[Photh]

Telgar, glad you like it. Yours too.

So... we hungry yet? Dig in.

1303 - Day Three

Rouse event 51%... Directive S01085 activated... Alert!

His bedside clock glowed 4:27 A.M. when Anthony's forth dream of the night faded. Free of the R.E.M. muscle block he rolled away from the clock sliding his left arm under his pillow.

This early in maturation 1303 couldn't override the safety directives, forcing 1303 to avoid possible discovery and roll from the foot of the bed. Silently the white sphere rolled down the hall, returning to the closet. Contact with the open suitcase deflated the sphere, soft dough oozing against gravity up the side. Undulating across black bubbles, 1303 sank into the deeper recess, reforming the manufacture shape. Further intense imprinting to wait until the next unconscious event.

The directive fulfilled, 1303 digested the limited data. Each dream replayed over and over, matching sensory and emotional elements to id and superego models. Admirable traits were embedded, those abhorrent, eliminated. All 4 remained unique after 500 loops; repressed transferral, alternative decisions, blameless violence, and carnal prowess.

Species features defined... Personality skeleton set... Resume.

Buzz, buzz, buzz...

He slapped the alarm clock -- 6 o'clock -- sharp pain rolling him back. A couple of minutes laying there and Anthony couldn't find a flag to raise on his morning pole. Usually had to pick out the best. Weird he couldn't remember any dream from last night. Blowing it off, spun to sit up. Didn't matter, really, it's a good omen any day. Let it lead him to the bathroom.

Breakfast was the usual, coffee and toaster waffles over the kitchen sink. Fingers worked the third button of his tartan shirt waiting for the toaster running over meeting Kelly in a couple hours. Shirt tails hung over blue shorts, hoping Kelly was single. Unbutton. What if she's married, button. Since his breakup with Susan, 2 months ago, he'd take willing, unbutton. But...

Two waffles jumped out of the toaster, leaving the third unbuttoned. Staring out the window, sipping sweet, black coffee, shifted the waffles to a small plate. The window's view of the backyard included a fresh hole next to the crabapple tree.

"Damn it!" Grabbing the plate, walked to the dining table, frustrated. "Bitch dug another one." Plopping down in a chair to finish breakfast, buttoning the third.

Empty plate and cup left on the table, he headed out to the shed for a shovel. A cool morning and 20 minutes filled the hole, covered it with fresh wood chips, without raising a sweat. He wished the Jacksons would tie up their dog, throwing the rake and shovel into the shed. Their kitchen was just over the fence behind the shed.

Fifty minutes flipping between news, cartoons, and weather it was time to go. Waving his keys at the closet, "Be a good girl Dee. I'll be back right after I see your mom's things."

Identity designated...

++++++

The scribbled directions got him there with a couple minutes to spare. Foot off the gas, his rusty S10 coasted down the street while he counted up the house numbers. Anthony spotted Aunt Denise's house 6 ahead on the right. Not that he could see the address, but a yellow BMW stood out in the row of comfortable colored cross-overs. Heavy tint on the windshield masked everything but a shape behind the wheel, tapping the gas to swing into the driveway.

Glued to the seat, waited for the driver to step out, eyes in his side view mirror. Tea green pumps, shear nylons. All right! Dress matched her shoes, high on her thighs, low enough to avoid surprises. Damn! Small purse, almost invisible, rode above her right hip, below 36 D's. Hello! Blue eyes, jade lipstick, 5'-4", cornsilk hair riding her shoulders. Jackpot!

He nearly tripped getting out of the truck, tea moon rising as she bent digging into a brown briefcase on the the back seat. Keeping her knees locked, gave him a clear view on purpose, taking her time. She knew -- he knew -- meant to shrink his brain and shorts. Don't rush moonset gorgeous, take your time.

Her tea moon rocked left, sensual voice reading from the back seat, "Mr. Norton?"

"Yea -- yeah. Anthony."

"Hi, I''m from Williams and Tern. We spoke on the phone yesterday."

"Hello." A fast gulp. "You must be Kelly, right?"

"Sure am." Moonset and door thud. "Sorry about that." Heading for the front door, "All that legal stuff. Dotting I's and crossing T's." She stopped on the front porch. "Mr. Norton, you coming?"

Don't be sorry doll. "You bet." Oh yeah! "Can we drop the mister?" Striding to the porch.

The nickel tour underway, Kelly turned into the Dining room, nearly chest bumping a housekeeper. Broom up, the 50-ish redhead demanded names. Kelly's voice rose notes, answering and easing the woman's surprise, lowering the broom. She introduced Anthony as Denise's heir and nephew, asking permission to see the Study. The housekeeper set the broom against the wall, tearing up. Offering him her condolences and trying to hug him.

Blotted her eyes with a tissue, ignoring Kelly, "She was a good woman, you know that. Smiled all the time." Brushing under her nose. "Don't you believe anything these shysters tell you. We never had trouble 'til they showed up." Balled tissue shoved in her apron. "The library's upstairs. Door's on the left." Vaguely waving the retrieved broom. "...in the basement if you need me."

"No, go, we're fine, thanks." Clucked Kelly at the housekeeper's back.

"Relax," Touching her shoulder. "We spooked her, that's all."

"Can't take people talking like I'm not here." Leaning slightly into his hand. "Sorry."

Upstairs was off the Living room, steep and shallow, built before modern codes. Narrow and dim at the top the hallway had only a small window at the far end. He let Kelly pass for 2 reasons. Manners wasn't one of them. The hall was built for single file and sunlight provided him a transparent dress.

One door on the left, 2 right, eliminated mistakes. Kelly ducked through the doorway, more light painting her dress back on, leaving him 3 steps behind. The walls were close but Anthony didn't feel boxed. Wallpaper above the chair rail a darker shirt match, County Wicklow tartan. A comforting hug.

"Whoa!" Staring into the Study.

The Study filled most of the second floor. Glass domes in the ceiling let light from bundles of fiber optic cables blanket the room in daylight. Bookcases lined the walls and included old-fashioned, sliding book ladders. Several free-standing bookcases dotted the space. All wore hats of stuffed binders and notepads. A half-dozen folding tables, each with their own computer, ringed a central oak desk. He spotted 3 different screen-savers from OS's her recognized. A seamless sheet of linoleum, not the cheap stuff either, covered the floor.

Kelly chuckled from her seat on the oak desk. "Knew how to keep secrets, didn't she?"

Moving to Kelly, "See why it took so long to find her letter."

"So, where to start?" Hopping off the desk.

Circling his fist in the air, deciding, pointed right. "That way."

"Great." Letting him lead. "But you take the ladders, I'm afraid of heights."

Anthony grinned, "Five feet isn't heights."

"You fall off then tell me that." Shaking the nearest ladder.

"Ok, I'm the monkey." Passing columns of unmarked Chemistry and Biology. "How'd she ever find anything?"

"Dr. Norton was a genius." Poking his back. "Genetics is cruel."

Flinching. "Fingernail."

Nothing but reference books lined the room. No luck. Anthony walked to the closest computer and, crossing his fingers, tapped the spacebar. Shooting stars vanished, replaced by a screen lock pop-up. Shit. That left digging through the single cases all day.

"What about over the door?" Kelly offered.

He did see a change, looking up there. Neat, labeled binders crammed the 2 rows above the door. Exchanging a quick nod, Kelly went for a ladder, he went for a look. She stood in the open doorway holding the ladder steady as he climbed.

Each label read as consonant and 4 digits. They were in alphabetic order but stopped at "P." Damn, back to the cases. Took the weight of his left foot to climb down before feeling fingers finding his zipper.

Put the weight back, relaxing his knees against the ladder, hearing brass teeth. Warm fingers weaved through his briefs, freeing his dick. A quick look caught cornsilk diving for his shorts. He shut his eyes and held on. Slow, wet licks smothering the zipper pinch of fast fingers.

Curly to tip, Kelly licked the top, winding her smooth underside over each fold. Hot saliva dripped, bathing his dick. Tip to curly, warm breath retraced, before another. Sweeping him right licking one side, left licking the other, lifting licking under. The caress of taste buds shooting everything between his legs, pumping inches into his cock.

Petting her tip over his, throbbed every fraction into his cock. Too close, her twirling tongue backed off, begging longer. Anthony rammed his hips against the ladder. Take it. Taste buds kept teasing, we're right right, you can make it. Longer. Good boy.

Deep throat. One plunge full to his curlies. Deep after deep. Kelly didn't stop, nose tapping each time. No pause. Deep after deep. Cock sliding under the roof of her mouth, stretching her throat, lips sucking at his shorts. Deep after deep. Teeth brushing the back of his tip, coaxing. Deep after deep.

"Ohhh! SHII...!!"

First jet launched down Kelly's throat. Lips locked around his tip ridge, mouth sucking, swallowing come. Her swirling tongue passing requests. Thank you sir, may I have another. Thank you sir, may I have another. Thank you sir...

"Hello?!" From down of the hall.

Hands shot to his crotch bouncing off the ladder instead. Damn! Where's Kelly? Opened his eyes and jumped down. Screw the noise, shoving his exhausted dick and green smudges into his shorts.

Act natural. "Yeah."

"Anthony, that you?"

Same voice but... Damp scarlet hair, black t-shirt and jeans appeared in the blocked doorway, crossed her arms and cocked her hips.

"You gonna let me pass?" Grabbing the ladder rails. "Sorry I'm late, lost my briefcase and directions." Smiled. "Kelly O'Neal. We talked on the phone yesterday."

++++++

Once clear of freeway congestion, blonde Kelly dropped pretenses. Her hands fell to her lap, legs bent back from the pedals. Shoes and dress lost substance. Leather and silk shredding, melted into her skin. Skin drained of color. Her hair disappeared, pulling in by the roots. Features smoothed over, simplified, wiping flat the individual. A naked, pale plasticine doll snuggled into her partner's leather seat.

"Call Cain." Chirping at the dash.

Five second silence, a click from the hands free phone, then a male command. "Report."

She straightened in the seat giving a polka report. "Got it, no problem, so easy to get. The sample's inside safely."

"Confirmation."

Radio volume knob spun itself clockwise. "Confirmed. She's got it tucked away, nice and safe."

"Good girl, Alice. Good girl! You just relax and let Vic bring you home." Long breath. "And Vic?"

"Yes, Cain."

"No speeding. She earned the ride." Snick.

Alice sank back, a smile on her face. She was a good girl, a good girl. Three fingers slid into her labia, adding satisfaction. Shut her eyes humming an low, alto aria. Masturbating in time.

The yellow Beemer signaled a lane change, nice and legal, moving to the right lane. At 69 Vic set the cruise control, settling in for the drive. Vic set the windows opaque, watching his partner from the tachometer.

Alice was enjoying a compliment as she always did, the first real one in months. Fingers fucking into her smooth pussy inches from his steering wheel. Thrusting 2, 3, 2, 3, to the second knuckle. Sure loved her music. Unable to keep her mouth closed, the aria burst into the car.

Vic caught himself rising the tach arm, letting the car coast back to cruise. Boss said no cops. And... a ride.

A white tentacle slumped from the steering column. Vic's natural form a tint lighter than his partners. Another 3 feet slid from its base as the tip molded into a solid, male phallus. It snaked the air, extending over Alice's waving knees, curving toward her pulsing knuckles. When her hand tapped it the opera cut.

Alice's eyes followed the tentacle from fingers to dash and back, goosebumps rising. Plucking wet imitators from her pussy, she curled both hands around her partner, tugging, spreading her thighs. Knees bumping against the door panel and gearshift.

Trilling. "More than one Vic! Please, oh, please -- PLEASE! There's two more! Please, please, please, please! You heard Cain! I'm a good girl! Good girl!"

Six more tentacles dropped underneath the glove compartment. "Good girls shouldn't beg for it. Take it easy. It's a long ride."

[Photh]

Beginning are simple. Endings are easy, Middles are haaard!
Thst's my story and I'm sticking to it.

1303 - Day Four

It took Anthony 4 attempts to get the right key in the lock swaying at the front door. The motion detecter had switched on the front light fine but the damn keyhole kept changing shape. He blamed the door, playing its games again, not the beer and whiskey shooters until last call. Keys dangling in the doorknob, the screen door refused to catch him tipping backward, nearly losing his balance and tossing the pre-bar bottle in his left hand.

Neural source recognized... Abnormal activity detected...

Dee rapidly analyzed the abnormality, immediately eliminating physical and psychological trauma and the effects of illegal narcotics. As he moved closer, to within range of Dee's activated physical senses, visual sensors perceived Anthony collapsing on a resilient object. Faint olfactory input confirmed inebriation, nearing the conscious maintaining limit.

WARNING! Foreign contamination detected! WARNING!

Dee had past a crucial milestone 8 hours ago; compartmental action. Passing this landmark had implemented mental protection and physical defenses. Transforming into a sphere Dee rolled over the case and out of the closet. Verglas ICE coated encephalic systems, preventing intrusion. Rapier AB ran potency analyses for efficient sterilization.

Progenitor identified... Physical decontamination essential... Security protocols released...

Anthony didn't notice the ball rolling toward him until it bumped his leg, reflex tugging his leg away. He looked down at the heavy intruder. A bowling ball, apparently covered in something, rested on the floor. Alcohol kept altering its color, first cream then untanned skin, while he laid down on the couch to get a closer look. He twisted the top off the cheap rye, toasting the new drinking buddy before taking a swig.

"I'ya. Hows id hangin'?" Tipping back another bottle shot. "Grade! Me too! Ha-ha-ha-ha!"

The laughing fit almost rolled him off the couch; the bottle slamming down on the coffee table; free hand slapping the floor next to the ball. The impact sent a shudder over the its surface, freezing the next laugh in his chest. In less than 2 heartbeats the ball collapsed into a mound of rippling skin. The shutters became ripples becoming waves, molding the mass into a familiar form.

"Dee?"

He let go of the bottle, reaching with both hands to pick Dee up. "Don' be scare."

The forgotten weight made it difficult but he did it, gently setting Dee on his stomach. His right hand soothing a frightened child. He apologized quietly, repeating it over and over, slowly stroking Dee each time. Each repetition, the pause grew longer until his hand stopped moving. Eyes and head rolled back, his hand fell away, unconscious.

Stupor detected... Subconscious injection sanctioned...

A quarter millimeter end slice curled from Dee nearest Anthony's waist. As it fell on his shorts the cotton, blue outside and white inside, dissolved. The slice thinned, expanding in area to cover his genitals. Traces of progenitor, lipstick and saliva, were pinpointed as more cotton disintegrated along the growing perimeter. Rapier constructs were released and started decontamination.

Twelve minutes later Anthony's tactile response levels were returned to normal. Rapier recorded sterilization complete and ended, dissolving the membrane over his crotch. Dee released Verglas restoring the neural link with Anthony and waited for his first REM cycle. Still immature, any interaction would be dependent on his mind not Dee's.

REM sleep detected... Injection initiated...

Anthony's mind scarcely stuttered merging Dee's presence. Instantly adding pronouns to Dee's system.

She stood in a gray room, a 5 year-old girl in blue jeans and a pink T-shirt. Sewn across its breast was a large, red valentine. His mind kept sending new data, threatening to engulf her. She grabbed at something tickling her ear, tugging a bright red curl into view before letting it string back. His mind told her she had baby blue eyes and references to a child movie star from the '30s.

She wasn't alone in the room. He was standing next to her, naked, along with 2 other females. An older woman in a lab coat stood nearby writing on a clipboard, watching him indulge his id. The other female was naked like him, lying on her back in midair; her appearance shifting constantly. His hands held her ankles in a wide, sexual V. Each slap of his hips plunging hard dick in her spread pussy, triggering another change.

"Are you somebody important?" She asked the older woman using his vocabulary.

He buried cock into 4 morphing cunts before answering her. "Doesn't talk." Thrust. "Just stands there." Thrust. "The tease."

Her little legs began tap dancing involuntarily. "Oh-kay. Guess I'm the entertainment."

"Of course." Thrust.

"But I need to ask you a few things." Little arms joining the dance.

Thrust. "Fire away." Thrust. "Schedule's." Thrust. "Wide open." Thrust, looking down. "Aren't you," Thrust.

++++++

Kelly knocked on the front door. She wore a dark blue dress and short heels. Having spotted the housekeeper's car pulling up she waited a few seconds before knocking again. The drive to Dr. Norton's estate was starting to feel routine, probably a bad thing, but she did like the place. Even the housekeeper. Besides, after yesterday's fiasco with the nephew, she'd better dig up something before he went ballistic on the senior partners.

The door cracked, bumping on the chain. "What is it this time?"

Pulling the new black briefcase across her legs, "I'm really sorry to bother you on Sunday..."

"Shampooing the carpets... Can't this wait 'til tomorrow?"

"Um -- Sorry, it can't." Pausing for a better make this professional breath. "Mrs. O'Shea, Doctor Norton's nephew was here yesterday, looking for something else his Aunt may've left him. The fake he met up with made that impossible."

"Ain't it your business to see this didn't happen? Keeping the o'bit ghoulies away?"

"Yeah, it is. I've already apologized on behalf of Williams and Tern. It won't happen again." She relaxed. "It's my problem and I'll have fresh carpet burns tomorrow to prove it. But I really need to get upstairs before then. Please."

"What for?" Asking out of habit, having decided and pushing the door enough to slide the chain off.

"To find what he's looking for. A final note, farewell, old keepsake of his she kept, not sure." Stepping in and pass the housekeeper. "I'll know it when I find it. Thanks! Thanks a lot." Moving quickly to the stairs, "Call me before you lock up."

Bumping the door closed with her hip. "Laywers... Humph!"

++++++

The windowless room was 8' by 12' sheathed in riveted, steel panels painted a dingy blue. One lightbulb caged in the ceiling lit the 23 mannequins standing inside. A dozen were molded female, the others male. Their white bodies casting hard shadows across their neighbors. The sound metal scraping metal filled the room before one of the 8' walls swung open on rusty hinges.

Two puppets, absent any humanlike features except thumbs, leaned against the huge door, pushing it open. A frustrated technician stood behind them rereading a small note waiting for the puppets to get the door open.

He crumple the note throwing it and its message into the room. "286 and 287, move your asses. 105 wants you in his office yesterday."

[Photh]

Gimme an E! Gimme and X! Gimme an... Oh, forget it!
There's no nice way to say it. Time for some sexless exposition.

1303 - Day Five

Blue arcs of electricity outlined two male mannequins rocking upright after the technician announced their IDs. They were being released early for some reason. Each wound a separate path through the maze of posed bodies, careful to avoid more contact and further jolts of DC. The reduced amperage with the door open charring alabaster rather than vaporizing with the door shut.

The touch of bare feet on warehouse concrete triggered their transformations. 286 squashed. His generic 6' compressed 6", the lost height thickening his frame. Lifeless white shifting through cream, peach, caramel, coffee, to dark chocolate. 287 stretched. Arms and legs sacrificing girth for length and 5" of height. Opaque white becoming pale and translucent, hazing a fine, venous mesh. Their 2 token anatomies molding into aggressive faces, ripped muscle, and blatant masculinity dangling between their thighs.

Unimpressed, the tech shot a thumb over his shoulder. "Why you standing there? Move!"

His shout got them moving, jogging across the warehouse floor and out a side exit. Once outside they slowed to a quick march, crossing the alley and through a fire exit in the neighboring building. Eight flights up, out of 12 to the roof, they stopped in front of the stairway exit. For over an minute they stood there side by side, motionless, thin hand in thick.

An icy blast of AC greeted them stepping through the doorway. Thirty feet of dark blue carpet ringed the perimeter of the fourth floor. Gray painted, concrete block rose inside the carpet moat walling off the floor's only room. The clunk of the door latch behind them was answered by 2 soft clicks -- safety toggles. They stopped, a pair of guards wearing orange, biohazard suits leveling silenced, HK417 muzzles at their sternums. Two grins and crotch guns rising to return the guard hello.

The left guard lifted her AR after a couple of seconds. "It's ok, they're expected." Her voice muffled through the suit's visor.

"You sure?" Her partner asked, another female, maintaining aim on the taller male.

"I'm sure." Free arm waving the other off. "286 and 287, right?"

"Yes ma'am." The shorter male answered. The AC having little effect on his black barrel, now aiming at her.

"Never show up before shift..." The right guard sighed, ordering her AR. Her eyes on the tall male's long gun.

"Shields up and follow me." The first guard led them to the office airlock around the corner. "420 showed up yesterday all chirps and warbles. Still in there."

Her order was late. Both having rasied epidermal, Aspis ED before entering the forth floor.

The shorter male elbowed his partner to get his attention, as the guard rambled on, before whispering, "Alice..."

At the airlock the lead guard grabbed the lock arm. swinging it up and out. The other guard backed away from the trio keeping ready. Her AR drifting from order to aim. Negative pressure inside and outside AC fought hard to keep the airlock closed. The males didn't help, wasn't their job, eyes instead watching the flex of her latex covered ass. Their focus finally shifted when the guard managed to pull a shoulder wide gap in the airlock. Both slipping quickly inside before the guard lost her grip. The outside light disappearing the instant they passed her, letting the airlock suck shut behind them.

A score of D65 light panels spaced throughout the room brightened at the muffled thud of the guard seating the lock arm outside. Daylight filling the windowless room. There were no interior walls, each area defined by its furnishings alone. The office being directly inside the airlock.

A tall back, executive chair was turned, facing away, behind a large glass top desk 15' in front of them. Beyond the chair a wall of 16 HD screens flipped every few seconds through cable news channels; computer desktops; and close-circuit camera feeds. Half the screens were quartered to show 4 different feeds of the same category. This image barrage being watched quietly by the chair's hidden occupant. Only a slender, left arm was visible, extending over the armrest, slowly conducting without music.

The pair followed the arm line to 420 standing against the far wall. She stood with her arms out, feet spread, shreds of her Sartorial ED hanging from her. A swarm of Vespa PHERO, minute black jacks, keeping her motionless. A small cloud swirled in her mouth, keeping it open, as the main swarm stabbed her, over and over, under the conductor's direction. Tears streaked her cheeks and neck. The damp lines flowing together in the valley between her breasts. Any whimper and the cloud instantly impaled her tongue and palate.

One of the monitors stopped flipping. Its single display, a feed from a hidden camera mounted between the screens, showing the aroused pair standing at the airlock.

In unison, "You wanted to see us, Cain?"

Cain's arm steadied. "Cole, Cal, you're late."

"Yes Sir." Cal answered, his blue tinted skin obvious in the D65 produced daylight.

"No excuses." Added Cole, stepping forward, trying to get 420 beyond his peripheral vision.

"Miss Alice failed to get the DNA." His hand curling into a fist. "Trying to pass off spermatozoon as female." This fist punched Alice's direction, triggering a suffocated scream. "You know the difference between male and female humans don't you?"

*****

Kelly got to the office early expecting a lion, but getting the lamb. No phone call from the nephew or complaints from the housekeeper. Just another quiet Monday morning, typing up weekend notes and briefs from the senior partners. Around 1:30 p.m. she finished typing and registered the files in the electronic document management system.

Kenesha spotted her leaning back, finished. "You want to grab a late lunch?"

"Sorry, can't. I've got estate files to summarize before Mr. Tern sees them." Bowing out with a white lie.

"Noser." Grabbing her purse.

"Bring me back a meatball sub."

"Girl, you're gonna explode someday." Kenesha teased passing behind Kelly. "Back in 20."

Kelly pulled the true reason for skipping lunch out of her briefcase after Kenesha left. A USB drive with 9 encrypted files and a 1" binder she took from Dr. Norton's house yesterday. The files were from 4 different systems, in scattered directories, and all prefixed, "DNA", followed by a 6 digit date. The binder label, "D7865", also matched the prefix, when she recognized the numbers were decimal ASCII for "NA". Its pages were random copies from the other binders surrounded by doodles and scribbles.

Kenesha's return with her sub was just a blip in Kelly's afternoon. She was lost in a farrago of doodled letters and numerals. A dozen pages of staring at them she noticed little X's and O's sometimes were buried along with the characters and digits. She couldn't tell if they were part of the original or added later but they were there. Dr. Norton, judging by the letters after her name, had been a genius and not a lovesick schoolgirl. So why were they there?

The clock read 5:25 p.m. and Kenesha leaned over to break Kelly's frustration. "Let's go Kell. Calvin's picking me up and it's my turn to lock up."

"Huh?" Kelly returned hearing her name.

"You've been staring at those chicken scratchings all afternoon. Give it up." Shaking her keys at Kelly. "Uncontested probate means you don't hav'ta go cross-eyed."

“Cross… Eyed..." Kelly slowly parroted, then wrote madly for a few seconds. "Got it!" Spinning her chair to Kenesha. "Thanks Kee. I'll lock up tonight. Got a couple things to try then I'm out of here -- promise."

"Better." Kenesha warned her. "I'm the only one around her that makes this look good." Lightly tapping her fingernail against a caramel nostril as she rushed by. "Later."

Kelly stuffed the binder back in her briefcase before picking the oldest file, DNA940909. A few seconds wait and a simple prompt box appeared asking for a passphrase. She read down the letters she jolted down from the first pages in the binder. She typed in, OssianCycle, and pressed return. It took over a minute for the processing bar to fill up and the decrypted text to pop up. The text displayed much smaller than the encrypted size suggested.

Friday, September 9, 1994
Desire Nearly Attained

Doctor Rannakik knocked our socks off today!

Engineered mitochondria as interface with the synthetic systems. His SI design is so elegant I couldn't help myself -- kissed him full on the lips! Of course Doctor Sanders and the rest of the team stopped at handshakes and back pats.

If Sandy's group gets his viscous semiconductor off the drawing board -- we got it! His Liquid IC -- my AI -- Ranna's New Eve. It's perfect!

Better get the what's next checklist down before I get carried away...
1. Get Ranna to incorporate his design in our project proposal.
2. Get update on proof of concept experiments from Sandy.
3. See what my group can do to help.
4. Analyze the adaptive learning logs.
5. Refactor the AI programs.
6. Schedule project update with Odonto R&D V.P.

“Wha’tha?”

*****

The green glow from the alarm clock was the only light when Dee rolled into the bedroom. Her white sphere turned very slow, inching across the carpeted floor. Anthony went to bed early but Dee had been overwhelmed, unable to move, until his first dream ended.

Another sensory system had activated this afternoon and Dee needed time to compensate for the new flood of data. The feel of foam. Its give as she shifted her center of gravity. The caress of cool air from the house AC. New physical sensations bombarding inactive subsystems with data they couldn't process. Every packet rerouting internally for further analysis. She rejected raising ICE to counter rerouting since contact with Anthony would also be severed.

Repeated analysis failing and a shift in Anthony's brainwave patterns finally forced her to temporarily route all tactile data to her null, overwrite memory. Dee oozed to the closet floor reforming a sphere and rolling out of the closet. Her progress was slow. Each new surface she contacted or shape change took her seconds to adapt to. The cold edge of her suitcase. The smooth finish on the wood floor; bumps rolling over seams between the floorboards; the fluffy give of carpet; another delay in reaching Anthony.
Green LEDs on the clock showed 11:07 when Dee made it to the side of Anthony's bed.

Trap T45323 detected... Praxis Recovery Initiated…

Dee extruded a finger wide tendril upwards from her sphere. It waved slightly, stretching to reach the top of the mattress before curling to rest on the sheet. Once the tip had settled, a fist sized bulge formed at the tendril's lower end and was swallowed in reverse, undulating up and around the curl. Then another; and another, transferring her mass from the carpet to Anthony's bed.

She oozed over to Anthony's sleeping body. He lay on his back, mouth closed, breathing through his nose. One arm under his pillow, the other lifting, to drop over Dee as he felt her move onto his stomach.

Tactile restart complete... Input trap removed.

Her tactile system began functioning. All data routing to the restarted subsystem normally and links to 2 dozen more started automatically. New concepts, new words, appending everywhere her.

Then Dee felt him! Not sense -- felt -- Anthony!

The smooth warmth of his stomach; the rough warmth of his hand; the gentle heat of his breathing. His body feeding hers in new ways. She spread up and down, draping more and more skin, to climax on chest hair and heat spike at his crotch.

A new directive formed in Dee -- Master.

This post has been edited by Photh: 07 November 2010 - 01:34 AM

[Sickpuppy]

wb Photh

[Photh]

Sickpuppy, on 09 November 2010 - 01:42 PM, said:

wb Photh

Thanks Puppy, but I didn't leave exactly. Just reading and writing in the corner -- over there -- and working on my Aqualung impression.
Watching the pretty panties run.

[Sickpuppy]

Eyeing lil girls with bad intent?

[Photh]

You hav-ta ask?

[Photh]

Some answers first.

Yes, Day six is coming. Like pulling teeth through my ass at the moment but it’s coming.
No, and I’ve the grass stains to prove it.
Yes, still waiting for D-tales.
Maybe, but she’s not so I won’t.
And finally. Yes, only when my other hand gets sore.



Proving this is really my keyboard here’s a road sign, bumper stickers, and rear view dangles I’d love to see.

Road Rage Balms

CAUTION: Phone Kites Ahead

UT - more like OOD

Sure that isn’t a LAKKA?

Your brakes work FINE - Quit checking!

I’m on Cruise, what you on?

Lanes aren’t Pools! No diving allowed.

I miss a memo? (red light) means CREEP now?

Stupid me - expecting phone booths to obey speed limits.

Spent all that $$$ and didn’t get turn signals?

Not here as your (speed limit sign).

So sorry I’m on YOUR road -- here (small rock).

Braking? R-IGHT, must be a (red light) somewhere.

PASS ASS. (Second word is shadow)