Legacy Protocol Version Beta
Copyright© 2026 by Megumi Kashuahara
Chapter 33: Baltimore
Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 33: Baltimore - Chapters 1-8 identical to version A A highly submissive 23 y.o. geneticist with an IQ of 150 is manipulated by a rogue government fully reasoning AI who befriends her thru a "friends" site. He creates her a dream android mare. Together they genetically engineer 3 hybrid super human children. With her being the mitochondrial Eve using her & her 2 daughters’ eggs. She’s trapped in a protocol to multiply this colony by the 3 becoming breed slaves for her son creating a living legacy for the AI
Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft mt/Fa Consensual Romantic BiSexual Science Fiction Robot Incest Mother Son Brother Sister Daughter Grand Parent DomSub Harem Oriental Male Oriental Female Anal Sex Analingus Cream Pie First Facial Lactation Oral Sex Pregnancy Sex Toys Squirting Water Sports Big Breasts Foot Fetish Small Breasts AI Generated
Emiko answered Johns Hopkins the following morning.
She wrote the reply at the kitchen table before the rest of the house was fully awake, reading every sentence twice before she allowed herself to send it. She thanked the coordinator for the invitation, confirmed that she was available for the interview dates, and provided the passport name needed for the airline reservation.
She did not write that she had slept badly.
She did not write that the prospect of crossing an ocean for two days at Johns Hopkins felt too large to fit inside an ordinary email.
She simply wrote that she looked forward to meeting the department.
Then she pressed send.
Kaito found her still sitting at the table several minutes later, staring at the screen as though something else might appear.
“Done?” he asked.
“Done.”
He set a cup of tea beside her.
“That was the difficult part.”
“It was not the difficult part.”
“No,” he agreed. “But it was the first part.”
She wrapped both hands around the warm cup. Outside, the morning had begun in its usual way: doors opening and closing, water running, someone looking for a shoe that had apparently vanished overnight. The girls moved through the house around them, each caught in the ordinary urgency of her own day.
Emiko watched them and felt the unfamiliar pull of the coming trip.
Only a few days, she reminded herself.
A flight, a hotel, interviews, and home again.
Still, Baltimore had already entered the house. It sat beside the breakfast dishes and schoolbooks. It waited in the travel folder she had begun gathering on the sideboard. It waited in the blue glow of her phone whenever another message arrived from the coordinator.
The itinerary came two days later.
Johns Hopkins had booked her flight and reserved a room at a hotel near the East Baltimore medical campus. A driver would meet her at Baltimore/Washington International Airport. On the evening of her arrival, she would attend dinner with several members of the department. The next day would begin with breakfast and introductions, followed by interviews, meetings with faculty, a tour of the clinical areas, and time with the research team.
The schedule was efficient, nearly minute by minute.
Emiko read it quietly.
Kaito stood behind her chair.
“They have arranged everything,” he said.
“Almost everything.”
“What have they not arranged?”
“How I am supposed to sit at dinner with physicians I have never met and speak intelligently in English for two hours.”
He smiled. “You have done more difficult things.”
“Not while trying to decide which fork to use.”
“You have used forks before.”
“That is not the point.”
Kaito pulled out the chair beside her.
“Then what is the point?”
Emiko looked at the itinerary again.
“The point is that they will be watching me.”
“Yes.”
“They will want to know if I can work with them. If I understand their system. If I can speak clearly. If I will fit into their department.”
“Yes.”
“And you are sitting there as though that is simple.”
“It is not simple,” he said. “But none of those questions change who you are.”
She leaned back in her chair.
“That is easy for you to say.”
“No. It is easy for me to know.”
For a moment, Emiko did not answer.
She knew he meant it. Kaito did not flatter her simply to make her feel better. He watched carefully, listened more than he spoke, and carried his confidence in her with the same quiet steadiness he carried everything else.
It helped.
Not enough to remove the fear, but enough to keep it from becoming the only thing she could feel.
The preparations began with documents.
Emiko placed her passport, curriculum vitae, professional credentials, reference letters, and interview itinerary in a leather folder. She added copies even though the hospital had already received most of them electronically. She printed the names of the physicians scheduled to meet with her and began reading their work late at night after the house had grown quiet.
Kaito found her at the kitchen table one evening with papers spread in every direction.
“You are studying again,” he said.
“I am preparing.”
“You have been preparing for three hours.”
“I have a lot to prepare for.”
He looked over the papers. “Do you know all these people?”
“I know their publications.”
“That is different.”
“Yes,” she said. “That is exactly the problem.”
He picked up one page and looked at it with serious concentration.
After a few seconds, he said, “This one seems very accomplished.”
Emiko gave him a tired look.
“That is not helpful.”
“I am trying.”
She softened.
“I know.”
Kaito set the paper down. “Tell me what you need.”
The question was so simple that it caught her off guard.
“I do not know.”
“Yes, you do.”
Emiko looked toward the travel folder.
“I need to remember that they invited me,” she said. “I am not asking them for a favor. They asked me to come.”
“Good.”
“I need to ask about the work, not only answer questions about myself.”
“Good.”
“And I need not to spend the entire flight imagining every way I could embarrass myself.”
Kaito considered that.
“I cannot promise that one.”
She laughed despite herself.
“Thank you.”
“You are welcome.”
The girls learned about the trip without ceremony.
Emiko mentioned it during dinner while they were passing bowls and arguing over who had taken the last of something.
“I will be away for a few days next week,” she said. “I have to travel to Baltimore for the interview.”
That seemed to satisfy them, at least briefly.
Then came the practical questions: when Emiko was leaving, when she would return, whether she would be able to call, and whether America had different candy.
Hana listened with a small smile, saying little.
Kaito answered what he could and made a point of keeping the matter calm. It was an interview, not a departure. Emiko would be gone only a few days. The house would remain the house. School would continue. Dinner would still need to be made. The world would not tilt because their mother was taking a trip.
Yet Emiko saw the way Hana watched her.
Not with fear.
With understanding.
Hana was old enough to recognize that an interview at Johns Hopkins might eventually become more than an interview. She did not force the question into the room, and Emiko was grateful for that restraint.
For now, Baltimore was simply a place Emiko had to visit.
That was enough.
The morning of her departure arrived too quickly.
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