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Ribofunk :: Филиппо Пол Ди
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Little Worker led Bull out into the corridor and up to Mister Michael's bedroom door, which was locked. However, Little Worker knew that code.
Inside, the Lyrical gynomorph was found taking a bath. Amid the welter of sudsy bubbles in the large sunken tub, only her delicate face and one knee were visible.
When the gynomorph saw Bull, her eyes widened and her nostrils flared. Bull developed an immediate erection.
"You are the one who wishes to have sex," said Bull.
"It is my nature."
"Mine also. Is it convenient to have sex in the bath?"
"Yes, it is."
Bull tore off his thong.
Little Worker left the pair of morphs together.
Mister Michael's wife was the first to return home, five hours after Little Worker had arranged the illicit introduction. Soon, she discovered Bull's absence and his current whereabouts. Little Worker watched from the corridor as Mister Michael's wife attempted in vain to separate the two morphs, who had ended up on the floor beside the bed, soaking the carpet with bathwater. Even striking at the pair with the sharp heel of her removed shoe failed to end the coupling. Eventually, special han-
dlers had to be summoned. They too failed to halt the couple's pistoning.
"It's no use, miz, they've developed a destructive feedback loop. We'll have to take them in to be put down."
"Just do it, then!" shouted Mister Michael's wife. "It's disgusting!"
"Yes, miz."
The morphs were loaded still interlocked and bucking into the back of a truck and driven off.
Little Worker was secretly happy.
But within days, Mister Michael's wife had procured a Stallion, while Mister Michael solaced himself with a Moon Moth.
***
Little Worker came awake instantly. She had not been sleeping well lately anyway. Her life had not been right since that long-ago morning of no toast and jelly. (One good thing about the Stallion was that he prefered oatmeal.) Mister Michael was always preoccupied and distant. At times Little Worker almost resented having to be in constant attendance on him. When she had such feelings, she became violently sick, for the bad thoughts conflicted with her lessons from the Training School. Then she had to remind herself that Mister Michael and his welfare were all her reasons for being.
And now there was noise from downstairs.
There should have been no noise from downstairs. It was the middle of the night. Oh, yes, once there had been
noise in the middle of the night from downstairs.
Little Worker led Bull out into the corridor and up to Mister Michael's bedroom door, which was locked. However, Little Worker knew that code.
Inside, the Lyrical gynomorph was found taking a bath. Amid the welter of sudsy bubbles in the large sunken tub, only her delicate face and one knee were visible.
When the gynomorph saw Bull, her eyes widened and her nostrils flared. Bull developed an immediate erection.
"You are the one who wishes to have sex," said Bull.
"It is my nature."
"Mine also. Is it convenient to have sex in the bath?"
"Yes, it is."
Bull tore off his thong.
Little Worker left the pair of morphs together.
Mister Michael's wife was the first to return home, five hours after Little Worker had arranged the illicit introduction. Soon, she discovered Bull's absence and his current whereabouts. Little Worker watched from the corridor as Mister Michael's wife attempted in vain to separate the two morphs, who had ended up on the floor beside the bed, soaking the carpet with bathwater. Even striking at the pair with the sharp heel of her removed shoe failed to end the coupling. Eventually, special han-
dlers had to be summoned. They too failed to halt the couple's pistoning.
"It's no use, miz, they've developed a destructive feedback loop. We'll have to take them in to be put down."
"Just do it, then!" shouted Mister Michael's wife. "It's disgusting!"
"Yes, miz."
The morphs were loaded still interlocked and bucking into the back of a truck and driven off.
Little Worker was secretly happy.
But within days, Mister Michael's wife had procured a Stallion, while Mister Michael solaced himself with a Moon Moth.
***
Little Worker came awake instantly. She had not been sleeping well lately anyway. Her life had not been right since that long-ago morning of no toast and jelly. (One good thing about the Stallion was that he prefered oatmeal.) Mister Michael was always preoccupied and distant. At times Little Worker almost resented having to be in constant attendance on him. When she had such feelings, she became violently sick, for the bad thoughts conflicted with her lessons from the Training School. Then she had to remind herself that Mister Michael and his welfare were all her reasons for being.
And now there was noise from downstairs.
There should have been no noise from downstairs. It was the middle of the night. Oh, yes, once there had been
noise in the middle of the night from downstairs.