for Robin before, and done it with vigor and creativity, really working my hardest to please her. This was nothing like that. I was licking hard, but I wasn’t putting anything more work into it than that, and I didn’t even want to. Mostly I was thinking whether I wanted to try pronouncing “pomegranate” like this.

Jen was right, it seemed. I knew Robin was in there, but I couldn’t believe it.

Eventually, I finished, or rather Jen did. She panted harder and harder, her hips bucking into my face violently enough to bruise, until she let out a gasp—and squirted into my throat. I wasn’t ready enough for it, and found myself gasping and coughing as she finally released me.

“That’s how you start the day,” she said, stretching out like a tiger. “Workout, breakfast, and facefuck some loser. This is gonna be a fun New Year’s.”

I spat out the parts of her squirt that I couldn’t swallow. “How were you and Robin ever friends!?”

She stared at me for a few seconds. Then she burst out laughing. “Friends?” she spluttered. “Is that what she told you? To spare your feelings, little man? Let me give you a better picture of our relationship: Robin’s the one who spent most of her time where you just were.”

I blinked. Several times. “She what?”

“And you know what else?” She sat up, and her grin was like a tiger too. “She loved it. She couldn’t get enough of it! Biggest sub ever—or I guess littlest. She would beg for me to hold her down, wanted nothing more than a big, strong hand shoving her into my crotch.”

She snorted. “God, she really settled with you, huh? I should have come back sooner to save her from you, you little manlet. No way are you giving her what she’s looking for.”

“Hey, that’s not….” I looked at the floor, hands balling into fists. That had hurt way more than the grabbing. “Shut up.”

“Oh, wow, you’re just rippling with dominant energy. Tell you what, when Robin comes back you can both fuck me, pussy. I mean, if I don’t decide to have just her do it and make you watch.” She frowned. “On second thought, you look like the kind of beta who’d enjoy that.”

“I said shut up.” My hands were shaking.

And then she was laughing again. “Whoa, easy, dude! Just kidding. I’d need to wait to ask her when she gets back.” She winked, then returned her attention to the TV—it hadn’t turned off, but I hadn’t heard a word of it in two minutes. “You know what?” she said. “I’m thinking pizza for the snack. Get me a pizza—you can have some too, I guess, if I don’t finish it.”

I took a shaky breath. “Why are you like this?”

She smiled. “I’m the biggest, baddest bitch around. Why wouldn’t I be like this? I mean, who’s gonna stop me?” Her eyes flicked my way. “You?”

It was too much. I turned around and stomped back to my bedroom, trying not to scream.

Five minutes later, I was dressed, and calm enough to think about this rationally.

Robin was roleplaying. This was just a bit of fun. If I used the safeword, she would stop and this charade would be over. So therefore, logically speaking, none of the things she was saying mattered—and in fact those things weren’t any truer than, say, pro wrestling. Robin hadn’t known Jen in college, she hadn’t gotten facefucked daily by Jen in college, and she didn’t actually prefer Jen to me….

And that was where rationality broke down. If the last week was any indication, Robin did prefer Jen to me. Even if the strict facts of Jen’s previous ’life’ were lies, that part was true enough.

Did she know how much it hurt to hear her say that? Even through another mouth?

(The way she’d just pulled me down to her crotch, to be used—)

I slammed my fist on the bed, and it did nothing to help. I’d asked Why are you like this?, fully immersed in the fiction that was Jen, but the better question was—why was Robin doing this? What was she trying to do?

The obvious first answer was that this was an abject, in-your-face lesson—and that part was painfully literal, my cheeks still ached—about how to perform as Jen. And I had to admit, if that was the goal, mission accomplished. By virtue of being such an unimaginable asshole, Jen could fully convince me she was 100% real.

But… there was another true thing Jen had said. Robin was very submissive. Even when she tried to push me into new sexual territory, I was always meant to be in the dominant role—hypnotizing her, tying her up, and so on. She’d never actually tried to dominate me, not even as an example.

So did she want me to walk in, say the safe word, and ask for us to switch so I could show off? No, because judging by how much Robin didn’t want me to break character while in Jen, it was clear that she would never want to do it herself. So what could I do?

Who’s gonna stop me? You?

I sat up in bed.

She can be a bit domineering… but I’m sure you’ll find a way to push back if she’s too much.

There was something I could do.

Have fun!

The manual wasn’t that hard to find—Robin had hidden it under the mattress on her side. And once I’d had some time to read it thoroughly without interruption, I was able to find some very interesting things indeed.

And as I read through, memorizing the manual, a plan formed in my mind.

I downloaded the most interesting thing onto my phone, then ran it. The Erotech logo flashed on screen, and followed by a few seconds of Searching for compatible device…. I waited with bated breath, until the confirmation appeared: Device paired. Welcome to your fantasy.

What appeared next was Jen. Jen, staring neutrally ahead like a mannequin, her body posed like she was lying on an invisible couch, with a long list of controls to her right. I scrolled through them, getting familiar with the system in ways that just reading a manual didn’t allow. The UI was amazingly intuitive and easy to work with, which meant that before long, it was time for the plan to start.

Phase one of the plan: a couple tests to make sure the controls were working.

I stood as if to leave the bedroom, but thought better of it: it would be a lot harder to stay in character if I were in the room, visibly controlling Jen. And as much as this plan was about giving Robin a good time… it was mostly about getting revenge on that domineering bitch Jen, and I wouldn’t give her a chance to break character and slip through my fingers.

Fortunately, there was a backup plan. I zoomed the screen in on mannequin Jen’s eyes, tapped them, and selected an option in the context menu—and a video feed popped up in the top right. It gave me a first person video of Jen’s massive, tanned body lying on my couch, her breasts in gloriously full view. I would be very happy to watch from here.

Test one. I put one finger on each of mannequin Jen’s hands, held them down until they were both selected, and then dragged them up above her head, bringing her arms with them.

Real Jen’s arms moved in her peripheral vision, and I heard a crash. Jen made a noise of mild surprise and looked back to where her arms were, and I winced to see that I’d made her knock a lamp off the end table by the sofa. Judging by the sound—

“Hey, loser!” Jen’s voice came through my door and the app at slightly different times, resulting in a slight echo. “I just stretched and broke some of your shit. Clean it up when you’re done ordering that pizza!”

—yup, it had shattered. But the test had worked. I released her arms, and after a moment she put them back by her side, shrugging. Whether or not Robin suspected anything, it was clear Jen had no clue.

(Robin was away with friends. Jen was here, about to get what was coming to her.)

Time for test two. I let my thumb slide down mannequin Jen’s body, down right between her legs, and pressed the button. When the context menu appeared, I selected the vibration control and slid it up to medium.

Jen, audible only through the first person video, purred with pleasure. “God, I’m so good,” she murmured, flexing her body with pleasure, displaying her panties clearly for me to see. “I’m so fucking hot….” Another successful test.

It was time to move onto the next phase of the plan. I zoomed in on the fingers of her left hand, curled them inward, and then took over the entire hand. In one smooth motion, I pulled it from her side down to her crotch, watching on screen as it slid underneath her panties, and started her masturbating.

“Mm, yeah,” Jen said, grinding her clit against her fingers. “Fuck yes….” I gave her a little more help, taking control of her right hand and directing it to grab under her bra. “I’m so fucking hot,” she repeated, rubbing and grabbing even more enthusiastically than I was directing her to.

And she was right. Her body was so fucking hot. It had been hot enough when I was controlling her from inside, but controlling her from the outside? My member was straining to achieve full mast under my jeans, and it took all my self control not to grab it and join Jen in activity. The plan didn’t have room for that kind of fun—yet.

As I kept manipulating my little puppet, and as Jen’s breaths got faster and louder, an arousal meter was building on the right side of the screen. It had been holding steady at half when I opened the program—Jen was always horny—but now it was going up fast. “Oh, fuck yeah,”

Jen panted, “I’m gonna cum—”

Alert, said a new popup on my screen, Orgasm imminent. And I had options.

With an evil grin on my face as I closed the video, I walked out of my bedroom and held down the button in the middle.

Delay.

“What the fuck!?” I yelled, seeing—for the first time, obviously—Jen on my fucking couch, masturbating over the spot where Robin liked to sit. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” One hand was behind my back, holding the delay button on the phone.

Jen looked at me, almost embarrassed—but not quite. “Oh, fuck you,” she said, her arms stopping their movement as she saw me (or maybe it was because I wasn’t making them move). “I was so close and then you come here with your limp dick energy, and—”

“You can’t just fucking squirt all over my couch, you asshole!” I walked over, clearly beside myself, trying not to grin. “Were you raised by fucking pigs?”

“You wouldn’t know, but when you’re as great as I am,” Jen grunted, hands still holding herself tight, “sometimes you just can’t stop yourself from—”

“You’re not great,” I said, my voice cutting across hers as I stood over her. “You’re just a bratty little bitch.”

And with my free hand, I slapped her hard across the face.

Her response was immediate. She sat up and snarled, “Oh you are fucking dead, you piece of—”

But my reaction was just behind. I swiped my hidden thumb from Delay to Trigger.

“Shi—shiiiiii—” The word cut off as her hips bucked involuntarily, and she let out a high pitched cry. Her eyes rolled up in her head, her tongue lolled out, and fluid squirted past her clenched fingers to stain my couch.

It took ten seconds for the orgasm to finish having its way with her. I busied myself by releasing Jen’s arms, setting the vibration to the lowest setting above zero, and turning something else way up.

Finally she was still and silent—no more cries of pleasure. She stared at me, and I stared at her, and while my surprise wasn’t genuine I sure as hell hoped hers was. I spoke first: “Did you just….”

“You didn’t see anything,” she said.

“Did you just get off on me slapping you? And calling you a little bitch?”

“I fucking didn’t!” She hastily pulled her underwear back into place. “Why would I get off on a little manlet like you calling me that—”

“Calling you what?” I said coolly, but a smile was taking over my face.

“You know what you said! Calling me a—” I briefly revved the vibration just in time for her to stumble over, “Li-little bitch….”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I said, pointing with my free hand. “Look at you, you’re blushing!”

She stood up fast and stepped toward me, smashing the coffee table underfoot. “I’m not fucking blushing!”

“Wanna go look?”

She growled and stumbled to the bathroom, yanked the bathroom door off the hinges—and froze. On her face was a deep red blush.

I strode in behind her, relishing the blush I’d put there, and the wide eyes that were all Jen. “You love this! There you are acting like some kind of jock dominatrix, and you’re secretly the world’s biggest sub!”

I slapped her ass for emphasis, and she yelped (with a little help from the vibrator spinning up again). “Shut up,” she grumbled.

I laughed out loud. “Oh man, did Robin know about this? Did she make you eat her out in college? Hold on, I’m gonna text her—”

As I raised my phone in front of myself, she turned to me with horror on her face, though it had to fight with the blush for real estate. “Don’t tell her!”

I couldn’t help but notice that was a plea, not a threat. I ignored her regardless, and pulled up my text messages. “Hey Robin,” I narrated as I typed, “don’t worry about Jen. It turns out she’s really into—”

“Please don’t send that!” She grabbed my arm, but not to crush it, and looked at me with supplication in her eyes. So now we’re saying please, eh?

“Why not?” My voice was cold. “Breaking my things, eating my food, insulting me every time you open your mouth—you’ve been a brat to me all morning. If I don’t send this message—” I held it out for her to see “—how are you going to make it worth my while, you little bitch?”

She quivered at that with no prompting. So she’d finally caught on. I took the opportunity to switch my phone back to Erotech’s app, select her knees, and choose the top option on the menu.

Jen kneeled before me, eyes widening for a second at her own submission. Then she twisted her expression into one of pride, despite her humiliating secret.

“That’s a good start,” I said, and stepped forward. Even kneeling, she was still nearly at my eye level, not that she was meeting my eyes. “Don’t worry, you won’t have to do much. You just have to fix all the things you broke in here. And then, maybe I’ll agree not to tell Robin our little secret. Or then again….” I patted a hand gently against her cheek, and she narrowed her eyes at me. “Maybe I won’t.”

Jen was a terrible maid. I pretended to be angry about this.

“You have to pick it all up!” I said, sitting across from the couch as she grabbed the largest remains of the smashed lamp and threw them in a trashbag. I was idly tapping on my phone, not that she could see what I was doing.

“Who gives a shit?” she snarled, straightening up and leaving the floor covered in little ceramic shards.

“I give a shit.” I waggled my phone. “Robin’s only a text away, remember?”

She grumbled. “Where’s your fucking dustpan?”

“Under the sink.”

She stomped over and grabbed it, then stomped back and swept up the shards with so much vehemence you’d think they’d insulted her. “There,” she said, dumping it in the bag. “You happy, asshole?”

I stood up. “No, I’m not happy. You’re the one who broke this, and I’m pretty sick of all the attitude I’m getting just because I told you to clean up your own mess.” I walked over to her. “Take off your clothes.”

She squinted. “What?”

“You heard me. Off.”

“Uh, okay?” She hooked her thumbs into her panties and stepped out of them, then unhooked her bra, leaving her nude once more. “Is this supposed to be some sort of punishment?” she asked, her tone more confused than derisive. “I wasn’t even wearing this shit until you got all whiny about it, I don’t care—”

I grabbed her nipple and twisted, hard. She cut herself off with a little cry.

“Who cares what you think?” I slid my thumb across the vibrator control, pushing it up the more I twisted, and she let out a little moan. “This is just so I have easier access.” She winced, and her knees turned slightly inward.

I released her. “Don’t get off on this too hard,” I said with a cold smile. “I mean, haven’t you dripped around here enough? Get a towel and clean off my floor.”

She walked to the bathroom, and I turned up her blush just in time for her to be able to see it in the mirror. She froze there for a second, then ripped a towel from its bar like she was trying to hurt it. “You should probably dry your hair first,” I called, “so it doesn’t keep making a mess.”

Jen stopped at the bathroom threshold, then groaned and spent a minute blotting her long hair dry. There, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Then she walked out of the bathroom, tossed the towel on the floor, and started pushing it around with her foot.

She sure was putting a lot of effort into putting in the minimum amount of effort. I had to roll my eyes. “Do it ri-ight,” I said in a mild singsong.

She let out a growl, then bent down and took the towel in her hands. I appreciated how, instead of just bending her knees and crouching, she had bent double and left her legs straight—and her ass nice and exposed under a tantalizing veil of hair.

I waited until she was wiping off the couch before I walked over by the ruined coffee table, raised my hand, and spanked her.

“Agh!” Her back convulsed. “What the fuck—”

“Keep working,” I said, tapping away at my phone. “And I don’t want you moving those feet either.”

“I’ll move this foot into your ass—”

“No,” I said, selecting the Freeze option on both her legs. “You won’t.”

She twitched, but her legs remained fixed in an A-framed position that left nothing to the imagination, and she couldn’t bring herself to move them.

“And do you know why you won’t?” I brought my hand back again, holding it out so she could see, and brought it down on her ass again. She let out something that was less like a yelp, more like a moan. “Because you love this.”

“Fuck you—”

“Never said you could stop cleaning.” I spanked her again, and she convulsed.

She continued rubbing the couch, but her wet hair had gotten all over it and it would take a while to dry off. I brushed some of her hair aside to get a better view of the goods. “It must have been so rough for you, Jen, huh?”

“What?” she said, before crying out at another spank. Her voice broke on that one.

“Don’t talk, just listen. Everyone must have seen a huge girl like you and thought, she’s a terror. She’s so big and strong and mean, she must love to boss people around.” I wasn’t mocking her as I spoke, though: my hand cupped her bruised rear, and my voice was gentle. “How could you ever have shown this side of yourself to them?”

I could see her jaw working, but her mouth didn’t move, and she kept drying.

“It must have been so hard.” I rubbed her with both hands, caressing her along her lower body. “Never able to get what you needed. You couldn’t even tell Robin about it—you had to play big mean dom Jen with her. But it’s okay now,” I said, now so far forward that I was leaning on her pelvis. “You don’t have to hide anything from me.”

“You,” she said, but she couldn’t bring herself to say more.

“Yeah, me. So what does a nice girl like you say when someone does something for her?” I leaned back, and slid the vibration up on my phone.

She blushed, but didn’t speak right away—she seemed to be biting her tongue. “Come on,” I prompted.

“Th….” She looked at the wall instead of at me. “Thnnku,” she mumbled.

“What was that?” I raised my hand and spanked her again, hard enough that my palm stung.

“Fuck! Thank you!” she hissed. “Happy?”

“Not as happy as you’re about to be. Keep working, but say it each time.”

“Each time what—” was all she managed to say before I slapped her ass again. “Agh! Thank you!”

Slap.

“Thank you!”

Slap.

“Oh, god, thank you!”

With every spank, Jen’s proclamation of gratitude lost a bit of its angry edge. More and more of that pretense kept falling away, aided by the vibrations I was controlling inside her. I even prompted a little slickness to dribble down her leg, and she definitely felt that. By the time I reached twenty, she was panting with pleasure.

But to her credit, she never stopped wiping down the couch. “There!” she finally panted after the twentieth spank, tossing the towel aside. “It’s all done, you….” She trailed off—apparently no anatomical insult sprung to mind.

“Oh, now you’re not sure what to call me?” I released the locks on her legs. “You can’t go wrong with sir.”

She digested that for a few seconds. Then, looking down at the couch…. “It’s all done… sir.”

I ramped up the vibration almost to the top on that last word. A tremor went all through her body, and I had to tap my phone quickly to delay another orgasm. “No, don’t go squirting again,” I said, waggling my finger as I returned my phone to my pocket. “You just did all that work to clean up.”

“You jackass, are you going to stand there or….” She gulped, remembering her place, and let her rear squirm invitingly. “Are you going to help me finish? Sir? I’m so close?”

“Hmm….” I tapped my chin in a pantomime of thought, as if I hadn’t already decided. “Well, unfortunately, you’re not quite done.”

She let out a little whine, and I saw a little despair in her eyes as the orgasm slipped just out of reach.

“You see,” I continued, gesturing down below me, “you seem to have destroyed my table.” It was one of the reinforced ones we’d bought over the last week, but it hadn’t been built to support the shock load of Jen’s megaton stomp. “And I don’t see any other replacement here.”

“Any other?” she said, her confusion clear.

I smiled.

About ten minutes later, I was sitting on the couch with my feet propped up on the replacement table, when the buzzer rang. “Finally,” I said, and set the drink I’d been enjoying down on the table. “Don’t go anywhere!” There was a little moan.

I stood up and buzzed my guest into the building. About a minute later, I saw him at the door through a fish-eye lens. “Personal pizza for Mark Brown?” he said, a bag slung over his shoulder.

I opened the door just enough to let myself through. “You have no idea how much I’ve been waiting for this,” I said, smiling. “Breakfast today wasn’t very filling.”

I paid and tipped the man, thanked him again, and slipped back in with the pizza. “They always arrive fast because I tip well,” I said, setting the pizza down on the table and opening the box. “It’s called being nice! You should try it some time.”

I pulled a slice of pizza from the pie, salivating at the way the cheese stretched before snapping. “Want some?” I asked, dangling it in front of my table.

Obviously, the table in question was Jen. She was on her hands and knees, with a towel under those knees both for her benefit and to catch any errant drips, and she stared motionless at the door—except that the ability to stare had been taken away. I’d dressed her in a blindfold and big red ballgag, items which Robin had bought months ago in one of her many attempts to have me dominate her. How ironic that now, when I was finally getting the hang of this whole dom thing, Robin wasn’t here to enjoy it.

Jen moaned into her ballgag. “No?” I said. “Oh well, more for me.” I sat back down on the couch and put my feet up by her shoulders, whereas my food and drink were down by her broad hips. She really was made to serve.

“You’re very welcome, by the way,” I said after chewing my food for a few seconds. “I could have opened the door just a little wider, and that man would have been able to see you in all your glory, with your perfect tits and juicy ass hanging out. He’d be able to tell all his friends what a submissive little slut you are, and you wouldn’t want that, would you?”

She let out a little double moan—maybe nuh-uh. Hard to say.

“But then again,” I said, setting my slice down, “I could be lying. Maybe I did open the door all the way and just told him not to say anything.” Her breathing was speeding up, and her legs were subtly rubbing against one another. “Maybe he’s in the room right now, listening to every moan. Maybe he’s taking video. Can you hear him breathing?”

Her head jerked up, and she turned it from side to side as if trying to see.

I laughed, walked over to her, and pulled the blindfold up to her forehead. There was no one else in the room. She glared at me.

“Aw, don’t be mad. I was just kidding.” I patted her cheek lightly, and after a few seconds of hesitation she closed her eyes and pressed her face against my hand like a cat. Then I reset her blindfold. “Now don’t move. I don’t want you spilling my meal.”

Jen made a little noise of assent. She’d done quite a good job at staying rock-steady, despite how I’d vibed her, and I hadn’t even locked her in place. Not past the first five minutes, anyway. She was becoming docile enough that I hardly needed the Erotech app at all, for her to do as she was told.

But what about using the app to make her do as she wasn’t told?

As I finished my first slice and started on my second, I pulled out my phone again with the other hand. The Jen on my screen was also on her hands and knees, though she was neither blinded nor gagged—of course the app wouldn’t know about that. I swiped my thumb, rotating my view of her so that I saw her left side, and selected her left arm.

Slowly, as if she hoped I wouldn’t see, Jen lifted her left hand from the ground. She let out a little whimper as it moved steadily under her body, and landed at her crotch. Her legs squeezed together, as if trying to bar the gate against the intruder, but too late.

I tried not to notice, still eating my meal, as Jen let out little noises. Tiny noises—exhalations through her nose, little whines muffled by the gag. Her hand kept working at her pussy, rubbing harder at her clit, diving in and out between her folds.

She tried, bless her. She tried so hard to keep her back steady. But her hand was insatiable, and she let out a muffled yelp, and her back shivered. My drink rocked in its glass, and a bit dripped down on her rear.

Only then did I officially notice. “Excuse me?” I said, taking my feet off her and standing up. “I thought I told you not to move, you needy little slut. You wanna explain yourself?”

She moaned in apology, but my thumb kept going so that she couldn’t stop masturbating. Her arousal was building. “I don’t think I caught that,” I said, kneeling down. I grabbed her ballgag and pulled it out of her mouth, so that it hung around her neck as a collar. “I said, care to explain yourself?”

She panted open mouthed for a few seconds, as drool fell to the floor from her lolling tongue. “Sorry, sir,” she finally managed, looking up at me with blinded eyes. “I can’t stop myself—I’m so fucking horny—”

The app had a nice little feature: I could make Jen continue the same motion, over and over again, without my active involvement. I turned that feature on and pocketed my phone before continuing: I wanted both hands for what came next. “And do you really think that’s fair, slut?”

“What—what do you mean, sir?”

“You’ve gotten off twice today, and here you are going for a third time.” I undid my bluejeans’ button, then zipped the zipper down. “But your sir hasn’t gotten the same pleasure. Why should you cum before I get a chance?”

Recognition dawned on her face, and she opened her mouth wide. “That’s right,” I said, pulling down my boxers. My member needed no further encouragement, and sprang free immediately. “Let any of my food fall, and you won’t cum for a week.”

“Okay,” she said. She stretched her neck forward like she could smell what was in front of her. “What are you waiting for, sir?” A little edge re-entered her voice. “Do you want me to fuckin’ beg or something?”

“Well, now that you ask….” I patted her head. “Yes.”

“Ugh….” She growled, but it was a sound of resignation. “Please, sir. Please fuck my throat.”

“There you go. See what we get by asking nicely?” I took two fistfuls of her hair and thrust forward.

Jen received me fully and eagerly. She bobbed her head back and forth, letting her tongue quest along my entire length and to my balls as well, and—oh my god, Robin had never done that. She’d never been able to get the whole thing in.

(In the back of my mind, I wondered why I was thinking of Robin at a time like this.)

It was all I could do not to let my knees buckle, as Jen serviced the both of us at once. I had to be as strong as she was—look, she wasn’t even letting the cup fall! She was doing so well, my little sub. “Good girl,” I said, pulling her closer, “good little slut.” She sucked harder at the encouragement, and I saw stars.

I couldn’t tell if it was an instant or an eternity before I came—I couldn’t judge time with what she was doing to me—but I was bucking my hips into her face before I knew it, releasing a load that had been building all day. I held her hair for support, panting with exertion, as she swallowed the whole thing. “Good girl,” I managed.

I pulled out. “Thank you, sir,” she panted, her lips flecked with more than spittle. Collecting myself a bit, I saw that she was still working at herself, and that none of this had upset what was perched on her back. A very good slut indeed.

“Please, sir,” she said, still automatically rubbing herself at an intensity which, I realized, would never get her anywhere. “Can I cum now? Since you said you had to cum first, and I’m so fucking close—”

I put a finger on her lips to silence her. With my other hand, I pull out my phone and ended automatic control. Her hand hesitated, but then I let my palm cup her face. “You’ve been such a good little slut. Cum for me.”

“Thank you, sir—oh, oh, oh god!—”

She wasted no time: her masturbation got exponentially more vigorous as soon as she was able. My phone buzzed to warn of the oncoming orgasm, and I did nothing to stop it—in fact, I drove up the vibration to maximum. When Jen climaxed, it was with the loudest cry she’d let out all day.

The orgasm sent waves of tremors through her body, shaking her again and again. I instinctively stuck out my hand to save my glass of water, but there was no need—they rocked on her body, but did not fall. And when the climax was done with her, the only fluids to spill out had landed on the towel her knees rested on.

“Very good girl,” I said. I took my glass and held it to her lips. “Have some water.” She drank quickly and gratefully—she’d lost a fair amount of fluids between one thing and another.

“Thank you,” she said between gulps, and I didn’t begrudge her forgetting the sir.

We stayed there for a bit longer, with me looking at her and her doing her best to look back. Now for the final phase. “Well,” I said, and yanked the blindfold off her head, “you did it!”

She blinked at the sudden light. “Wh-what? Sir?”

I walked to her and picked up the pizza box. “We’re done. You did everything I wanted to. Congratulations! Robin doesn’t need to know a thing about what happened today, and you—” I set the glass and box down on the counter “—can go back to being big mean Jen. Wanna watch some pro wrestling? Maybe eat my pizza?”

She stood, with confusion written all over her face. “Uh? Sir?”

I rolled my eyes, acting as casual as I could and redoing my pants. “No, we’re done with that stuff now. No more little slut, no more sir, you can just go back to being the giant asshole that you wanna be!”

Jen looked from side to side.

I walked around and picked up her discarded bra and panties. “Lemme just get you some clothes—oh right,” I said with a smile, letting them go again. “You don’t give a shit about being naked. Well,” I continued, walking over to her, “at least I can get that ballgag off you—”

I reached up to her neck, but—as if on instinct—she raised a hand to cover the ballgag-turned-collar. Her cheeks flared red.

I stared up at her, fighting back a smile. “Does that mean you really are enjoying this, Jen?”

She bit her tongue, but didn’t look away.

I pulled up my phone’s messenger app. Holding it so she could see, I deleted the message I’d typed earlier in the day. “If you wanna keep going,” I said, pocketing my phone, “that means you can’t even pretend you’re following my orders because of blackmail. You’re doing this because you, Jen, are my submissive little slut. Is that true?”

She took a deep breath, and then another, before speaking. “Yes,” she said, and her arms lowered so she was standing at attention. “I, Jen… am your submissive little slut, sir.”

A broad smile broke out on my face. I stepped forward and stood on tiptoe, and she leaned down to let me kiss her. I put my arms around her neck to hold myself steady, and felt the gag-collar on her skin. The smell on her face was the same sweat she’d reeked of before, but somehow it seemed now to be a heady aroma. It was wonderful.

When I broke from the kiss, it took me a few seconds to think of what to do next—I hadn’t planned on getting this far—but I had an idea before long. “Do you have warm clothes, Jen?” I said.

“Yes, sir.”

“Put them on. We’re going for a little walk.”

Part IV - The Jen Identity

With Mark and Jen on the same page at last, Mark takes her to a specialty store to have a little fun—but the store’s a lot more than he was expecting. The revelation raises a question he’d never thought to ask: just who is Jen, anyway?
The final entry in the Jen the Gynoid series

It took ten minutes to get dressed, take a bathroom break, and then check a map. Then we were out of the apartment and walking through the nearby park.

Plenty of snow had already accumulated along the paths, and the late day light painted it deep blue and vibrant orange. I was dressed in a coat, but Jen just had a sweater over a t-shirt, and wasn’t even in long pants. Apparently she and I had different definitions of ‘warm clothes’.

I wasn’t planning on criticizing her choice of outerwear: Jen was a big girl, and she could decide what she needed to wear. (And if she wanted to show off her thighs to me, I wouldn’t complain.) But after a few minutes, I noticed her looking around, pulling up the collar of her sweater, and shivering.

I frowned at her. “Do you need something warmer?”

She looked down derisively. “What? No.”

“No what?” I let my voice lilt a little.

She gulped. “C’mon,” she hissed, looking around. “We’re in public.” I looked where she was looking, and saw that though the park was quiet, it wasn’t empty. There were other people walking—couples, families, a few singletons.

Jen shivered and tugged her collar up again, seemingly just to make sure it hadn’t slipped down, and I made the connection—this was about her collar.

“Don’t want anyone to see, slut?” I whispered.

She shivered again. I loved being able to make her do that, without even a tap on my phone. “Sir,” she replied, her gravelly voice as low as possible, “not here, please….”

I looked around, then took her arm. “Then let’s get somewhere more private.”

“Yes, sir.”

I led her off the shoveled path, and our boots crunched new prints into the untouched deep snow. We walked into a sort of copse of bushes, ones which had lost all their leaves to winter and didn’t have a dusting of snow. Within a minute, we were surrounded by brown sticks; no one else was visible, or even audible.

“Now, that’s nice and private,” I said. “So what was it you didn’t want anyone to see, slut?”

She glanced around, then—blushing so hard you’d expect the snow around her to melt—tugged the collar of her sweatshirt down. There, still around her neck, was the ballgag I’d turned into a collar. She still kept looking around, as if someone might follow our footsteps in at any moment.

“Good girl,” I said, and sidled closer. “And how does it feel to wear it?”

“It feels….” Jen didn’t seem like the kind of person who’d spent a lot of time talking about her feelings, so I wasn’t surprised when she hesitated for several seconds. “Kinda fuckin’ great? Like… someone else is in charge, so I don’t have to worry.”

“That’s right.” I reached up and slipped a finger through the collar, tugging her a little closer. “Someone else is in charge. Now, show me your panties.”

She looked down in surprise, but then said, “Yes, sir,” and slid her thumbs down her hips to tug her shorts down. For good measure, she lifted her sweatshirt and shirt, too, to expose her whole lower torso.

“Good girl.” I laid a hand on her lower abdomen, fingers just above the newly exposed fabric, and she squirmed a little at the contact but otherwise stayed still. The panties in question weren’t the same ones she’d worn in the morning, but they were just as plain and only a slightly different shade of brown.

“Do you own any nice underwear, Jen?” I said. I let my hand slip a little lower, my fingers just barely getting under her panties.

“Never looked for any, s-sir,” she said. “I guess I thought about it, but—didn’t feel comfortable. Looking in a girly store.”

“I don’t see why not,” I teased, letting my fingers slide down. “A good girl like you?”

Her hands, still holding up her shirt, balled into fists as she tried not to shiver. “Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” For a few seconds longer, I let my fingers tease at her skin, but then I pulled away. As titillating as it was that anyone could walk over and see this… well, anyone could walk over and see this. “Pull yourself together and come with me. I’ve got something to show you.”

She hastily tugged her pants and sweater over both panties and collar. “Yes, sir?”

Undoubtedly, it was nice to walk through the park with my… girlfriend? Was that what Jen was right now? However, the real reason we were going through the park was because it was the fastest way to get to a certain specialty store, one we reached after only ten minutes of walking.

The name was Adoration, and the logo was one of those excessively elegant affairs that, apparently, you got with stores that sold specialty garments for ladies. I’d seen Robin come back with that logo on her shopping bags a couple of times, and then surprise me with some new lingerie those nights, but I only knew the way here from looking it up online. (For a moment my mind dwelled on Robin, wondering how she was doing under there, but then brushed the thought aside and Jen was back.)

Jen stared at it from the other side of the street, where the park ended, and then at me. “You want us to go in there?” she said.

“Oh, no.” I smirked. “I want you to go in there. Surely a strong, independent woman like you doesn’t need a man to help her shop?”

She frowned at that. “Fucking hilarious,” she said.

“Don’t worry.” I patted her rear in an encouraging way—it was easier and more fun than trying to pat her back. “I’ll be right outside if you have any problems. Go get something nice, and surprise me!”

After a few seconds, she nodded, and started stomping toward the street.

“Oh, and Jen?” I said, raising my voice a little.

She turned around.

“If you, I dunno… hear a little voice in your head, urging you to go a little more feminine than you otherwise might?” I shrugged. “Just go with it, and see what happens.”

“Uh….” She squinted. “Okay.”

Then she was off, striding across the street without bothering to use a crosswalk. Of course, if a car were to hit Jen, I was pretty sure the car would be much worse off than she would be. For my part, I hurried to a nearby bench, brushed the snow off, then sat down—and pulled out my phone.

This would be fun.

There was a battery warning on the screen, but I swiped it away: my phone was still a quarter charged, which would be enough for the next little while. With that out of the way, I opened the Erotech app back up and turned on the first person video again. Once more I could see what Jen saw, and currently what she saw was the automatic door of Adoration, sliding out of her way.

One of the staff members, a woman shorter than me who was dressed formally like a butler—this was a high class establishment, it seemed—walked over to Jen. “Welcome to Adoration, ma’am. Is this your first time here?”

The response was immediate and coarse. “Fucking duh—as if I’ve ever been in a pussy store like this.”

I grimaced. Old habits died hard, apparently. Luckily, Jen would have her little shoulder angel to help her.

With a careful touch, I zoomed in and selected the ear of the onscreen Jen model, and tapped one of the options. Then I said, into my phone: “I’m being a very bad girl. Mark would probably expect me to be nicer.”

Jen winced, and then said in a softer (if stiffer) tone, “Sorry, that came out wrong. Yes, this is my first time here.”

To her credit, the worker’s face hadn’t betrayed any emotion at the verbal abuse. “Very good, ma’am. My name is Prudence, and I can assist you today, if you know what you’re looking for?” There was a pause, which Jen did nothing to fill, and Prudence added, “Or even if you’re not sure?”

“Lingerie,” I whispered. “And some nice dresses in my size.”

“Maybe, uh….” Jen had to lean in to say it. “Sexy lingerie? And, like, a dress? Maybe a couple? I don’t fucking know, I’ve never done this before.”

Prudence nodded. “Please follow me, ma’am.” And Jen followed.

I leaned back on the bench, eyes glued to the screen, rather enjoying this new way of controlling Jen. According to the manual, the feature I’d chosen would let Jen hear the words I spoke into the phone, but that wasn’t the fun part. The fun part was that this particular feature put my voice through the same voice changer that was in the suit itself. According to the manual, the effect could be more-or-less subliminal, like the voice in someone’s head.

Prudence led Jen through an otherwise unpopulated store to an aisle with dresses. Predictably, the first ones she saw—that was to say, the first ones we saw—were sized a bit too small. “Ugh, great,” Jen said. “This is why I never come into these places—”

“If you’ll continue to follow me, ma’am?”

Jen grumbled but kept going, and as she walked, the dresses she walked by got larger and larger. Before long, her steps slowed to a stop. “Shit,” she said, where someone else might have said ‘whoa’. On either side of her was a line of dresses, sized for someone seven feet tall.

Prudence nodded. “As you can see, ma’am, we have a variety of options for someone of your proportions. Does anything strike your fancy?”

“Uh….”

Judging by the way she looked around, Jen was no great expert on women’s fashion. Neither was I, so I couldn’t provide any hints. Thank goodness for Prudence. “I see. If I may be so bold to make a few suggestions, ma’am?”

“Sure, why not.”

Prudence selected a few simple sundresses, passed them to Jen, and Jen put them over her shoulder. “Very good. And if these aren’t quite your style, we’ll at least have a better idea of what you’re looking for. Now, to the lingerie section, ma’am?”

Once again, the lingerie section had a diverse selection in the seven-foot-tall range. “Damn,” Jen said, feeling one between her fingers. “You get a lot of people my size in here?”

Prudence smiled. “You’d be surprised, ma’am. Do you have any ideas now?”

Again, Jen was at a loss. I, on the other hand, had some ideas here. “What about that one,” I whispered with a smile, “with the crotch cut out and the flowers on the corset? And that one that looks like a maid costume.”

Jen took the two I’d suggested in her hand. “These look fine, I guess.”

“Very good, ma’am. The changing rooms are that way.”

The changing rooms were as deserted as the rest of the store—I supposed that with the snow, the holiday, and the time, people weren’t interested in shopping right now. Jen walked into a stall and closed the door—carefully so it didn’t break. “Good girl,” I whispered, and her arousal meter rose a bit, just for a second.

Then she hung up the merchandise and got to undressing. Sweater, shorts, shoes, and undergarments alike were tossed across the room, leaving Jen standing in nothing but her collar. “Fuck me, I look good,” she said, smirking as the stall’s full-length mirror showed her off in all her glory. And I agreed: she did look good—but perhaps not as good as she was about to.

“I think I’ll try the one with the corset first,” I whispered, and Jen obeyed—without realizing she was obeying at all. She pulled on the lingerie set, struggling a little with the fasteners (I may have contributed to the struggle a little, with a few errant vibrations here and there), but in a few minutes it was on.

And she looked fucking gorgeous. The corset helped streamline her already beautiful curves into something close to flawless, and emphasized her breasts more than they already were emphasized, if that was possible. And I loved how the crotchless panties framed the slit between her legs.

“I should keep going,” I said, because Jen’s arousal level was rising and there was serious danger of getting distracted here. So Jen took a floral dress off the hanger and pulled it on, which happened a lot more easily than the lingerie had.

And there Jen was. Sundressed, collared, barefoot, and blushing. “Wow,” she said, where she would have said shit before. “I look….”

“I look really pretty,” I suggested.

“I look really pretty,” she repeated.

Her arousal level was spiking. She did a little twirl on tiptoe, letting the fabric rise around her thighs, and smiled. Not just smiled, but laughed.

God, I loved my little sub so much. And in fact, if I let myself broach the subject for just a moment—I hoped Robin was having enough fun under there. I’d had so much fun today expressing this new side of myself, after that short adjustment period in the morning, and I could only hope she felt the same way.

Okay, that was enough broaching. I shifted mental gears back to Jen, and leaned in toward the microphone. “I’m so glad Mark convinced me to come here.”

“I’m so glad Mark convinced me to come here,” Jen said. She absentmindedly tugged at the collar.

I pressed on, smiling. “I love Mark so much.”

“I love Mark so much.”

I couldn’t help myself. “I belong to Mark.”

She took a shuddering breath. “I belong to Mark.”

Caught up in ecstasy, she fell to her knees, took her breasts in her hands, and started fondling. “Oh, fuck,” she whispered, as her kneading pushed the sundress down to expose the lingerie. “I’m so hot, sir, I’m so fucking hot….”

I had a sudden idea. “I don’t want anyone to hear me,” I whispered. Jen hooked two fingers under the ballgag and pulled it up into her mouth. Wordless now, saliva dribbing around the ball, she stuck a finger under her sundress. The rapid motion of her hand left no doubt as to what she was doing.

I watched, grinning up a storm, dominating from long distance—

Alert: critically low battery.

And then I frowned. Why was it showing me this stupid alert again? I hadn’t used that much battery on my phone—

Wait. That wasn’t a phone alert. That alert came from the Erotech app. But hang on, that didn’t make sense, because Jen had been charging all night—

Jen hadn’t been charging all night. Jen had been up early doing reps.

Oh, shit.

“I should really get going,” I hissed into the microphone, noticing for the first time the battery indicator on the app—it was weirdly faded and hard to see, but now that I was looking for it I could see it was nearly empty. “I should stop having fun, get dressed again, and get going as soon as possible.”

Jen’s masturbation slowed down, and she looked confused.

“I should get out of here right fucking now.”

Now she looked worried. She pulled out the gag, took off the sundress and lingerie with no ceremony, and pulled back on her normal clothes. She was clearly going quickly, but every second it took was agony for me. “Come on,” I whispered, more for my benefit than for hers.

“Hello again, ma’am,” said Prudence, as Jen hurried out of the changing room with the merchandise. “Was everything to your—”

“It was great,” Jen said. “Gonna buy now.”

“Certainly.”

Jen took long strides to the registers, and Prudence had to jog to keep up. They arrived at the register, Jen threw the clothes down, and Prudence took her sweet time scanning each item. “Hurry up,” I hissed.

“Hurry up,” Jen said, crossing her arms. “I’ve got places to be!”

“Of course, ma’am.” Prudence increased her speed, finished scanning the items, and announced the total. “Would you like to pay with cash or—”

“Card,” Jen said. “It’s in my pocket, hold on—”

Her field of view didn’t change at first, so I wasn’t sure what was happening. However, the mannequin Jen on the left of the screen was repeatedly reaching down by her leg, over and over again. “Hang on,” Jen muttered, sounding worried as she looked down. I could see her trying to reach into her pocket a few times, but failing to pull something out each time. Like she was suddenly drunk, or light headed.

“Is everything all right, ma’am?” Prudence asked.

“Fucking terrific. I’m just….” Jen clutched her head. “I think I… I….”

She blinked a few times. Then her eyes closed, cutting off the first person view. “No,” I said.

And then everything went blank. Signal lost, said the app.

“No!” I yelled, and jumped to my feet.

I ran to the road, but Jen had been a lot luckier than I was: there was plenty of traffic in my way, and the roads were slick enough that I could hardly trust any of the cars to stop on a dime. I delayed at a crosswalk for twenty seconds, waiting for a break in the traffic, but—fuck it. I took the best moment I could and ran, and didn’t look back as cars honked around me.

I’d really fucked up. Jen had told me that me being in charge meant she didn’t have to worry, and now I’d let this happen to her. And—and—

And what about Robin? What would happen if Robin was found out in public, in some kind of fucksuit?

Somehow I avoided vehicular death, and made it to the sidewalk on the other side—past the sidewalk to the sliding door—through the sliding door. “Jen!” I yelled, not seeing her immediately. There were the registers, where she’d lost power, and she wasn’t there. “Jen?”

“Excuse me, sir?”

A woman walked up to me—the same woman who’d helped Jen, in fact. “Prudence?” I said. “Where’s Jen?”

She frowned, and it occurred to me that I shouldn’t have known her name—but no time to think about that now. “I didn’t get her name, sir,” she said, “but are you referring to the tall individual who came in here about twenty minutes ago—”

“Yes, yes, exactly, is she all right?”

“Follow me, sir.”

I followed her, barely able to restrain myself from running ahead.

“Your, ah, ‘friend’,” Prudence said, and I could hear the sarcasm quotes even through her polite tone, “had a nasty spell. But I think she’ll be all right. She’s right here in the back, sir.”

And there she was. We turned a corner, and I saw Jen, slumped on a seat by the bathrooms like she’d been put there by someone else. Her eyes were closed, and she gave no sign of consciousness. “Jen!” I said, sighing with relief. “I’m so sorry.”

“I wouldn’t bother, sir,” Prudence said. “It’s not as if anyone can hear you right now.”

“Right, right.” I turned back to her. “Thank you so much for helping her. It must not have been easy to move her.”

“I have some experience, but the hand mover was helpful,” Prudence said, and now—with my tunnel vision slightly abated—I was able to see the pushcart next to Jen. “And of course,” she continued, “it was lucky we had a seat near an outlet.”

“An outlet?”

She nodded, and gestured down.

I looked down, and… it took me a few seconds to understand what was going on. There was a cord plugged into the wall, and the other end of that cord slipped into the leghole of Jen’s shorts, and when I lifted that leghole a bit, I saw… a charger. The same kind of smooth, circular diaphragm that we used to charge Jen at home.

And then it hit me. Then my heart sank. “Oh,” I said, looking back at Prudence. “You know.”

“Of course I know, sir,” she said, looking a little surprised. “You do know what this store is, don’t you?”

I stared blankly.

She stared back. Then sighed. “I think a few explanations are in order, sir,” she said. “However, before that… this charger is perfectly functional for overnight use, but since it has no direct connection to the chassis beneath, it does not charge very quickly. It would take at least an hour for this unit to be charged up enough to leave the store. Might I ask your consent, sir, to hook up a more direct charging method?”

“What? Um. Sure?”

“Very good, sir.” Prudence stood over Jen, grabbed her hips, and levered her up with the practiced motion of someone who’d done this before. “Although, sir,” she added, lowering Jen unceremoniously to the cart, “it’s quite all right if you reconsider once you see the charger itself.”

Jen stood in a neutral position on a mannequin stand, her eyes still closed, with the stand’s pole penetrating her right between the legs. Her shorts and panties had been pulled aside to make room.

It made logical sense, as Prudence had explained it to me. The outer suit was vaginal entry, which meant that the vulva was the hole with the best connection to the chassis underneath. The Erotech app confirmed it: it had re-established a connection with Jen and showed that she’d be fully charged within minutes. And, knowing Robin, I couldn’t imagine her being too disappointed with this latest twist to the day’s proceedings—sensory deprivation to the max, unable to hear or see or speak or touch, plus a surprise from down below.

Even so, though, this was… a lot. I had a lot of questions as I looked around the room, and even though most of them were obvious, I couldn’t help but ask them. “So,” I said, turning to Prudence, “your store sells… Jens?”

“If you’d like to call it that, yes, sir. We offer a wide range of Erotech products, including personal exoskeletons, but certainly not limited to the same.” Prudence gestured toward the products next to Jen: more exoskeletons, which looked just like she did without the skin. They were charging on their own poles, each one on its own plinth, in identical poses to Jen. There were several of them, in two lines along the walls of this corridor of a room.

“And….” I looked around at some of the plinths further down the room. They had curtains around them, as if someone was getting undressed there. “You don’t exactly advertise it?”

“Well, sir, those who know what they’re looking for tend to find us fairly easily.” Prudence smiled. “As for those who don’t, well… these products can seem a little, shall we say, racy? We wouldn’t want any of our valued customers to feel uncomfortable.”

Which was why we’d entered this room through a locked door in the back of the store, hidden behind a curtain that looked like it was just there for aesthetics.

“Huh.” I shrugged. “I never did ask Robin where she got the suit… I guess that makes sense.”

Prudence frowned. “I don’t mean to intrude, sir, but… Robin? As in, Robin Reed?” I nodded, and she continued. “You’re absolutely correct, sir. Robin Reed was in here purchasing a personal exoskeleton about two weeks ago.”

“Yeah, of course!” I lowered my voice. “She’s, uh… you’ve probably figured this out, but that’s Robin in there right now. She’s been doing her best to stay in character, so if you could, uh… pretend not to know Jen’s an exoskeleton or something, I think she would really appreciate it.”

Prudence frowned again, but deeper this time. “I’m sorry to disagree, sir, but are you sure she’s in there?”

I raised my eyebrows. “Well, um, of course I’m sure. Who else would it be?”

“Well, that’s the thing, sir. Robin Reed specifically requested an exoskeleton with an autonomous mode.”

I blinked.

“It’s quite a new feature, and I think we only had the one suit with it available,” Prudence continued. “The autonomous mode is able to control the suit’s body parts, respond appropriately to stimulus—both from its senses, and the controller—and it is even able to simulate a personality.”

“A personality?”

“Yes. Nothing too complex, as I understand it. The AI is able to project a simple but strong personality, one which develops and modifies in response to stimulus. Fairly simple machine learning, as I understand it, sir.”

“Hang on,” I said. I felt like I was losing my balance, like the room was on a ship that was being tossed by waves. “Simple but strong personality? Like… big jerk jock?”

“I think that’s one of the options, sir. From there, the personality is trained and altered by its experiences, particularly those received through the controller. How long have you been training your unit, sir?” She leaned forward, seeming genuinely interested.

“Um… this morning, I guess?”

Her eyebrows rose. “Then might I just say, well done, sir. It seems very well trained. I would have expected you to tell me you’d been disciplining it for at least several days.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I took a step back, or should I say staggered. “This is crazy. That’s not an AI, that’s my girlfriend Robin in there.”

“Are you certain, sir?” She stared at me. “That is to say, did you see her enter the unit?”

“Well, she said she was leaving last night, but when I woke up Jen was active and so, obviously… obviously….”

Prudence sighed. “And since you did not know about the unit’s autonomous mode, you obviously assumed Robin was controlling ‘Jen’. I understand, sir.”

I staggered all the way back to the wall. This didn’t make sense. I’d read the whole manual, it hadn’t mentioned any autonomous mode—

(Could I put it past Robin to have gotten a manual for a different exoskeleton? One which didn’t have this feature?)

And—and what about gym clothes and weights? Where had Jen gotten those?

(Robin had to buy them either way. That only proved she’d snuck back into the apartment overnight. It didn’t prove she was in Jen.)

“She ate some eggs?” I offered, weakly. “And drank some water?”

“That is indeed possible with an autonomous unit, sir.” Prudence’s expression was severe. “The water will be used to replenish the suit’s internal supply as usual. As for the food, it will obviously not be digested, but it will be stored.”

Oh my god.

“I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you all this, sir,” she said, and to her credit Prudence did look appropriately solemn. “If it makes you feel better, none of this is to say that your lady friend isn’t in there. But I felt you should know, seeing as you seem to be taking responsibility for this unit, sir, regardless of who may or may not be inside.”

I took a few deep breaths. Then a few more. Then, as I was about to take a few more after that, my phone buzzed. When I pulled it out, I saw that Jen was fully charged. I looked up at her—it?—expectantly, but no motion.

“The unit will not move,” Prudence said, “unless you activate it from your control app, or else speak the override phrase. You may remember the phrase in question from your manual?”

“Yeah, I do….” I clenched my fists for a moment. Dammit, Robin. “I’m going to ignore all that stuff you told me,” I said, trying to keep my voice level. “I’m going to keep doing what I was doing—treating Jen like she’s a person. Someone I care a lot about.”

“A perfectly respectable option, sir,” Prudence said. Her tone was neutral, but it was impossible for me not to feel like it was condescending, even if she didn’t mean it that way. “I won’t get in your way at all.”

“Right.” I swallowed. “Can you get me a glass of water?”

“Erotech override: Resume suit operations,” I said.

Jen, now slumped over in a seat Prudence had provided, took a few seconds to stir. When she did, she opened her eyes blearily and reached out with a hand, like she was trying to grab a fly. “Mrrfgfh,” she said, sagging over.

“Whoa! Easy.” I rushed to her side and tried to keep her upright, which took some effort.

“Fucking head,” she muttered, blinking hard. “What the fuck was that?”

“I’m afraid it looks like you, shall we say, ‘powered down’, ma’am,” said Prudence, standing close in front of her. “I brought you to a back room to recharge.”

“Fainted… what kind of pussy shit….”

Jen tried to stand up, but I pushed her back and said, “Sit down. Drink this.” I held out the big cup of water I’d gotten—it looked like it held about half a gallon. Jen looked at it for a few seconds, then let me hold it to her lips and pour. She drank like a racehorse, emptying the cup within a minute.

(Had anyone actually drank that, or was that just going into a reservoir—)

“That helps.” Jen wiped her lips with a shaky hand, and looked at me. “You’re here.”

“I, uh… I was watching the doors.” It was barely a lie, which made it easy to come up with on the fly. “I came as soon as I saw you fall.”

She looked at me, and I wondered if I could see a blush on her cheeks. “Thank you, sir.”

“Any time.” I put my hand on her shoulder, and wondered how much I meant it. “Let’s help you get up.”

She nodded, planted her hands on the sides of the chair, and stood. I remained at her side, hoping she wouldn’t fall over and flatten me, and Prudence moved to her other side. But Jen, despite a shaky start, managed to get standing. “Shit,” she said, rubbing her head as she swayed a bit. “Guess I gotta, uh, drink more water after weights, huh?”

Then she took her hand off her eyes and got her first look at the room. “Uh.” She looked at Prudence, who had backed away a respectful distance, then at me. “The fuck are those?”

Prudence was quicker than I was. “This is a back room where we thought you might have more privacy, ma’am. And those….” She gestured at the three occupied stands, and one unoccupied stand. “Those are other exoskeleton units like yourself, ma’am, ready to be purchased and used for their owners’ pleasure in much the same way as your owner is using you. While you’re here, ma’am, would your owner like to see our full catalog?”

I blinked. “Just a quick sec, Jen,” I said, and walked over to Prudence. “Ex-freaking-scuse me,” I hissed under my breath as I leaned down toward her. “How is this ’not getting in my way at all’?”

“Well, sir,” Prudence said at a similar volume, a little smirk on her face. “Perhaps my experience is limited, but I’ve never met an Erotech exoskeleton user who objected to being treated as a dumb, obedient robot.”

I stared. She smiled, and walked away. “If you’ll follow me, ma’am,” she said, “I can show your owner some of your customization options.”

I didn’t move until Jen walked up by me and leaned down to whisper in my ear. “Hey, sir,” she said, “did you tell her to call me a robot?”

“Um….” This was a harder lie to manage, even if it was much shorter. “Yes?”

“Huh.” She blushed. “That’s kinda fuckin’ hot, sir.”

Well then.

Prudence’s little smile did not waver, but might have become more… to use a technical term, shit-eating. “Sir and ma’am,” she said, pressing a button near the closest curtained plinth. “Allow me to present to you the entire Erotech catalog.”

The curtained plinths—a dozen or so on each side of the room—opened up as one, and display lights flicked on. My jaw dropped, and so did Jen’s.

“As you can see, sir and ma’am,” Prudence said, gesturing at dozens of Jen-sized figures, but in all variety of skins and outfits, “we have a diverse collection for you to peruse. If you’d be interested in taking a look?”

I looked up at Jen. She shrugged. “I’d like to, sir. Personally I think it looks cool.”

It was a little bizarre, feeling helpless in the presence of two people who referred to me exclusively as “sir”. I walked forward, dazed.

“Obviously, sir and ma’am, the exoskeletons you see to your left and right are our basic models.” Prudence indicated the unadorned robots with a glance. “I don’t imagine I need to explain their features to you?”

“Damn,” Jen said with a laugh,” you people have some pretty expensive looking mannequins.” She paused. “Oh, excuse me. ‘Robots’.” She used both index fingers for the air quotes.

For my part, I just shook my head in answer.

“And here are some of our basic bodysuits,” Prudence went on, gesturing at the next couple stands. “For simple everyday use, like the way you’re being used now, ma’am.”

There were indeed several bodysuits present, and I hadn’t been expecting how creepy it would be—they all looked like seven foot tall people, with chargers jammed between their legs, eyes closed and motionless as if in suspended animation. They had a variety of hair colors, skin colors, and—I blinked—genders.

“Shit, this guy’s dick is huge!” Jen said, grabbing it and moving it around. The guy’s charging port, for what it was worth, entered through the rear.

“Indeed so, ma’am,” Prudence said. “Incidentally, for the sake of pleasure and convenience, any of our bodysuits can be worn over one other skin without any visible irregularities on the outside. If your owner was curious about giving you a huge dick, ma’am.”

“Huh.” Jen squinted. “So I could wear this guy, huh?” She frowned. “I dunno, wearing some kinda gender changing suit? Seems fuckin’ weird.”

Okay, so maybe it was Robin. An AI wouldn’t know to fuck with me like that.

And then—“Holy shit,” Jen said, another one of the skins catching her eye. “That looks a fucking shit-ton like me, what the fuck.”

I did a double take—it didn’t just look like her, it was her. Another Jen-style bodysuit, standing motionless, looking exactly like Jen had five minutes ago when she was inert on her charger. The only difference was the lack of clothes.

Jen felt it, squeezing the bosom and caressing down by the charger. “Why does it look so much like me?” she demanded, looking at Prudence.

“Why, because it is you, ma’am.” Prudence smiled.

Jen hesitated. “What?”

“It’s always been you, ma’am. You are one of our products, and that is your stand.” Prudence nodded toward the single empty charger. “We were very frightened when you ran off, but now you’re back with us, and we’re all so pleased! And now you’ll get to stay forever….”

A few seconds passed. Then Prudence smiled and said, “Just my little joke, ma’am. All Erotech bodysuits are invented wholesale, as it were, and any resemblance between a bodysuit and any persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. Shall we continue?”

Jen remained frozen where she stood, blushing. On a whim, I checked my phone, and saw that her arousal level was rising.

“Moving on, sir and ma’am,” she said, “we have an item which is not a bodysuit per se, but which does cover the entire body.” The item was a gimp suit—or rather, a pair of gimp suits on either side, both shiny and black and covered in cufflinks. There were no eyeholes, and when I examined the mouth, it turned out to be an anatomical gag. “Some of our more creative customers,” Prudence said, “have found it diverting to layer this suit under a bodysuit. The effect is a character who is apparently unencumbered, but in fact finds themselves blinded and dumbstruck.”

“Fuck yeah,” Jen whispered. Now her arousal was spiking.

“And now, for a few of our, shall we say, novelty bodysuits?”

I looked these over, and raised an eyebrow as I noticed two things: firstly, the ’novelties’ seemed to comprise the majority of the suits. And secondly, unlike Jen, none of these could ever be worn out and about—not without arousing suspicion, and arousing horny passersby too.

An orc straight out of fantasy—or out of a wet dream, considering the massive tits. A cow girl, and not the kind that rode horses. An anthropomorphic tiger and wolf, each with a collar that had room for a name to be written on it: the tiger female and the wolf male. And then….

“Aren’t those from some anime or something?” I said, pointing at a few.

“I said that Erotech bodysuits are not based on anyone living or dead, sir,” Prudence said, nodding. “However, they have acquired the rights to a few fictional characters.”

“And that one….” I paused, looking at the woman with the black gown, spiky turtle shell, tail, and horns. “Isn’t that the one from that meme, where it’s got the bad guy from Mario and he puts on the crown—”

“That one was a little trickier, sir,” Prudence said, this time with a grin. “But I can confidently say that no one’s sued us yet.”

“Okay. And that one… does the face move? It looks like it doesn’t.”

“No, sir. Some people are into that.”

“All right.” And finally, at the end…. “Oh, come on.”

It was a robot. Not the same as the unadorned robot exoskeletons at the other end of the hall, either: those were smooth and streamlined, but this was spiky, bulky, and exaggerated.

“Damn, that’s cool,” Jen said, walking over to it and admiring it for a few seconds. Then she glanced at me. “How about it, sir? I could pretend to be an android!”

I blinked a few times. My teeth were clenching.

“And of course,” Prudence said, pressing another button, “we have a diverse selection of restraints and toys designed to interface with larger devices, such as your companion.” Between the plinths, more displays opened up from the wall. I saw ballgags, handcuffs, spreader bars, every sort of dildo I could imagine—and all looked massive and heavy duty.

Jen stared at them. She walked over to one of the pairs of handcuffs, as if in a trance, then took it in both hands and tried to rip it apart with a grunt of effort. Nothing happened.

“Holy shit. They always break.” Then, she put one of the cuffs around her wrist and closed it. Before I could do more than widen my eyes in surprise, she’d gotten her arms behind her back and cuffed the other wrist. “God, fucking finally,” she whispered, her arms shaking as if she was trying to free herself.

“Dammit, Jen,” I hissed, “we’re in public—”

Prudence cut in. “The store Adoration has never had any problem with customers trying on the merchandise,” she said. “Particularly such a valued customer as yourself, sir, and your device. Our janitorial staff will sort out any cleanup.”

“Please, sir,” Jen whispered. “No offense, but—” she motioned downward with her chin, and I realized she was indicating the ballgag around her neck “—I could probably bite through this. But some of these, these could finally give your device a good fucking.” She arched her back, presenting breasts to me that strained under her sweater.

I grabbed a large ballgag from a shelf. “Try this on, slut,” I said, and shoved it into her mouth as she opened it, then strapped it around her head over her hair. She moaned with pleasure into the gag, mouth straining as she tried and failed to bite down into it. Her pleasure only increased when I grabbed some ankle cuffs and got those around her, locking her legs together.

It wasn’t for her pleasure, though. It was to shut her the fuck up. It was increasingly difficult to keep up the idea that Jen was really Robin, not when she kept—kept taunting me, that was the word for it. Taunting me about not being the person I thought she was. Why was Robin doing this, if it was her? And if it wasn’t….

“I commend you on your restraint, sir,” Prudence said. When I looked at her, she was offering me a dildo of prodigious length. “Might I recommend this to start out? We have a variety of larger options if you would prefer.”

I didn’t hesitate before grabbing the dildo. “You’ve been a very bad girl, slut,” I said, slapping it against my open palm, and I could feel the steel in my voice. Jen squirmed at the words. “Do you know what happens to bad girls?” I said, walking forward and yanking down her shorts.

No matter who Jen was, the answer was the same: what happened was punishment.

We ended up getting a whole collection of sex toys, some more costumes, and a few of the novelty suits. Not the robot suit, though, because I was pretty sure that would have made my head explode.

My servile slut carried all of them, of course. The suits were in a massive bag the size of Santa’s sack of presents, slung over her shoulder: it didn’t seem to be difficult for her to carry in the slightest. Most of the clothes and the toys were in there too, but… not quite all.

Jen let out a little moan from behind me, and when I looked back I saw her shiver. “Aw,” I said, “cold, are we?” I stopped to let her caught up to me, and slapped her ass once she had. “You should have dressed warmer, slut.”

She didn’t have a choice. I’d stripped her naked in the store, tossed the clothes she’d brought in the bag, and made her put on the red sundress over the crotchless lingerie. Now her arms were bare, and her upper chest was exposed by a low neckline. “You’d better walk faster,” I said, “if you don’t want to get cold.”

Of course, the cold wasn’t really why she was shuddering. As she made a noise of assent and tried to walk forward, she was stopped by another shiver—of pain or pleasure, it was hard to tell. The reason why she was shivering wasn’t a mystery, though: some of the toys from the store weren’t being carried inside the bag, but inside Jen herself. It showed, if you were looking for it: every few steps she stumbled.

Still walking beside her, I slipped my hand back under her sundress, first squeezing her ass, and then feeling at the gap in her panties. It wasn’t hard to find the shaft of the nub-covered dildo I’d tucked away inside her pussy, nor the pull tab of the beads in her ass. I tugged idly at the latter, and Jen clenched up, not letting the balls be pulled out. “That’s right,” I say, tapping lightly at the dildo. “You’d be very naughty to let either of these fall out, understand?”

Jen made a noise of assent.

“What was that?” I cupped a hand around my ear. “Didn’t catch what you said, slut.”

Another noise or two.

“That’ll do for now.” I walked faster. “Better keep up!”

The reason Jen couldn’t just say ‘yes, sir’ was the final toy she was carrying outside the bag. Unfortunately for her, this one couldn’t be hidden under a sundress. From the outside, it looked like a ballgag—which was spicy enough, walking through public like this—but it had a hidden secret: another dildo on the inside, extending through her mouth toward her throat. And this one was locked on.

(She still wore the other gag around her neck. I thought it was stylish.)

The straps for the dildo gag were hidden under Jen’s prodigious hair, but if anyone really looked at her, they could hardly miss the big black ball between her lips. She had to hope that the post-sunset darkness, in the mostly empty park, would keep her from being found out.

But ‘mostly empty’ did not mean entirely empty. As we continued along the path, a couple came into view in the darkness: two men, laughing together. Jen’s eyes widened, and she raised a hand to cover her mouth as if she was yawning. They stared up at her nevertheless—it wasn’t every day that you saw a seven foot woman—and I saw her turn away, blushing furiously.

I wondered if Jen was having fun, but not enough to ask her. And not enough to seriously care. I was having fun, anyway. Robin would probably be happy to be dominated. And if Robin wasn’t there, well… the question of whether anyone besides me was having fun was moot.

The couple walked past, and I heard some surprised comments from them as they disappeared into the night. “Aww, didn’t want them to see?” I pinched her rear, and she made a little whine. “Maybe I’ll have you lift up the dress for the next couple. Really give them a show.”

She looked pleadingly at me, like she really didn’t want me to do it. I snorted. “Keep moving.”

Sadly, there was no next couple: we made it back to my apartment building without meeting anyone. Though I heard the sounds of New Year’s Eve celebrations as we took the elevator up to my floor, no one saw us on the way back to the apartment itself. It was probably just as well: Jen was stumbling more, one hand on the wall for support, and I could hear her breathing becoming more distressed.

At last I unlocked the door and let her in. She made it a few steps inside before collapsing to her knees, letting the bag fall to the floor. She reached up and grabbed at the gag’s straps, pulling at them, but they were heavy duty and weren’t going anywhere.

“Oh, does my little slut want something?” I walked over in front of her. “Use your words, slut.”

She tried. The muffled noises I heard from her definitely sounded like, “Please let me go, sir.”

I tapped my chin. “Ohhhhhh. So you want this?” I pulled out the gag’s key from my pocket. Her eyes widened and she made frantic sounds. “Well,” I said, pocketing it again, “let’s see if you’ve done what I told you to do. Stand up, slut, and present.”

She let out another pitiful whine of protest.

“I said present yourself, slut.”

Jen’s head hung. She let go of the gag, stood shakily, and raised her sundress.

“Ah, that’s what I’m looking for.” I reached out and took the base of the dildo first, and pulled it out slowly, letting every nub have its turn against her walls. Once the whole thing was out, it was plain to see that the dildo was larger than anything Robin could have taken.

“And this,” I added, tugging again at the anal beads. This time, Jen let me pull them out one by one, shuddering mightily as each emerged.

“Well,” I said, “you’ve done as I commanded. Kneel.”

She kneeled. I walked around behind her and pulled her hair to either side, revealing the lock. It was the work of a moment to unlock it: once I had, she pulled it out and heaved a huge, gasping breath. She clutched at her throat. Small wonder: the throat dildo wasn’t much shorter than the one that had been in her pussy.

I walked around to stand over her again, and slapped her across the face. “Aren’t you going to thank me?”

She coughed several times, but choked out, “Thank you, sir!”

“You’re very welcome, slut. Now don’t get too comfortable,” I sneered. “Why don’t you unpack all of your lovely customization options?”

“Yes, sir,” she sputtered, and got to work.

For the sake of being able to fit everything in the bag, I’d already had Jen open the boxes of our purchases at the store. She knelt and pulled out several suits from the bag, and they sagged on the floor, deflated. Then she laid out the toys, which weren’t as big as the suits but far more numerous.

“That’s right,” I said, as she set down the last toy—a charging stand like at the store. It was compacted right now, but could telescope up high enough to become inescapable once it was lodged inside its corresponding device. A useful place to put Jen if ever I wanted a little time off.

“Now here’s what’s going to happen, my slutty little device.” I looked down at Jen, who was still kneeling and bent over. “I’m going to customize you. You’re going to put on whichever of these suits I want you put on, and you’re going to be who I tell you to be, and do what I tell you to do. Doesn’t that get you hot?”

She didn’t answer. I walked forward and grabbed her chin, making her look at me. “I said, doesn’t that get you hot?”

“Y-yes, sir.” She looked uneasy. I didn’t care. If she wanted out, she just had to say the safe word. She’d know it if she were my Robin, and if she wasn’t, well, who cared?

“That’s right. And you’ll be doing that until I say otherwise. And moreover, since you’ve made me very cross tonight….” I squeezed her chin harder. “I won’t say otherwise for a while, my subservient little device.”

“Um, sir?”

“I think I’ll start with putting you in the gimp suit.” I leaned down, picked it up, and traced the anatomical mouth gag with a finger. “So that slutty mouth of yours can’t be used for anything except, well….” I stuck my finger inside. “Well, I’m sure you can imagine.” I grinned. “And then, who knows? Maybe I’ll put one of these collars on—” I picked one up “—and lock it on. Maybe I’ll lose the key somewhere—”

“Sir?” Jen said, quietly. “Please stop.”

“Excuse me?” I grabbed her chin again and yanked it up. “Is that any way for my device to talk back?”

“Sir—Mark—please fucking stop!”

She was pleading with me.

I blinked a few times. Something that had been behind my eyes, like some kind of red haze that I hadn’t even noticed was there, dissipated. “Um,” I said, feeling like I’d been dunked in cold water.

“Mark,” she said. “Can we talk?” She didn’t stand up and loom over me or anything. She didn’t shout.

I walked over to the couch and sat on one side. Jen sat on the other, not far away.

My mind raced. If Jen didn’t want to go through with this—Prudence had said that their AIs could be trained, and if this was an AI then surely I’d been training it to be subservient at all times so—but if this was the original ‘jock’ personality coming back then why was she asking to talk—

“I’ve spent a lot of time trying to be… a huge fucking dick,” Jen said, interrupting my frantic train of thought. She was looking right at me. “It’s kinda what people expected. Today, I got a taste of being, well, not that, and it has been pretty great. And pretty hot.” She blushed but didn’t break eye contact. “And now I feel like I’ve got a chance to explore a new… well, a new fuckin’ Jen, is what.”

It occurred to me how much I loved that. Slipping in coarse profanity even in the middle of a heartfelt speech.

“And what you’re talking about right now, about being forced to be someone else….” She grimaced. “I’m not sure if I’m up for that. Right when I’m trying to figure out being me. And all the stuff you’re talking about on top of that, about being like your slave or robot or what the fuck?” Her eyes narrowed. “That’s really kind of fucked up, dude.”

If Jen was making these kinds of comments, these nuanced, heartfelt comments….

I let out a deep breath. She wasn’t an AI. She really was Robin under there.

And maybe, more importantly right now, she was Jen.

“Dude?” Jen waved a hand in front of my face. “You wanna fuckin’ say something?”

“Oh, sorry, I, um….” First things first. “I’m sorry. I got really carried away, it’s just… I guess I thought you liked it? You did at first.” I sighed. “But I should have known when to stop when you weren’t having fun anymore. If I’m in charge, then that’s my job, and I screwed up. I’m really sorry.” I laid down my hand on the couch, and she put hers on mine, covering it completely.

But I didn’t want to just talk to Jen. “There’s another thing. I’ve been having this, uh….” How to say this without breaking character…. “This argument with Robin recently? I won’t get into specifics, but something she did a little while ago made me really unsure if I could trust her. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, though. Sorry again.”

Jen winced. “Ah, shit, Robin.”

To be honest, I’d kind of been wondering—in the back of my mind—how that piece of our roleplay was going to work. But I had an answer ready. “Don’t worry about her. She’s been trying to get me to try new things forever. If I know her, she’ll be thrilled about today.”

“Huh.” Jen frowned. “I guess I knew this from back in college, but still—your girlfriend is fucking weird, dude.”

“Super fucking weird.”

We both snorted.

“So….” Jen looked back at the suits. “What are we gonna do with those?”

“Well.” I took a few seconds to speak as the thought coalesced in my mind. Then I scooched over. “So, Robin is really weird. And for a long time, I always felt like she was trying to drag me into it. Trying to get me to, I dunno, hypnotize her or put a leash around her neck or something.”

Jen frowned, but I waved my hand. “I’m going somewhere with this. Near the end, it felt like she was trying to make me pretend to be someone I’m not. Literally. But….” I slowed down as I found the words. “Looking back, it feels more like… like she was trying to let me be someone I am? But in a different way than I normally do.”

I laughed. “I mean, look at today! Robin would love to see me dominate her like this, and I didn’t know I could do that. And aside from that part right at the end, it’s been really fun.” Then I looked Jen in the eyes again. “So I guess what I’m saying is that I don’t want to make you into someone you’re not. You’re still going to be Jen. It’s just that you’re going to be exploring a different side of yourself.”

She frowned, considering that for a while. “Well… that sounds like it could be kinda fun.” She smirked. “Sir.”

“Just for safety….” I took a second to come up with a random word. “Apple juice. That’s our safe word. If you feel like I’m going too far again, just say that and I’ll stop immediately, okay? No questions asked.”

“That’s two words, dipshit.”

I snorted. “Now, now. Don’t talk that way to your sir, slut.”

She held my gaze defiantly. “Well, I’m very sorry about that, sir. What are you going to do to punish your disobedient slut?”

I smiled.

A while later, as I was watching some kinda Christmas movie, I noticed my drink was empty. I paused the movie, raised my voice, and called, “Oh, Jessabelle!”

There was a pause. Then I heard, “This is dumb. Sir.”

“Oh, okay, so being a table wasn’t dumb but this is?”

“Yes! Sir!”

“Just try it or I’m putting the bit gag back. That’s an order.”

There was a great big groan of a sigh, which I let slide. Then Jessabelle said, “Moo,” and crawled over from the corner of the room where she’d been waiting. With every step, the large cowbell around her neck made its clanking ring. “Moo. Sir.”

“You and I both know you don’t have to say ‘sir’ with the moos.”

“Moo.”

Jessabelle was obviously Jen underneath—the size was a giveaway, and also the voice hadn’t changed, because apparently layering successive suits over the top didn’t grant that functionality—but otherwise she was comprehensively transformed. Horns sprouted from her temple that were just long enough to grasp, her nose was more of a snout, her hair was short and black, and a tufted tail swung from her coccyx. Her musculature was covered up by fat that enhanced her curves. Instead of a tan, she sported pale skin that was randomly dappled black, including around one eye.

Perhaps redundantly, this skin had also come with a cow print bikini and buttplug tail. I’d elected to put her in the former only.

Once Jessabelle the cowgirl reached me and crawled onto the couch, I took my glass and held it under her massive breasts—bigger than even Jen’s. With my other hand, I grabbed the breast it was under and squeezed.

Jen let out a noise of pleasure as the drink poured out—egg nog, in fact, but it looked a lot like milk. But it wasn’t the right noise of pleasure. I patted her cheek. “Try again.”

This time, I squeezed hard, and Jen was ready. “Moooo!” I continued to knead at the breast, provoking similar noises, until my cup was full and her breasts had shrunk slightly. I’d put a fair amount of egg nog into this skinsuit’s reservoir, and I intended to drink it all.

“Good girl,” I said, tousling her short hair. She let out another moo, blushing a little—good, so the blushing still worked through two suits—and turned around to crawl to the rug she’d been kneeling on. As she did, I took the opportunity to grab her tail and give it a yank.

“Moo-oo!?” She froze stock-still. In that moment I could have sworn her hair stood on end.

“Huh. You can feel that?” I stood up and toyed with the tail a little more, tugging it this way and that.

“Moo,” she said, looking back at me with a flat expression even as she blushed furiously.

I snorted. “Guess that’s a yes. Well… good job so far with the noises, Jessabelle,” I said, undoing my pants. “But let’s see if there’s a more fun way to get the milk out.”

“Moo?”

I shoved the side of her rear, and she let me push her over on her side, then her front. She spread her legs expectantly, staring at me, and let out a bovine snort. I grabbed her legs, feeling the fat squish under my hands, and entered.

“Moo-oo!”

Before long she was lactating. Milk—hers and, eventually, mine—squirted all over her body. And afterward, Jessabelle was in charge of cleaning it up.

Jeeves, my definitely male butler, prepared dinner in a formal suit. “Your entree will be ready in a few minutes, my lord,” he said, in an accent that wasn’t British but definitely sounded refined. Or at least like someone trying to sound refined. “Might I offer you a choice of wines for this evening?”

“Thank you, Jeeves, but you’re enough for me,” I said, sauntering over behind him and grabbing his bulging cock through his pants. It was the cheesiest shit I could have possibly said, but if Jen could stay in character through this she could stay in character through anything.

Jeeves stiffened in both ways at once. “I’m sure my lord finds it… amusing… to toy with his Jeeves,” he said, his voice cracking a little. “But I really must finish the dish.”

“Oh, come on, Jeeves, I know you can multitask.” I let my free hand slide over his sculpted pectorals, and he bit his lip.

“Might I remind my lord that his lady will be back by week’s end?” His hands shook as he tried to stir the food, while I was unbuttoning his pants.

“She doesn’t need to know, Jeeves. It’s just you and me….”

I’d never really wondered if I was bisexual. I wasn’t sure if this counted, to be honest. But as I loosed my servant’s underpants, and the trapped cock burst free, I know something got excited inside me. “Well, Jeeves,” I said, pumping it slowly and watching his face. “Try not to let it get on my food.”

His teeth clenched as I started slow, but increased speed. Before long his cheeks were reddening, and he was panting. His hands shook so much he could no longer tend the dish.

And then, as I kept pumping, his pants got higher and higher pitched, until he at last let out a keening cry.

He clapped a hand to his mouth. I stopped immediately. “Excuse me, Jeeves?” I said, taking a step back and letting go. “Since when do you make that sort of noise?”

His face filled with horror. “Please don’t fire me, sir!” he said, in the same high pitched voice.

I paused. The plan had been for Jen to just play Jeeves and try to stay in that character, but… this other voice she was doing was higher-pitched than her usual. She was improvising. “Who are you?” I demanded. “And what have you done with my servant Jeeves?”

“It’s me, my lord. I’ve been Jeeves the whole time. Please don’t fire me, please….”

“Who are you really then, girl?”

It took her a moment to think of something, but only a moment. “Rachel, my lord. You weren’t hiring female servants, but I found this bodysuit, and… oh, please don’t tell the lady about this, my lord!” He—she—knelt down in front of me, grabbing my hand in supplication.

I snorted angrily, despite actually being quite impressed. It was very difficult to keep a straight face. “Get up, girl! You have a meal to finish, and then we can talk about how you can persuade me to keep your secret.”

“Thank you, my lord!” She stood up and got back to the cooking.

Not that I was done. As she got back to work, I pulled her pants down the rest of the way. “My lord?” she said, in that high pitched voice still.

“Just keep working.”

“Yes, my lord.”

She didn’t react as I continued to strip her until she was naked, putting her gloriously male body on display. Then I walked away to make some preparations. When I got back, she bowed to me. “Dinner is prepared, my lord. Um… what is that?”

“This,” I said, holding up the frilly maid outfit, “is a garment more appropriate to your identity, Rachel. Put it on.”

“Yes, my lord,” she said.

“But first….” I held up what was in my other hand—a bag of goodies including, but not limited to, a trio of egg vibrators and some tape. “Your punishment.”

She blinked as I taped one egg to each nipple. “Your breasts must be tight under there, Rachel. I bet that’s sensitive, huh?” I gave one of the nipples a flick, and she flinched. I laughed, and taped on the third vibrator around her dick. “Oh, and how could I forget!”

I reached into the bag, pulled out a jeweled buttplug, and shoved it in. She stood ramrod-straight for a moment. “M-my lord!” she yelped.

I reached around her and pressed the on button for each of the three vibrators, whose controls were also taped to the muscular body of Jeeves. She shivered and panted with the vibration. “Now put this on,” I said, throwing the maid outfit at her.

Shuddering but obedient, she carefully put on each piece of the outfit, from the sheer stockings to the frilly skirt to the headpiece. When complete, her masculine body looked quite incongruous in such a feminine outfit—particularly with how the penis was visible under the skirt, holding it up like a tentpole.

I allowed myself a moment to take stock. This had gone from Jen pretending to be ‘Jeeves’, to Jen pretending to be ‘Rachel’, pretending to be ‘Jeeves’.

(And at the back of my mind I reminded myself it was actually Robin pretending to be Jen pretending to be….)

But hell, we could go deeper.

“My, Jeeves,” I said, walking forward and squeezing her—his?—firm booty. “I do appreciate you taking the time to play pretend for me."

He blinked for a few seconds, standing uneasily on high heels. “Um… of course, my lord?” Masculine voice again.

“Now, now, you’ll need a higher voice than that if you want to play Rachel,” I said. “And what on earth is this?” I raised the skirt to reveal his erect member, nearly a foot long. I tutted. “You’ll never be a convincing girl with that. Something must be done.”

“My lord?” he said in a higher voice—but not as high as Rachel’s had been. It sounded credibly like a man trying to do a falsetto.

Before he could say more, I pulled the vibrator off his dick—it had done enough work—and pumped it a few times. It didn’t take much to bring him to orgasm, and soon ropes were splattering over my floor, while Jeeves bucked with each ejaculation.

“So messy,” I said, shaking my head. I walked again to the bag of toys and pulled out a very special toy—and now that Jeeves had gone soft, it was the perfect time to use it. I guided his shrunken member into the cage before sealing it with a click.

“There!” I stepped back, satisfied at how it was no longer visible under the skirt. “One more step, ‘Rachel’. What’s a good maid without makeup?” I pulled the last items from the bag—some of Robin’s lipstick and mascara.

He gulped, but took the makeup. “One moment, my lord,” he said in the same falsetto, and turned away from me to apply it. When he turned back around a minute later, the lipstick was overdone and the eyeshadow verged on ghoulish, like how a drag queen would apply it. Perfect.

“I am so glad Robin let us hire female staff,” I remarked, as ‘Rachel’ took deep breaths to steady himself. “Now won’t you please serve me, Rachel?”

“Oh—of course, my lord.” With a spatula and a falsetto he served the contents of the pan onto a plate, then placed it at my placemat. “Your supper, my lord.”

“Why, thank you, Rachel,” I said, smiling. “But… that’s not the kind of serving I’m talking about….” I stepped forward, took his chiseled chin in one hand, and his exposed balls in the other. “Aw, your clit is twitching!”

Jeeves’s eyes widened, and he didn’t respond for several seconds. Then he said, in Jen’s rough voice, “Apple juice.”

I immediately stepped back, hands raised. “Oh, shit. Sorry. Did I go too far?”

“I mean, kinda? Just….” She frowned and held out a hand. “Like, am I playing Rachel here, or Jeeves playing Rachel, or Rachel playing Jeeves playing Rachel….” She counted it out on her fingers. “… playing Jeeves?”

I stared at her. She stared at me.

We both burst out laughing so hard we cried.

“Okay, this roleplay got way too convoluted,” I said, wiping away a tear. “How about I just fuck your boypussy and call it quits for now?”

Jen, leaning on the counter, smirked. “Sounds good to me, my lord.”

The next role was a lot simpler, and ultimately a lot more fun for both of us.

“Come on, Jazzy!” I said, holding a cat dancer—one of those yard-long, flexible wires with the colorful feathers on the end. I twitched it appealingly, once, twice, to entice her, and watched her pupils widen, watched her gather her weight on her haunches.

And then I swung my hand out, sending the feather yards away.

Jazzy the oversized housecat—in fact, Jazzy the anthropomorphic tiger—pounced. She galloped across the floor on all fours, making the floor shake, chasing the bundle of feathers like it was her mission in life. Her collar jingled madly, her tail pointed up, and her stripes rippled with each movement.

Just as she was getting close to it, I twitched my hand the other way, sending the feathers sailing to the other side of the room. Jazzy skidded to a halt, planting her paws for stability. Then she leaped the other way—only for me to lead her to the other end of the room, then stymie her again. And again, and again.

She let out an annoyed yowl, but continued to chase. She certainly wasn’t lacking for energy, and she absolutely wasn’t lacking in commitment to the role. No ’this is stupid’ this time. Jen, underneath Jazzy, was enraptured.

But she was also getting frustrated with the chase, and yowled again. I grinned, and decided to let her have it by holding up the wire and keeping it still. Now the feathers were right up by the ceiling.

She paused, stalking around it for several seconds as she considered it. Then she jumped and grabbed the feathers in her teeth. “Owr,” she said, with a look of great satisfaction.

“Good kitty!” I scratched her behind her cat ears, and she purred and leaned into it—her back leg even thumped against the floor the way cats did! I was so proud. “Have your treat!”

The treat was a holiday cookie. I tossed it to her and Jazzy caught it in her mouth, releasing the feathers. She devoured it in moments, then looked expectantly at me.

I wagged my finger. “No more treats until you’ve had your dinner—”

The microwave dinged.

“And there it is!”

I walked over to the microwave, and Jazzy followed with many an eager meow. The bowl I took out was full of soup, not cat food—even in roleplay, especially in roleplay, there were limits—but it could be eaten in catlike fashion. As I lowered the bowl to the floor, Jazzy followed it nose-first the whole time, and when I set it down she immediately got to licking.

(Not as if she could have easily used her hands—they were hidden under great big paws that came separately from the rest of the bodysuit, because otherwise she wouldn’t be able to take the suit off. They were effectively bondage mitts.)

I admired her as she went. Her whole body was covered by a short layer of fur, which thinned out at certain key areas—but those areas were covered by a cat keyhole lingerie set, in a white that contrasted nicely against the orange and black fur. I reached out and gave her a few scratches north of her tail, but she ignored them to continue eating. Typical cat.

(Of course, Jen had been pretty active all day. She’d finished up the leftover pizza between roleplay sessions, but I hardly begrudged her more.)

With a sigh, I sat back on the couch and made myself comfortable as the sounds of lapping continued.

In a few minutes, she was done, and I watched her creep over to me. “Mrowr?” she said, looking right at me.

“What? You just ate and you want more treats?”

“Mrowr,” she whined, sitting on her haunches in front of me.

“No. You’ll get fat.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Mrow!” She reached up a paw and started batting at my pants.

“Ow! Hey! I don’t even have treats in those pockets—” I stopped. “Oh, you want this treat?”

She cocked her head to the side. “Rowr?”

I undid my button, then my zipper. “This treat?” I repeated, loosing my member.

She immediately stopped pawing at my jeans and became alert, pupils widening once again. She settled back on her haunches, wiggling slightly the same way she had with the toy—and then pounced.

“Oh, yes,” I said, eyes almost rolling back in my head. Her tongue was much rougher now than a normal human tongue, nearly to the point of being an unbearable stimulation. Nearly, but not quite. “Good kitty, good—holy shit!”

It was a different experience than getting a blowjob from Jen. Jazzy was playful, licking my shaft rather than sucking it, and even gave a few nibbles that were surprising but not painful. Even after a day of erotic activity, it would have been enough to bring me to orgasm quickly, but Jazzy slowed down as I got closer, drawing the experience out. For all that I was the dom here, I certainly felt like the helpless one.

But when she finally let me release, minutes later, I wasn’t complaining. “Good kitty,” I said once I’d stopped pumping, and scratched her behind the ear.

She swallowed, then smiled. “Mrow!” she said proudly.

As it turned out, the tiger suit was enormously comfortable—I guess being covered in fur was nice—so Jen just sort of kept wearing it for the rest of the night, even once she was done with playing a cat for the roleplay.

Well, mostly done with playing a cat.

“Ten,” I chanted, watching the ball drop on the TV. “Nine. Eight—come on, count! Seven!”

Jen was curled up on the couch next to me, head on my lap. Her tail twitched—I wasn’t sure how she did that, maybe a subtle motion of the hips—and she looked up in time to join me half-heartedly in, “Six. Five. Four.”

The ball neared the bottom of the pole—

“Three! Two! One!”

—and reached it.

“Happy New Year!” I exclaimed as fireworks went off on screen.

“Happy new year,” Jen repeated, and then yawned hugely, showing off teeth the same way a cat would. “Woo. Mrrr.”

I scratched her ear absentmindedly. “Is someone tired?” Auld Lang Syne was playing from the TV.

“Today’s been a fuckin’ workout, sir.” She stretched out with both hands across my lap, a ripple running through her body. “Lots of fun, though.”

“Thank you too.” I stroked her upper back. “I guess I’d better take those paws off so you can take the suit off, before you go to bed—”

“Nah. It’s like being made of blanket. Fuckin’ sweet.”

She yawned again, then pushed herself upright and hopped off the couch. On all fours she padded along to the bedroom, and I followed her in time to see her hop up onto the foot of the bed. It sank beneath her weight. “You don’t want a pillow?” I asked, as she kneaded at the mattress.

“Made of blanket,” she repeated, kneading for a few more seconds before settling down. She took a moment to tuck her tail around herself, then let her head rest on her arms and paws.

I shrugged, plugged my phone into its charger, stripped down to my boxers, and got into bed with a smile. The blankets were extra snug thanks to Jen’s weight.

“Hey, Mark?” Jen said, sounding very sleepy indeed.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks,” she said. “I know I’m… a bit much… and we’ve had some fights, but….” She yawned. “Today was great. I’d love to do it again. G’night.”

I lay there in bed, wondering if that had been Jen talking, or Robin. But I didn’t wonder for long, because after a minute of waiting I heard Jen snoring deeply. I’d never heard them before.

But in any case, I was grinning. Something interesting about Robin was that she was the most unwakeable person I’d ever met, and the thing was, this meant she wouldn’t be able to stop me from executing my plan.

I waited five minutes longer, letting the anticipation build up as I made doubly, triply sure that Jen was asleep. Then I slipped out of bed, walked over to Jen, leaned over her cat ear, and—

I paused, then took Jen’s paw-covered hands, and undid the paws. It took a minute of manipulation to reveal Jen’s hands underneath, and she didn’t stir at all. After that I tugged off the rest of her clothes for good measure, plus her collar.

Now, I whispered in Jen’s cat ear: “Erotech override: remove all layers.”

Smoothly, with robotic precision but without opening her eyes, Jen unfolded. Her feet landed on the floor, she stood in a neutral position, and then she reached down to her exposed slit and started pulling. The tiger costume stretched unnaturally, revealing Jen’s tan skin beneath, and she pulled both legs out, followed by pulling the costume smoothly up her body until it was fully removed, leaving only Jen.

Within another minute, she’d repeated the procedure, and now Jen was a floppy, hairy piece of rubber on the floor. What was left was the unadorned, mannequin body of the robot. “Erotech override,” I whispered again. “Disengage suit.”

The back opened up with a little hiss, and—

There was Robin. Still blissfully unconscious.

I wasn’t surprised to see her, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t happy. My chest filled with warmth as I eased her naked body out of the robot, onto the bed, and under the covers. She snored throughout the entire procedure, and I knew she wasn’t acting.

Then I looked at the suit with an evil grin. Just because I was happy to see her, didn’t mean there wasn’t a score or two to settle….

“Happy New Year, pussy!”

When Robin opened her eyes, it was to a faceful of Jenitals. “Mm?” she managed.

“Good to see you’re awake,” I sneered. It came easily. “I brought you breakfast in bed, just like old times. Eat up!”

“Mmff!?” I wasn’t sure what was more surprising to her, that I was in Jen or that she wasn’t, but either way she sounded shocked. She tried to squirm but couldn’t: I was facing the foot of the bed, kneeling with my legs on her arms. It wouldn’t hurt, but she wouldn’t be going anywhere any time soon. With another moan, much like our college days, she started digging in.

“That’s right, I know you love the taste,” I said, letting my hips buck into her face a little. “God, you haven’t lost a trick since college!”

“Mmff….” That sounded less surprised and more aroused, as her licking sped up. Yeah, I knew she’d be into it. And if she wasn’t, well, in the back of my mind I was listening for any mmfs that sounded like ‘pomegranate’.

That was just in the back of my mind. In the front of my mind, Jen had a few questions to ask. “So, I ran into Mark the other day,” I said, and pushed aside the covers to expose the rest of Robin. “You’ve got yourself a real catch.”

“Mm.”

“Yeah. I thought he was a fuckin’ pushover but it turns out he’s got something else in him!” I tugged at the collar around my neck: the ballgag, still there. It was a sign of submission to one man—and Robin was not that man. “We had a lot of fun. But, uh….” My voice took on more of an edge. “He seemed kinda pissed with you?”

“Mm?”

“He’s out with friends right now, but he wanted me to ask you something for him.” I cupped a hand under Robin’s legs, lifting her rear. “I dunno what it means, but what he said was, ‘Did you really buy an autonomous model?’”

I straightened my knees just enough for Robin to be able to talk, or rather to heave breaths for a few seconds first. “No,” she said, and I looked down between my legs to see her grinning. “But you can tell him I tipped the employees at Adoration so they would act like I had.”

“Yeah, that’s the kinda shit he told me you’d pull.” I grunted, and then brought my other hand up to spank her rear. She yelped. “And could you also tell him why you did that?”

“Well,” she said, her voice a little shaky after the slap, “tell him it was for the fun of getting in character. He’ll understand.”

“I bet he fuckin’ will.” Another spank, another yelp. “And he had something else he wanted me to say.”

I maneuvered myself off of Robin’s arms, only to position myself so I was held up by my arms above her body, putting us face to face. My hair fell loosely around her head. “He says he loves you a lot,” I said, “but don’t fuckin’ jerk him around like that, okay? He was really trying to do his best to be the person you wanted him to be—and that’s a whole ’nother can of fuckin’ worms, making him feel like he wasn’t good enough as just Mark—but you tricking him, twice in a row, was a dick move.”

But at the same time, I got it. Being able to be in character was so freeing. Just for instance, Jen was having this conversation a lot easier than Mark ever could have. “That’s what I heard, anyway,” I finished casually.

“You’re right.” Robin took a deep breath. “You’re right. It was selfish to lie to you just for my own satisfaction. And I didn’t mean to make you feel like you aren’t good enough on your own. I’m sorry, Mark, and I love you.”

I tilted my head to the side, genuinely confused. “The fuck you apologizing to me for? Tell sir when he comes back. Right now, you’re talking to Jen.”

Her eyes widened. “Sir—mmff?”

I cut her off with my hand on her mouth. “Tell you what,” I said, repositioning myself so that my crotch was over her mouth and my legs pinning her arms again. “While he’s out, I’m gonna help you practice that apology real good.” I pulled my hand off her face, but kneeled down to cover it with my folds once more, lip to lip. “I’ve got all day, and you’re gonna be a great fuckin’ orator when I’m through with you. Or at least you’ll be great at fuckin’ orally.”

“Mmff….”

I laughed. “Now eat up, pussy!”