Chapter 5: Learning the Mechanics

Five months earlier...

The second girl I brought into Invictus was Amelia. Small, waifish, and mousy, Amelia was not my usual type, but I saw her sprinting laps in a sports bra during gym one day and found myself powerfully drawn to her petite body, her tiny hands and feet. Her breasts were so small that they were hardly more than nipples and her ass was the size of two of my fists pressed together. Her athletic tininess, almost childlike, excited me in a somewhat disturbing way, so I set aside Miss Proud and chose Amelia as my new obsession.

The camera had gone through a few revisions since I’d snapped Miss Proud, so I’d hoped for a better copy with Amelia. The low quality snap of my teacher had caused her echo to slip into crazy town a few times since that first day, and I was getting tired of rebooting her and starting from scratch. With Amelia, I was shooting for a more long-term fuck slave. I approached her one day while she was eating lunch alone and introduced myself. She said that she already knew who I was, but then everyone knew who my father was. I was used to it.

I was able to buy her snap with a few smiles and a lie about working for the yearbook. She was a shy and awkward girl and seemed shocked that I’d even talk to her. When I told her that I wanted to take her picture to represent the track team, she’d blushed five shades of red. I captured her neuroportrait then and there, chest up, a goofy smile on her face and her tongue sticking out.

She was likely overjoyed that Deacon Lovejoy, heir to the empire, wanted to take HER picture. She probably thought about it for the rest of the week, quietly smiling at the remembered attention. Maybe she’d even harbored some small hope that I was thinking of asking her out, but I’ll never know, because from then on, I only had eyes for her echo. I never spoke to the real Amelia again.

The Neurocamera - patent pending - used lenses, lasers, and proprietary infrared and x-ray technologies to map a subject’s brainstem, but that didn’t mean that normal pictures, taken with normal cameras, weren’t also useful in enhancing an echo. The neuroportrait was the necessary starting framework, but our technicians could then apply facial maps to existing photos in order to bring about more superficial “clarity” in the echo. When creating Amelia’s echo, I raided her Facebook page with this in mind. It was standard practice for our lookalike line of Lovedolls - ones that looked like specific people, but which were all running the stock Lovedoll personality.

She desperately accepted my friend request within a few minutes, and then I downloaded every picture she had, which sadly wasn’t more than a handful, as she was introverted and shy. I also rubbed one out to one particular photo, one of her wearing a one-piece bathing suit splashing around with some relatives at the beach. Her mouth was full of braces and she looked joyous, like a kid without a care in the world. I never managed to bring that same smile to the lips of her echo, but I did manage to make her scream.

“Hrrrrmmmmphh.”

Screams were commonplace in the Patron’s Suite at the Slow Poke Kelley but not all of those screams were of passion. Miss Proud’s were, as were the cries of those experienced ladies who were more digital in nature. But with Amelia, I got screams, or rather gags, of a different flavor.

“Heeeeerrrngggh!”

I tightened my grip around Amelia’s waist as I violently fucked her from behind, my hips beating time against her tight muscular buttocks. It was Amelia’s first time, and like Miss Proud, she’d spurned my initial advances. I didn’t alter her to make her compliant, however. I’d simply hogtied her and shoved a ball gag into her mouth. This wasn’t for my pleasure, though, because I’ve already said that I’m no rapist. This was for science.

I’d suspected that Miss Proud’s bouts of insanity were caused by my liberal alterations to her personality, so I wanted to keep Amelia’s as clean as possible and note the differences. This did mean that she fought against me, but she wasn’t nearly a match in strength. Besides, I had Miss Proud to help me hold her down.

“Sssshhhhh,” she cooed, holding Amelia’s sobbing face flat against the mattress. “It’s so much better once you submit to him.” I smiled viciously and pounded away, my cock feeling hot, warm, and electric, slipping into and out of Amelia’s pussy like oiled lightning.

I wasn’t doing this for fun, mind you, as I’m NOT a rapist, but it was important to nail down the cause of Miss Proud’s hysteria. That being said, Amelia’s pussy was viselike and dripping and despite her screams of protest, or perhaps because of them, I came again and again and again, until her screams died down into muffled sobs. I nutted in her one last time, dizzy with pleasure, and let her petite, exhausted frame collapse against the mattress.

As Miss Proud dutifully began to lick my penis clean, I frowned at Amelia. While she hadn’t gone insane, she hadn’t been much fun either. While I’d admit to a surge of adrenaline when initially penetrating her, I’d found that I enjoyed a slutty willing Vicky far more than an unwilling and resistant Amelia. But how could I make Amelia more receptive and vulgar without the forcible reprogramming that kept corrupting Miss Proud? Good old-fashioned positive reinforcement proved to be the answer. We humans are such simple creatures.

People have sex because it feels good. It only made sense that they’d want to have it even more if it felt ten times better. How about fifty times better? Hell, how about a hundred? Could a woman still protest so much when their pussy’s orgasming like a machine gun? And more, how could someone not want to experience that same pleasure again? How could someone not want to experience that pleasure as often as physically possible?

We finally settled on a multiplier of 17, no more, no less. When sex was seveneteen times as enjoyable, then even Amelia’s protests turned into cries of pleasure, but it wasn’t so overwhelming as to knock her unconscious every time she came, which would have been inconvenient as it occurred rather frequently thereafter. We also observed that multipliers past fifty resulted in the same cracked madness that the process was trying to circumvent, so we scaled it back to something wonderfully enjoyable and yet still mentally bearable over time. Seventeen was the sweet spot, and believe me, seventeen was a lot.

When Tiana first urged my face towards her lovebox, I wasn’t thrilled about having to eat her out. I’d only ever gone down on one girl in real life, and to be literal, I found the process distasteful. As my lips met hers, however, a small tendril of pleasure slithered down my spine. I inhaled deep of her heady scent, and gasped at the warm comforting euphoria that began to seep into my limbs and surround me like a blanket.

Within a moment, my licks were no longer tentative but wanton, and I lapped at her juices like a winded dog, savoring every last drop. She squirmed against me, but I held her in place by the ass, kneading the cheeks and keeping an air-tight seal against her muffin. She had a taut athletic figure, and her ass was supple and firm, like two ripe oranges. It reminded me an awful lot of Amelia’s ass, but as soon as her innocent face popped into my head, even the 17x pleasure of Tiana’s snatch was soured. The recollection of how I’d treated her assaulted my notions of decency and I almost became sick, revolted with myself.

“Jesus Fucking Christ,” I thought. “I’m nothing but a rapist.”

Looking back at the situation now, this conclusion seemed so obvious. I couldn’t even figure out how I’d justified my actions in the name of science or testing. I’d just been making excuses to fuck my schoolmates against their will, and that is about as low as a person can sink. Good Lord, how had I been blind to this, before? It was like looking into a mirror and seeing an evil version of yourself doing horrible things, and then it hit me. Not a mirror ... a window...

The source. The photo Deacon had used to create Zoe and myself.

The snap that I’d been generated from had only captured my reflection on the glass window behind Zoe, resulting in a blurry and incomplete snap. The reason I was feeling so strange is because I was blurry and incomplete. I wasn’t really Deacon Lovejoy. Part of me was - whatever portion of Deacon that the camera managed to capture - but there was something missing as well, something sick and twisted that somehow made the real Deacon blind to the suffering he was causing.

And with that realization came another. If I wasn’t really Deacon Lovejoy, then who was I? If I’d only inherited half of Deacon’s personality, where’d the rest come from? I knew that in the event of a partial capture, the gaps in the personality structure were automatically patched from the company templates, which meant that ... Oh God...

I blinked and momentarily detached myself from Tiana’s privates. “I’m a goddamn Lovedoll,” I thought, and suddenly everything made sense. While female Lovedolls were created to resemble a male’s super-freak sex fantasy, male Lovedolls typified the ideal female fantasy - a powerful, vigorous lover, but a caring and attentive one as well. That’s why I’d been so worried about Zoe: Because half of my personality was some namby-pamby over-sensitive emotional little bitch. Zoe was over there dutifully slobbering over some horse cock, and I was sitting here worried about her feelings.

I idly became aware that Tiana’s grip on my hair had tightened, and that she was thrusting her mound against my lips in rhythm to her breathing. I could also feel her muscles contracting against my efforts as she rolled her lower abs against me, shuddering from the friction of my tongue. I may have had little practical experience in orally pleasing a girl, but I was also effectively fifty-percent dildo. Getting girls off was all my better half did.

Tiana made a little noise - a satisfied grunt is all - but then it was as if she melted in my hands. Her ass cheeks trembled in my grip, and her pussy started to vibrate, such was the intensity of my masterwork tongue-play. And as her juices started to gush, my own pleasure in the act increased, and I moaned into her box just as she crescendoed. Her legs started to shake and so I took the opportunity to take control, guiding her to her back on the furs and animal pelts beside me. Once she was down, I buried my face between her legs anew. She somehow tasted like everything I’d ever loved and I just couldn’t get enough.

Across the room, I could see that Zoe was similarly employed for her master, corkscrewing his elephantine member with both hands and suckling sweetly upon the tip, her expression nearly as rapturous as his. Her neuroportrait was undoubtedly more accurate than mine, but at least some part of her was a Lovedoll patch-job too, so her mouth and hands moved with a grace and skill undeserved and unheard of in a girl so young and inexperienced. The Patron was swooning from her efforts.

“My stars, girl,” he moaned. “Summerlanders suckle sweeter than I remember.” He brushed his thumb across Zoe’s temple, causing her to look up at him with big emerald eyes. She slowly descended until his big cockhead tickled the back of her throat. “I like this girl,” he growled through clenched teeth. I think I may have to keep you. Tiana? How is yours?”

“It has yet to be seen,” Tiana said. She writhed erotically on the furs, nude and shiny with oils, letting her hands glide across her stomach, her breasts, brushing her nipples while I lapped at her nethers. “His lips are as soft as any maiden’s, but I wonder if he can please me as a man does.” She turned her crimson gaze to me. “Stand up, whore of Count Douchebag, and remove your clothes. I would have a look at your cock, now.”

I was in a daze as I came to my feet, drunk off of Tiana’s sex, my fingers and toes tingling with joy. She panted on the floor as I pulled my codpiece down, and began to finger her clit in earnest. As the odd garment fell around my ankles, her blood-red eyes sparkled, but I was also conscious of another set of eyes, also checking me out. Zoe’s big green eyes were locked onto my cock as assuredly as my eyes were locked onto hers, even as she sucked upon the slick shaft of someone else.

I took hold of my manhood as I gazed at Zoe and slowly drew the foreskin up and over the head and down again. The pleasure was indescribable, but I got even more of a rush when Zoe’s eyes rose to lock onto mine. The connection was instant and electric and it took most of my will power not to run across the room and claim her for myself. Instead, I stroked myself while she watched me, and turned back to the oiled up concubine at my feet. Zoe didn’t turn back to the Patron, though. Her eyes stayed locked onto me until the Patron noticed and grew wroth with her.

“What are you looking at, Sweet, when your whole world is right in front of you? Am I not man enough for you? Have I not given you enough to look at?” Zoe started at his angry tone and turned back, but the Patron was incensed. He grabbed her by the hair and began to drag her across the room toward some wine casks. “I’ve had enough of your mouth besides. Let’s see if you’re as sweet between the legs as you are between the lips.” He reached the barrels and practically tossed Zoe against them, bending her across one at the waist and not being gentle about it.

“Manwhore!” Tiana yelled, “Don’t make me wait! I’ll have your cock in me or you’ll have my blade in your gut. Get on with it!” I turned away from Zoe long enough to drop to my knees and maneuver between Tiana’s glistening thighs. I grabbed one in each hand and spread them wide, holding them to the ground at opposite right angles. Her cleft smiled between, a thin dribble of excitement making the lips shine.

“Yes, Mistress.”

I leaned forward and pushed inside of her, but even as she gasped, I raised my eyes past her to see Zoe still staring at me with frightened eyes. She was bent over an upright barrel that was of a height such that her toes were forced to scrabble for purchase. It was all she could do to hold onto the iron banding as the Patron stepped up behind her. The wooden floorboards clunked as he pulled off her steel panties and tossed them to the floor.

I could hear him slapping his fat wet cock across each of her asscheeks in turn, and then he paused for a moment of concentration as he lined up his trajectory and shoved. I winced, hoping that it didn’t hurt as bad as it looked, and then marveled to see Zoe’s eyes move from frightened - to surprised - to pained - and then to euphoric all in the span of a few seconds. Her cry was an unusual thing, a punctuated yelp of distress that dropped and then rose again, signifying a disparate set of warring emotions.

But even as her face betrayed the truth, I could feel it myself as I slipped into the warm comforting confines of Tiana’s pussy. Despite having had more sex in the past three months than most people do in their whole lives, none of it had ever come anywhere close to feeling this good. Tiana’s pussy was the stuff of heaven, the stuff of dreams and sagas and pleasures untold. It was a pussy to fight wars over; a pussy to write songs about. In the time it took to sink entirely inside of her, I gained a fortune and lost it, empires waxed and waned, and whole civilizations rose from the dust before collapsing back into that from whence they came. I think I may have started to cry. And all the while, Zoe was screaming.

She wasn’t screaming like Amelia screamed. She was screaming like a woman so afflicted with joy that it was rushing out of her mouth like a waterfall.

The Patron’s muscles stood erect across his chest as he held Zoe around the waist, sawing his penis through her legs with a frenetic desperation that I could feel as much as see. The barrel that she was bent over seemed full of liquid, but it still groaned and wobbled with each concussive impact, until her metal top jostled free of her breasts to fall and hang around her waist, clinking softly against the barrel. The Patron grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked, her body arching backward, still jiggling from the incessant pounding.

And as I watched my obsession get fucked, I vented my lusts upon the lean hard body of Tiana, who responded with a surprising affection by licking and kissing me around the neck and holding me closely overtop of her. I could feel our chests and bellies slide against one another as I thrusted, and she rolled her hips and abs back against me, our sex a union of writhing slippery flesh quite different from the violent fucking that the Patron employed.