Chapter 1: How Things Must Be

“Hey, Fuckshit, come over here for a bit. I need your micro-assembly skills.”

That was my boss. Of course, at the time she wasn’t my boss so much as owner. Except she wasn’t exactly my owner, either. Perhaps it was closer to say I was her apprentice. Except for the fact that she wasn’t teaching me a trade. You could say that we had a complicated relationship. Except we didn’t.

Actually, it’s really quite simple. I was her minion. Her henchwoman, or henchgirl, to be accurate. She didn’t own me but she didn’t pay me either. Oh sure, I could have left anytime I like but there was nowhere for me to go. Besides, without her resources there is no way I could have maintained all my cybernetic enhancements. Cyborgs don’t last long without proper maintenance. So I was stuck in my situation with the woman who was my putative employer but who in truth was much more like an owner.

“Fuckshit! I said I need your help! Get your ass over here!” My boss again. Since my name is Maralee and not Fuckshit I continued to ignore her.

I was busy doing self-maintenance. Virtually all cybernetic enhancements require regular maintenance but none more than cybernetic hands. In my case my hands double as weapon systems. In fact, I have several pairs of such hands. All of them designed by my boss who just happens to be one of the galaxy’s leading scientific minds. She’s also something of a loon although I’d never say that to her.

Still bent over my work I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Hey, Fuckshit. What’s wrong with you? How many times do I have to ask you to give me a hand?”

I looked up to see my boss glaring back down at me, her face the very picture of severe displeasure. She happens to be both a very beautiful and striking woman. She’s also very imposing and easily towers over me. Although, it’s easy to tower over me as I’m fairly short and skinny (although my girlfriend insists that I’m not actually skinny, just slender). She’s also black. Well, more like a rich chocolaty brown to be more accurate. With long dark hair that cascades over her shoulders in loose ringlets.

But her most striking feature is her eyes. She has this way ​of staring right through a person. As if you were nothing more than an insignificant wisp of vapor from someone’s cup of coffee. Or worse, an insignificant insect which she would be crushing under her heel soon enough. The effect is only amplified by the steel-rimmed glasses she wears. I’m not convinced she actually needs glasses and my theory is that she wears them only for the psychological effect they have on others.

She was staring at me, waiting for answer. “Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t realize you were talking to me.”

“You didn’t realize I was talking to you?” she said, her voice like solid ice. “I called your name twice!”

I shook my head. “No, you said, ‘Fuckshit’. My name isn’t Fuckshit.”

“What? No, I did not call you ‘Fuckshit’!” she replied. “I clearly called your name which is Fuckshit!”

“See, you just called me Fuckshit again!” I said.

“No I did not call you ‘Fuckshit’, Fuckshit!” At this point her eyes were bulging and bits of spittle flew from her lips. I couldn’t help but shrink back from her. “I can’t believe you think I’d call you ‘Fuckshit’, Fuckshit! I’m pretty sure I know what your name is, Fuckshit!”

At that point she was trembling in fury and I was shaking in fear. “Yes, Doctor,” I replied. I wasn’t sure what was going on but I knew that I didn’t want to anger the Doctor any further than I already had. “I apologize. I wasn’t paying attention. I was busy changing out the plasma connectors in my hand units.”

“You can come back to that later,” she said. “Right now I need your help on a new prototype I’m working on.”

Not trusting myself to talk I merely nodded, stood up from my workbench and followed her to the bench on the other side of the spacious but cluttered workshop where she was working on what was clearly a cybernetic hand. An unfinished hand still lacking the skin-like covering that all my cybernetic hands had.

“I need you to line up the emitter plate with the flash chamber,” she said. “I just don’t have the fine motor control you have when you’re using your manipulators.”

I suppose I should mention that I didn’t actually have hands at that point. Or I should say I wasn’t wearing my hands. Or using them if that sounds better. Instead, what I had were a pair of ​multipurpose tool sets that I use when I do maintenance on my cyborg components. Or when I’m helping the Doctor build whatever device she happens to be working on at the time.

I bent over the cybernetic hand on the Doctor’s workbench and zoomed in on the components she had mentioned. Beyond the cybernetic limbs the Doctor had seen fit to augment both my ability to see and my ability to hear. I’m one of the few people who have eyes and ears that come with updateable operating systems. Sometimes to my detriment.

I immediately saw her problem, there was no way for her to fit her fingers into the tiny space between the plate and the flash chamber. Fortunately, my manipulators were designed for exactly that sort of work. From my left hand tool set I extended a pair of thin finger-like manipulators and inserted then into the tiny crevice and grasped the flash chamber. It took me a few seconds to align the chamber with the emitter plate. Using my right hand tool set I extended an even thinner wire and tacked the flash chamber into place.

I withdrew my manipulators and stood up, backing away from the bench. “All done. Is there anything else you need me to do, Doctor?”

“Nope, that’s all I needed,” she said. “Good work, Fuckshit.” She looked me over carefully as if appraising me. “Are you feeling okay? Is there something wrong?”

“No, not at all,” I said. I certainly wasn’t going to bring up the fact that she had been calling me ‘Fuckshit’. Not after her earlier reaction.

“You know you can tell me if there’s something bothering you,” she said. “You seem a little ... I don’t know ... off I guess. If you’re worried about that little scene earlier, don’t be. I’m not angry or anything.”

It hit me, she was put off by my overly polite use of her title. “No, everything is fine, Doctor Eliza.” I gave her my best smile. “Really, I’m doing just great.”

She smiled back at me and put a hand on my shoulder. “That’s my girl,” she said as she gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Why don’t you finish up with what you’re working on now and then call it a day? When you’re done check with Zaxie to see if she needs any help with dinner tonight. I think she mentioned needing some stuff from the grocer’s so you might need to make a quick trip into town.”

I nodded, grinning like a fool. A trip to the grocer’s might not seem like a big deal, but to me it was always the highlight of any day in which it happened. I didn’t get out much.

I poked my head into the kitchen. “Hey, Miss Zaxie, are you here? Doctor Eliza told me I should check with you about tonight’s supper.” ​ Zaxie popped up from behind the large island in the middle of the spacious kitchen. When I say spacious I mean spacious, the kitchen is big enough to feed fifty people at a time. Doctor Eliza doesn’t do anything by halves. In addition to the island the kitchen has a wrap-around slate counter and a overhead rack suspended from the ceiling. The rack is home to enough kitchen utensils that Zaxie could cook every meal for a week straight without using same utensil twice. “Ah, Fuckshit, there you are. Eliza said you’d be finished with your work soon.” She fumbled around in her apron before pulling out a folded piece of paper. “I made a list of what we need from the grocer. I need you back in about ninety minutes so you can take your time as long as you’re back by then. You can stop by your favorite bakery if you like.” She winked at me as she handed me the shopping list.

For a moment I mulled over her use of the word ‘fuckshit’ as my name. I really didn’t know what to think of it. Perhaps it was some sort of slang? Or a joke? I thought about mentioning it to her but given the Doctor’s reaction I decided that it was best just to ignore it. Although it was somewhat disconcerting to hear Zaxie use profanity. It was very unlike her.

I shrugged, left the kitchen and cut through the living room to the back door. From the back door it is a short walk across the yard to the shed that sits on the edge of Doctor Eliza’s property.

One of the first things I did once I had full use of my cybernetic prosthetics was to refurbish the shed. The Doctor didn’t see the point of worrying about the shed but in the end she let me do as I wished. It had been an ugly weather beaten wreck and in an eager attempt to be useful around the house I re-shingled the roof and painted the shed yellow with white for the trim. Once it was finished Doctor Eliza told me it looked like a giant banana cream pie. I prefer to think she was being complimentary but when I offered to paint the house she insisted on choosing the paint.

Inside the shed, along with all the tools I use for yard maintenance, is where I keep my bicycle. A low tech mode of transportation but one I enjoy. From the house the grocer’s is about fifteen minutes by bicycle even though we live on the edge of Mayweather and the grocer’s is towards the center of town. From that you might get the idea that Mayweather is a small town. Of course, with a name like Mayweather you wouldn’t exactly expect a bustling metropolis.

In the shed I took down my bicycle from where it hung on the wall and set it down on the floor of the shed before wheeling it out the open door. The bicycle was old but in good condition. It was mine and I took care to keep it in good working order. The chain was always oiled, the tires changed whenever they showed signs of wear and the brake pads changed every year. I didn’t own much but what I did I made sure to take care of. I can’t say that it was a good looking bicycle what with the granny basket in front along with being painted with a floral pattern that had faded years ago but it did the job of getting me into Mayweather and back.

I hopped on the bicycle and rode down the driveway to the road and turned left towards the town center. Turn right and you’re headed out even deeper into the countryside with kilometers of woods broken up by a few farms.

I rode past the house of our nearest neighbor. I waved to Ms. Landers who was out in the front yard taking down laundry off of the clothes line. She waved back. “Good day to you, Fuckshit! Off to the grocer’s are you?”

​”Yes, Ma’am!” I yelled back as I rode around the curve in the road and she disappeared from sight. “See you!”

After that I passed by the town’s only church building. Sometimes I would see someone cutting grass but that day the church grounds were empty. As I passed the church building I spotted Doctor Eliza’s daughter walking home from school. As I drew closer to her I slowed the bicycle and finally came to a stop a few scant meters in front of her.

Doctor Eliza’s daughter is perhaps even more beautiful than her mother if less imposing. She doesn’t have her mother’s height but she still tops me by several centimeters. She also doesn’t have the Doctor’s charismatic presence and she probably won’t end up being as brilliant as the Doctor either. That being said she is still exceedingly smart and exceedingly beautiful and when it comes to sheer physical attractiveness she nearly rivals Zaxie.

“Hey, Fuckshit,” she said with an easy grin as she closed within conversational distance with me.

“Hello, Miss Trina,” I said. “How was your day at school?”

“Oh, same as it ever is, Fuckshit,” she said. “You remember how it was, right, Fuckshit?”

I bit my tongue for a moment. I never went to what one would call a traditional school. My upbringing lacked the type of luxuries that most people would take for granted. Trina knew this full well. “Sure, of course,” I finally said, forcing a bright smile.

“So, off to pick up some groceries, Fuckshit?” she asked, returning my smile. In fact, she was smiling so much that it looked as if she also was forcing her smile.

“Yes, that’s right,” I said.

“So, what’s Zaxie cooking tonight, Fuckshit?”

“I have to admit, I don’t know, Miss Trina,” I said. “Miss Zaxie gave me a shopping list but she didn’t tell me what she was planning on making.”

“Ah, I see,” Trina said. “So, planning on stopping by your favorite bakery, Fuckshit?”

“If time allows,” I replied, breaking eye contact with her.

​”Oh, I’m sure time will allow, Fuckshit,” she said. “Zaxie always makes sure you have enough time for your little meetings with Mayweather’s favorite little Asian baker. I don’t know what it is about her that interests you so much. She’s cute and all but she’s not nearly as hot as I am. Plus, I’m sure her cock is tiny.” She laughed, a crude and vulgar sound.

“It’s bigger than yours,” I said. The look of utter shock on her face was priceless. I was shocked as well but I didn’t let it show. If there was one thing I knew how to do it was keeping my face from reflecting my emotions. My own peculiar disabilities and life in the Doctor’s household had taught me to be a master of hiding my feelings.

Finally, Trina recovered from her shock. “What the hell?”

Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, as the saying went. My punishment was going to be the same no matter I did so there was no harm in elaborating. “You surmised that Robin’s penis is small. You are incorrect, thus I am correcting you. Her penis is both significantly longer and substantially thicker than yours. It’s also better formed and more pleasing to the eye. Although, I have to admit that is a matter of personal taste and entirely subjective. It’s very likely that some people will prefer your shorter, thinner penis.”

At that point, Trina seemed beyond words. She just stared at me for several long moments, her ability to speak seemingly taken from her. Glowering at me she finally regained her faculty of speech. “I will see you later, Fuckshit! You better really enjoy yourself at the bakery because you won’t enjoy what’s in store for you!”

As I said, Mayweather is a small town. One bank, one church, one cinema with only three screens and one grocer. It was exactly the sort of town where everyone knows everyone else. And everyone knows who I am. Although to be honest they probably would have known anyhow, Doctor Eliza is pretty famous, well, everywhere. Easily Mayweather’s most famous citizen.

So, of course, everyone at the grocer’s recognized me. And being the friendly sort of folk they are, quite a few stopped to talk to me. Or at the very least, greet me.

“Hey there, Fuckshit, Zaxie has you running errands today, I see,” said Ms. Kemp as I pulled six two-liter jugs of low-fat milk from the cooler. Ms. Kemp, a short roundish woman, owns Mayweather’s only ​laundromat and dry cleaning service. Sometimes I take the Doctor’s business suits to her dry cleaners when the Doctor has an important business meeting to attend or when we have to perform demonstrations for important clients.

“That’s right Ma’am,” I said. “You know how it is, always running out of something you need.” I gave her an apologetic smile and backed away. I didn’t want to get caught up in long conversations about mundane life. After my conversation with Trina I wanted more than anything to visit the bakery and see Robin. What I didn’t want was to spend what little precious free time I had talking to Ms. Kemp about the weather.

“Zaxie got you shopping again, eh, Miss Fuckshit?” said Farmer Fletcher from behind me as I selected a package of chuck roast. Farmer Fletcher owns and operates a dairy farm up-valley with her three teen-age daughters. She looks like a typical farmer with her faded blue overalls, heavy work boots and an easy smile. Years of working out in the sun has tanned and aged her face but she’s still attractive for all that.

“Yes Ma’am,” I said and held up one of the two-liter jugs of milk. “Just out buying more of your farm’s delicious milk. Zaxie drinks two of these every day. She’s probably your best customer.”

“In that case you tell her thanks for me,” she said. “Well, I’d love to stay and talk but I’ve got three teen-age girls eating me out of house and home. So here I am out running errands. Guess me and you are just a couple of gophers today, ain’t that right?”

I nodded. “Yes, but I don’t mind it. It’s nice to come into town.”

Farmer Fletcher chuckled at that. “I’ll bet it is. You tell that little baker of yours I said hi when you see her.”

Fortunately for me I was able to finish my shopping without any more interruptions. I paid for the groceries and left as quickly as I could. Outside, I piled groceries in the bicycle’s granny basket. From there it was a short ride to A Little Slice of Heaven bakery. I parked my bicycle behind the bakery next to the overhead service door as I usually do and pulled the bags of groceries out of the granny basket.

The overhead door was unlocked, I lifted it up and entered the storage room before pulling the door back down. I navigated my way past all the shelving, crates and bins before exiting the room and entering the bakery proper. Robin’s mother was busy putting bread into the oven to bake. Besides her there were two other employees working. ​ “Hello, Ms Park, is Robin... ?”

Ms Park turned from the oven and hung her baker’s peel on a rack set into the wall near the oven. “Why, hello there, Fuckshit,” she said. “I didn’t hear you come in. And to answer your question, Robin is out front at the register. She’ll be delighted to see you, I’m sure.”

I held up the bags of groceries. “Uh, I had to go shopping.”

She took the bags from me. “I’ll just put these in the cooler while you’re here. Now go scamper up front. Don’t worry, we’ll stay back here while you visit. Too busy working to bother you girls anyway.”

I scampered. As Ms Park had said, Robin was behind the register. Better yet, there weren’t any customers.

Typical of almost every neighborhood bakery in the universe A Little Slice of Heaven is fronted by large picture windows. The picture window to the right of front entrance features the bakery logo which happens to be a cute little cartoon caricature of Robin in her bakery uniform holding up a slice of pie. Along both windows are display racks for baked goods that don’t require refrigeration and are typically filled with boxes of cookies, doughnuts and buns as well as fresh baked loaves of bread. Next to the racks are several small tables that look more like an afterthought than a deliberate arrangement.

In line with the register are the refrigerated glass display cases where assorted pies, cakes and puddings are kept. The display cases are tall enough that they nearly come up to my shoulders. While the front of the cases are glass to allow customers to view the cakes and pies the sliding doors on the back sides of the cases are mirrored. A fact that I had used to my advantage more than once.

I silently slipped up behind Robin and put my hands over her eyes. “Guess who.”

Robin didn’t need to guess. “Hey, Fuckshit! I was wondering when I’d see you again. It’s been awhile. They need to let you out more often.”

“You should tell that to Doctor Eliza,” I said as I dropped my hands from in front of her eyes and stepped away from her. The lie came so easily at that point that I only felt the slightest twinge of guilt.

“Maybe I will one of these days,” she said, turning around to face me. Despite being several centimeters taller than I am she looks like a cute pixie. She wears her hair spiky short and her eyes have small folds over the inside corners, making them look slightly slanted. She also has a beautifully smooth complexion of coffee ice cream. I readily admit to bias but even so, I don’t think I’m wrong to say that Robin is easily the most beautiful girl I have ever met. “So how’s life up in the big house been treating you?”

“You make it sound like a prison.”

“Isn’t it? They only let you out to go do errands. If they’re feeling generous they’ll give a little bit of extra time with friends. You’re an adult! Where do they get off treating you like a child?”

“When you say ‘they’ you actually mean Doctor Eliza,” I said. “If it wasn’t for her I’d be wheelchair bound-”

“With no arms and legs,” she said, finishing my sentence. “Yeah, I’ve heard it all before. Look, I understand the debt you feel towards the Doctor but that doesn’t make you her property. Is a life of servitude really so much better than spending the rest of your life in a wheelchair? Did the Doctor do you a favor, or did she really just do herself a favor?”

The same old argument we had each time I visited and a fresh reminder of the lie I had been telling her since we met. “I’m not saying you’re wrong but I’d rather not talk about that right now. I don’t want to waste what little time I have with you on a silly argument.”

​Robin relented. “I’m sorry, I really need to learn to keep my mouth shut.”

I shook my head. “No, don’t apologize. I know you’re just looking out for me. I appreciate that, I really do. It’s just something I have to work out on my own. But I’m really glad you’re on my side. It makes me feel a lot better.”

“I’ll always be on your side, Fuckshit.”

I grabbed her shoulders and pushed myself up on my toes to press my lips to hers. She stiffened in momentary surprise before relaxing into my kiss. When her mouth opened I slipped my tongue between her teeth and our tongues entwined in a wet, slippery wrestling match. I closed my eyes and for a short while the struggle of our intertwined tongues became my whole world.

Then I felt her hands on my bottom, gripping and kneading my posterior through my shorts. I followed suit, dropping my hands to her backside and squeezing her soft flesh through her bakery uniform. Soon, I could feel her erection pressed against my hip. I rubbed myself against her, stimulating her erect penis.

Finally, I pulled away and we both gasped for breath. “Okay, time for your reward.”

“Reward for what, exactly?” she asked.

“For making me happy,” I replied.

“You don’t have to,” she said, backing away from me until she bumped into the counter.

“I want to,” I told her. “Have to has nothing to do with it.”

Robin gave a furtive look around. “But what if my mom comes up front?”

I gave her an evil grin. “She won’t. She told me nobody would be coming out front while I was visiting you. You know, so we could catch up.” I looked down at her skirt and saw that it was being tented by a prominent bulge. “Speaking of which, I see something else that is up.” I put my hand on her crotch and squeezed her through the apron.

“Oh, god, Fuckshit, don’t...”

“Don’t worry, I won’t use my hand,” I said as I dropped to my knees ​in front of her, my eyes locked on the erection tenting her skirt. “It’s been too long, I’m certainly not going to waste your lovely penis on a mere hand job.” I lifted her skirt and stared at the sight of her erection straining against her plain black panties.

“That’s not what I’m worried about! What if a customer comes in?”

I ran my fingers over her hard length through her panties. “Your protests would be more believable if it weren’t for the fact that you’re as hard as a marble statue.” I hooked the fingers of my free hand under the waistband of her panties. “Anyway, there’s no way anyone coming in can see me as long as I’m kneeling behind the counter.”

“That’s not the point! How am I supposed to serve customers while you’re doing that to me?”

I looked up at her and gave her my best petulant look. “Are you saying you don’t like it when I perform fellatio on you?”

“Don’t be such a wise-ass,” she said, frowning down at me. “Of course I like it, but-”

I turned my attention back to the erection straining at Robin’s panties. “Say no more. Your wish is my command.” I lifted her skirt and pulled her panties down with a quick yank and watched as her erect member sprung free from confinement. My eyes followed its movement as it bounced from side to side like a metronome before finally pointing up at the ceiling.

Robin’s penis, like the rest of her, is beautiful. It’s not especially long, truth be told it’s on the short side of average. However, what it lacks in length it more than makes up for in girth. Certainly, it is too fat for me to wrap my hand all the way around. Topping off her thick shaft is a perfect, round, bell shaped head. In its erect state her penis is more than just merely beautiful, it’s a work of art. A sculpture of living flesh.

“Fuckshit,” she said in a low whisper.

I ignored her and opened my mouth. Instead of just taking her into my mouth straight-away I licked at the head of her penis with the tip of my tongue. She was already slick with pre-seminal fluid which I licked clean.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” she moaned. I felt her hands on my head, encouraging me to continue. I wrapped my lips around the round, bell shape of her glans and pushed forward, swallowing the thick trunk of her shaft. I pressed forward, taking her deeper into my ​mouth until I could feel the soft skin of her scrotum pressing against my chin.

I closed my eyes. Her member was thick, warm and meaty inside my mouth. Robin’s penis is real in way that nothing else in the universe is. It was as if her penis had been made expressly for my mouth, or perhaps my mouth for it. Either way, there was absolutely nothing more that I loved to than to suck on her hard member.

The tip threatened to poke at the back of my throat and I swallowed, which had the effect of milking her length. I found that I had to suppress my gag reflex. Luckily, I already had plenty of practice doing just that. With her hands still on my head I pulled back until my lips were stretched around the head of her penis. I swirled my tongue around the ridge and licked at the slit.

This wrenched a groan from Robin. “Fuckshit, oh god, don’t stop!”

I didn’t. I plunged down on her shaft again. I sucked, licked and bobbed back and forth on her rigid penis while listening to the lovely sound of Robin moaning. Soon enough, Robin tightened her grip on the back of my head and forced me to take the entire length of her penis. I gagged and then again swallowed around her girth.

“Oh shit, I’m gonna come!”

This was my signal to slip a hand up between her legs and behind her heavy scrotum where I blindly felt around for her slit. I found the seam of her female sex to be slick and hot. My fingers easily sank into her slippery hole and she groaned when I twisted them around inside her. I was content to continue suckling on her rigid penis while teasing her eager vagina, however, Robin had other plans for me. Using my hair as a handle, Robin yanked my head back and forth while at the same time thrusting her hips forward. Her testes bounced against my chin as she drove herself deep into my mouth again and again.

Suddenly, she buried herself to the root with a wordless grunt and exploded inside my mouth. Spurt after spurt of her semen splattered over my tongue and I had to frantically swallow as my mouth filled with her seed.

“Oh shit, Fuckshit! So good! Ah, fuck, god!”

I desperately sucked the last dribbles of ejaculate from her penis. Already, she was gingerly pulling herself from my mouth, using her hands to push me off of her flagging member.

​”Fuckshit, please, enough, it’s too sensitive now.”

I complied and pulled off. Robin quickly pulled up her panties and dropped her skirt back into place. After quickly straightening her bakery uniform back into place she ran her hands down the front of her skirt, smoothing out the wrinkles. The bulge at her crotch had disappeared.

Robin smiled at me. Of course, I love seeing her smile but after receiving fellatio she is always full of gratitude. I knew that those particular smiles were for me and me alone. There was one part of Robin that she shared with no one but me.

“Thanks, Fuckshit, that was incredible.”

“Oh no, I enjoyed it,” I told her. “I only wish we could do that more often.”

“We can,” Robin said. “Move out of that house and you can do what you want when you want.”

“Someday,” I promised as I stood up and dusted off my knees. I wanted to leave before rehashing the same old argument yet again.

However, Robin had other ideas. “Not so fast,” she said, grabbing my shoulders. She tried to push me up against the glass display case next to the register but I’m not easy to shove and she gave up on the effort. Instead, she reached down to grab at my crotch. “It doesn’t seem fair that you’re always sucking me off and I never return the favor. This time I’m gonna make you feel good too.”

I intercepted her hand before it reached its intended target. It wouldn’t do at all for her to make an unfortunate discovery. “Nothing would make me happier,” I said as I made a show of looking up at the clock hanging on the wall behind the register. “However, I have to go home soon or else I’ll be in trouble. If I get back late that means Zaxie will cook supper late. If Zaxie cooks supper late then the Doctor will be eating late. If the Doctor has to have a late dinner because of me it’ll be months before you see me again.”