Shadowrun 2057: A New Kind of Milk Run (Pazzo & Lala)

[Lala]

Seattle had dozens of Bunraku parlors scattered throughout the city like festering tumors, usually tucked far out of sight of the looming corporate towers that dominated the skyline. One generally had to trek off the main strip, into claustrophobic mazes of alleys where the red neon of explicit signs reflected in the puddles like blood. Most of them were the standard seedy dens of iniquity, where a man with enough Nuyen in his account could get a doll to do almost anything he desired. There were, however, a few places with extraordinary offerings. Where the dolls’ chips, cybernetics, and even magic transformed them to something so rare and special that even the occasional megacorp bigwig fell prey to their lure.

The Boukyaku Milk Bar was the most well known of these places.

A notorious and luxe parlor, it hunched at the end of an L-shaped alley, beckoning through the dark with the flashing sign out front. A pair of voluptuous neon breasts indicated the wares awaiting inside. The dolls were known not just for the otherworldly beauty common to all Bunraku, but for their special modifications that always made a night at Boukyaku one to remember.

The interior was uncommonly lush for one of these places. The instant a man walked inside he would find himself transported from the dank, wet grit of the city to an almost ethereal buffet of dangerously endowed angels dancing in a sleek and chic club. The back, of course, held any number of private rooms where one could buy a milkdance or more from the dolls, but the front was a haven of gleaming black marble and cool blue lighting.

Several alcoves lined the walls, small spaces packed with leather booths where visitors could drink by themselves or conduct business under the relative shroud of dimness away from the stage. The proprietor knew well that the parlor was often a place for secret dealings among shadowrunners and their clients. They usually still ordered a drink, and sometimes even bought one of his girls, so he wasn’t put out by it.

Fragrant blue clouds of opium smoke swept through the parlor, giving everything a dreamlike haze with halos around the lights over the stage. The stage itself was a long runway that extended halfway across the bar, with three poles along its length and small round tables flanked with deep armchairs for patrons to lounge in. Friday nights were always packed and this one was no exception. It was standing room only next to the stage, where several dolls bounced and pranced and flung themselves around their poles holding on only by the crook of their knees.

And at the front was Minxy, always Minxy.

She was well known throughout the city, her name recognizable even to those who would never dare set foot in a Bunraku parlor. Her beauty was exquisite, so much so that her face captured men’s glances just as much as her ample chest. And it was ample.

The pink and black snakeskin microbikini she wore barely contained huge globes that seemed to defy gravity as they jiggled during her dance to the pulsing beat of electronica. Round, firm flesh bulged on either side of the scant top that fairly only covered her jutting nipples, so tight that the hard outlines of piercings were obvious even through the material. The treatment of her nethers was much the same, with a barely-there G-string displaying the lush swell of a plump ass that bounced with each step she took. Despite her unbelievable assets, she was quite small in the middle, with an exaggerated hourglass shape thanks to obvious modification.

Eyes followed her everywhere. Men licked their lips and checked their Nuyen balances. A night with Minxy...the dream.

Her legs were supple and well-formed, with thigh-high fencenet stockings clinging to every curve, terminating in pink and black patent stripper boots with dangerously sharp stiletto heels. The pink matched her hair, a cute bright bob that brushed at her pointed chin and the heart tattoo on her neck, with straight bangs across her forehead. Pointed ears peeked out from under those silken locks, and pale blue eyes raked hungrily over the night’s eager customers. Her breasts were already aching and engorged.

A man at one of the side tables beckoned her and she slid away from the pole she had been grinding between her hefty chest and bounced over toward him. He licked his lips, gripping the arms of the chair he sat in with an obvious bulge raising in his trousers. “You...you look like a doll,” he rasped in a lust-addled tone.

Minxy’s plump, red-lacquered lips parted in a smile; the lights of the club reflected off the almost mirror-like shine of her lipstick. With her pale white flesh, two circles of pink blush on her cheeks, and winged eyeliner on her delicate little features, she certainly did look the part. “That’s the idea, love,” she murmured back to him, leaning over his chair to put her chest at eye level and shimmying her shoulders back and forth to make those globes jiggle. “Care to buy something tonight?”

The man let out an almost animal sound and grabbed for her top, pulling down one side and coming a blink away from latching his mouth around one of those pierced nipples. Minxy kicked out with her stiletto, hard enough to stab into his shoulder as she sent the chair cascading backwards. Security was quick to detain him; they always had their eyes on Minxy, since a lot of customers tried to steal free service from their star doll.

She wiped the blood off her stiletto with a cocktail napkin, still looking placid as can be. Her personafix chip ensured that she was generally docile and amenable to anything asked of her by paying customers, though it allowed her to react to threats such as this. Only after she had cleaned her boot did she pull the side of her bikini back up over her exposed nipple. A little free peek would only serve to boost her sales tonight.

It was already working. Across the noisy parlor, hands flicked to beckon her over. Some yelled out the amount of Nuyen they were willing to part with for time with the voluptuous doll. Minxy pressed her lips together, smacking the slick shiny lipstick. Who to choose? Her chip still allowed her some autonomy, trusting her experience to pick from the eager patrons who she might give a milkdance tonight.

She was about to head toward a man who called out an ungodly amount of Nuyen for some time with her. That was when she saw him. Hunkered in one of the shadowy booths at the periphery. Something drew her to the man, though she could not for the life of her imagine why she had glanced at him across all the others vying for her attention. The personafix chip in her head did its job, and she flitted across the room to speak to that other customer about what he wanted, forgetting the man for now.

 

[Pazzo]

From the outside, the 20 some odd year old GMC Banshee looked akin to large rusted out short bus from the mid 1980s, that could fly. It had a clunky sound to its left engine pod, as it trailed a light line of oily black smoke. Somewhere on its right wing, something was loose and rattled incessantly, as it clumsily lumbered through the night sky high over the Redmond Barrens. It sailed towards the well lit downtown area of the Seattle Proper, dipping its right wing repeatedly, as if its ailerons and leveling computer were having trouble functioning.

On the inside, the old VTOL looked no better, what with its UV faded and cracked instrument control panel, with its multiple older LCD type screens scattered across its surface, some of them even flickering, rather than being the current holographic types. The seats were well worn, with some stuffing poking out of some of the more black gorilla taped areas. The floor was littered with large empty bags of chili flavored soy crisps, crumpled empty plastic containers labeled "Krispy Creme". There was of course even a large battered trashcan in the lower right of the rear cargo bay, but it was more than full of what looked like empty styrofoam big gulp drink containers.

The vehicle appeared to be, for all intents and purposes, an obsolete, rusted out piece of shit. The kind that only a poor and desperate bastard might pilot, trying to eke out a living by making a few delivery runs of boring, legals cargo. Certainly nothing that any self respecting police officer or security official would stop to search. Most of the good, self respecting smugglers went for sleek, high performance type vehicles of the latest make and model, with military grade armor, and heavy weapons. They often had money and understood the right bribe paid here meant that the police over there would look the other way. But not this one. It was literally a piece of junk that could afford to be ignored.

That was of course intentional, all of it a carefully calculated ruse. Underneath all of the rusted panels, was a high grade hand-machined titanium-alloy air frame, meeting or even exceeding the current military specifications. The overflowing trashcan was actually a tank full of old oil, that was casually pumped into the afterburner of the left engine, making it appear as if it had lost an oil seal. The rattling of the right wing was little more than an old key-chain affixed to a metal loop welded to the leading edge of its winglet. And the refuse that appeared to be so carelessly strewed about the floor of the cab? That was the best part. Each and every "empty" bag or box was carefully arranged to that exact spot, with a different weapon or ammo cache hidden inside of it.

Then of course there was the issue of the erratic flying pattern. That was of course done on purpose by what was arguably one of the most skilled and sought after vehicle riggers on the west coast. He was only known as "Alex". Some said he was a troll of great build and height, piloting a large and heavily armed Sikorsky CH-49. Other rumors still insisted that he was an elf, sharp and deadly, piloting a sleek and nimble AMC Nightwisper. The reality of course was a far cry from the legend, and the "boring" human rigger just let it stay that way. The authorities would never suspect his beloved "RATT" to be anything the great Alex would be caught dead in. What appeared to be junk was actually a deadly, finely tuned machine that could easily out perform most, if not all, custom jobs.

Today however, the normally handsome pilot wore a look of concern. His long, worn yet still stylish leather coat creaked as he brought one of his hands up to run through his mid length black hair, as thoughts shot through his mind far faster than most mortal beings, and possibly even a few supernatural, could possibly comprehend. Fiber optic cables ran from the back of his head, and down the back of his seat to snake across the floor, and up into his dashboard. The flight controls bobbed and ebbed in response to his thoughts, as he considered what he had gotten himself into.

About twenty minutes ago, he had received an encrypted message from his fixer. That in itself was not an issue, as that was done almost weekly, with offers of lucrative, well vetted jobs.
A shadowrunner was careful when he or she used the word "friend", as things such as misplaced trust would get you captured, killed, or even worse. Sharon however, was likely the closest thing to a true friend the rigger ever had. Her offers had never steered him wrong, and the runs offered by her "Johnsons" had never gone wrong. he had never met her in person, and had never even seen her actual face, yet in the ten years he had known her, he had grown to trust her suggestions.

This message from her however was different. "Alex. I need a favor. Meet me at the Boukyaku Milk Bar in two hours. Come alone, but bring one of your VTOLs, something inconspicuous."

It sounded urgent, and Alex felt this irresistible pull, like he couldn't say no. To finally put a face to her voice, if it was hers, was an irresistible thing.
Alex's eyes were closed, as he relaxed in his well worn chair, but his mind was well aware of everything outside of the craft, with his brain being plugged in directly to the RATT's sensory suite. The skies were relatively clear tonight, with no moon showing, making the neon lit skyline even more bold. Alex saw his destination, and circled the area around once. He was not keen however on its location. The chosen venue was nestled at the very end of a narrow L shaped alleyway, dark and filthy, even as alleys go. The whole thing seemed "Wrong". He would never be able to land in that Alley. At best, he would be able to land in an empty parking lot about a block away.

Dangerous, and smelled like a setup. And yet, he felt the need to continue. The wet pavement lit up brightly with his LED landing lights ablaze, as dust and litter swirled around as his maneuvering jets brought his craft down to what appeared to be a clumsy landing. The area across the street however, was far from empty. People dressed in almost every style imaginable seemed to be walking in and out of the narrow space. The rigger unhooked his interface, and dug around inside one of his empty potato chip bags. From it, he drew an unassuming Fichetti Light automatic pistol, and hid it in the waistband of his jeans, in the small of his back.

He activated his security system, and opened the hatch, stepping out into the Seattle night. The walk to the alleyway seemed easy enough, all he had to do was cross the street. He stopped on the sidewalk however, as his enhanced ears picked up a faint whirring. He drew down his sunglasses, to reveal a heavily cybered pair of eyes. Their sclera was jet black, with faintly glowing blue irises, like the shutter of an old style camera. They immediately detected an older model quad copter type drone, outfitted with cameras. Little more than a basic security model. His eyes were able to see its transmission waves, and so he mentally willed his neural computer to receive and decode them. The drone itself was one of three, and was making a rotating sweep of the area. Individuals were situated along the rooftops, overlooking the area, all of them fairly well hidden, if not marked by the IFF of the drones. All of them armed with what looked like standard issue combat rifles. Their radio traffic was little more than idle conversations about current sports events. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just bored security guards going about their business.

Alex just shrugged, and continued on his way, stepping into the alleyway. strategically placed LED lights along the lower walls lit the way. Alex could of course tell the difference between a real mess, and an intentional one. This alley was actually immaculate, but meant to appear filthy. It was part of the thrill, for the well to do to partake and slum it in such a place, and so the owners did their best to provide. It was quite ingenious he thought.

His eyes rose a little as he saw the big neon signage outside, depicting arguably the most perfect set of breasts he had ever seen. They seemed a little excessive, but then again, everyone had their kicks. He was more interested in finally meeting his fixer. If an ambush was to be set up, it wouldn't be here. Alex could then hear a new song starting from inside, its muffled thumping distorted by the heavy wooden entry door.


View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eEteJhp-Ezs


The receiving area was a grand affair, with a long, waist-high glass case set up, filled with T Shirts and other memorabilia. On the back wall was a long saltwater fish-tank, with many exotic species swimming around. Behind the desk were two people, and the could not have been on more opposite sides of the spectrum.

Trolls were always big, but this one was beyond huge, bordering more on the neighborhood of a small giant. His tusks were pearly white, and sharpened to look as intimidating as possible. He was clad in a custom fitter suit, with his treelike arms folded across a chest that was so wide a movie could be shown upon it. To his right, barely coming up to his abdomen, was a gorgeous young woman in a cute, revealing black and white style cow costume. Her breasts of course were quite large. She absently smiled at Alex, as what he assumed was the bouncer, gave him the stereotypical look that said "There will be no trouble here, unless you bring it with you".

The rigger just nodded in response, and flashed his cred stick to the busty hostess. The extravagant cover charge was deducted, as the girl murmured out a statement of thanks.

The main area of the Milk bar looked like something out of a cheesy college style pornographic tri-vid program. Each and every one of the girls here had an excessive pair of lovely breasts, a bouncy ass, and a beautiful face, all of which were barely covered by thin slivers of fabric. Alex felt his pants grow a size or two smaller than they were when he had entered. He just had time to dodge to the side, as two burly security guards pulled a whimpering man in the opposite direction, bleeding profusely from his shoulder. He watched as the shoved him out of a hidden doorway, just as a melodious voice came to his ears from somewhere behind him. "Look at you, right on time as always."

Alex turned around to see an impressive looking woman, about in her mid forties, and beautiful in a very rich milfy type way. If not for the tasteful sweater she was clad in, one might mistake her for one of the girls in the area. Even her glasses were sexy. Alex was about to open his mouth to say something, but suddenly, the other patrons started to yell out prices at someone behind the gorgeous, librarian like woman in front of him. Her face took a more assertive look, as she leaned in close, her lips a mere hair away from his ear. "I have a table over here." She whispered.

The rigger followed her as she walked, lost in thought. This was indeed his favorite fixer, looking down at her shapely ass, as it swayed back and forth. She sat in the shadowy booth, as Alex took the seat across from her. He took a moment to glance back at the stage, to see a very beautiful pink haired woman on stage. Her eyes met with his for just a moment, and he felt a twinge at the back of his neck, like he recognized her... His mind raced, as he sifted through memories. It took a few seconds, but then he remembered. A few years ago he had been hired to transport a team of runners into an Aztech research facility. This one girl with pink hair, and a heart tattoo on her neck had been with them. The next day he was sent to extract them, but the girl was nowhere to be seen. As always, he asked no questions, collected his pay, and disappeared. The woman on stage looked almost exactly like her, but with shorter hair, and a more ample bust and rear.

The rigger turned back to Sharon, and opened his mouth, about to say something, only to be cut off again. "This favor I have to ask of you..." The woman started in a very serious tone, as she reached out and gripped his hand, pressing something into it. "...place the winning bid on Minxy. Take her into the back, and make her cum." She said in direct, no uncertain terms. Alex's mind took on a state of shock, mixed with a slight eagerness he was ashamed to admit. The sexy brunette stood up, and brought her lips close to his ear again, as he hand wandered inside of his jacket. "There is no time to explain. Once the guards are distracted, take her out of the doorway that is back there..." She whispered, as she then stood up, and seemingly disappeared into the crowd. He never noticed her lift the keys to his vehicle.

Dumbfounded, fighting with his better sense of propriety, and the lust usually only found in the heart of a 19 year old soldier, Alex looked down into his hand, and saw a platinum limit credstick. He glanced in the direction of where Sharon had just left, only to see the drop dead sexy milkmaid start trotting off along the stage, bouncing along the way to a rather corpulent looking man, balding, and with a scrubby mustache, grinning at her. "Twenty thousand!" He roared out. Alex's eyes narrowed. He had many questions as to the why of this operation, but Sharon seemed to be in a hurry. For all he knew, and owed favor from that woman was likely worth a kings ransom. But being asked to make a pornstarlet quality woman orgasm? that was just icing...

The rigger stood up, and dusted off the front of his shirt, his muscular chest bulging a little, as he walked to the stage, wearing his best alpha male persona. Somehow, he pulled it off. People stepped out of his way respectfully. He held his new credstick up, and called out "I would like a milk dance please." He murmured out loud, his voice low and deep. "I have fifty thousand nuyen here..." He said to Minxy, tapping the device in his hands where she could see.

 

[Lala]

Minxy certainly made quite the show of something as mundane as walking across the room. Though she didn’t just walk. She strutted expertly in those platform stilettos, letting each step swing her ample hips side to side like a hypnotic metronome, also making each ass cheek alternately bounce up and down in a carefully curated stride.

Just because one man was calling out big numbers didn’t mean another wasn’t waiting in the wings. There was always time to reel in bigger fish. And Mr. Jin, the proprietor, loved it when Minxy got a big fish on the line. No one got a taste of her and walked away. They were almost always repeat customers after that.

And this hirsute, large man was waving his cred sticks and screaming to be heard over the din, his face so red she worried he’d have a heart attack before they even got to have their fun. She placed her hands beneath her bubble breasts as she walked, giving them a hard jiggle and blowing kisses at the other patrons.

Business had been booming since the advent of the milkmaid augment. Before then, such things were relegated to the darkest corners of the web, talked about in hushed tones, and often met with a wrinkled nose and look of scorn from those outside the fetish industry. But now, the augment allowed any girl -- or even boy if they so chose -- to produce copious amounts of milk daily, and even more under certain conditions. The only downside was that there wasn’t really a way to turn off production, so augmented tits got very hard and painful if left unattended for too long.

Of course, it wasn’t real milk, in the biologic sense, or even something like cow’s milk that had been banned for at least twenty years now. But a milkmaid augment had opened a lot of new doors for both suppliers and buyers. And every formula was different. Some convenience stores even sold it right on the shelves next to the energy drinks and colas, though some people had been pushing for a while now to have it classified as a drug. There were differing effects of ingesting the product of a milkmaid, depending on the type of augment implanted, but most usually defaulted to something that contained a very potent aphrodisiac.

And of course, as soon as something like that exists, it’ll be rerouted to the sex industry. So Boukyaku was one of six milkmaid parlors in Seattle alone, a place for those with enough cash to get their kicks suckling directly from the oversized teats of impossibly beautiful dolls. Most of the girls had other augments in addition to the milkmaid mod, including enlargement and sensitivity increases to serve their customers well, along with strengthened muscles over and around the breasts to give them that gravity-defying appearance.

Which Minxy’s most certainly had.

Her glossy red lips parted as she moved to slide onto the lap of the high-rolling customer. Though just as she did, another voice rang above the crowd. Everyone stopped chattering for a moment.

Fifty thousand?

That was certainly a record for her, and possibly any other milkmaid in Seattle. Mr. Jin looked like he was about to fall over, his fingers digging into the countertop as he waved his bowler hat frantically for her to go to the other bidder.

The man who had been outbid grumbled under his breath a bit, stashing his cred stick back into his tented pants and angrily heading to entreat one of the other girls. She wasn’t Minxy, but she would have to do, because he clearly didn’t have enough for Boukyaku’s star.

Minxy strode now toward the winning bidder with her trademark walk, primping her little pink bob. Her stride hitched just a moment when she saw it was the handsome man from earlier who had caught her eye, though she still wasn’t quite sure why. She was certain she had not seen him before, and her life was spent at the Bunraku parlor. Rarely did Mr. Jin let her leave, worried perhaps about poachers looking to run off with his best milkmaid.

When the elven milkmaid got to the man standing near the stage, she smiled and bent over to let her large tits jiggle right in front of his face. She smelled like vanilla and sugar. Like cookies. A purposeful choice, since scent was such a strong sense and a lot of people still associated milk with cookies.

“A milkdance? That’s what you want, is it?” she breathed, pinching her nipples through the material of her bikini that was barely holding on so he could see the hard outlines along with her piercings. Her eyes cut over to Mr. Jin and he gave her a short nod. “Well, you’re in luck...the VIP room is open,” she said, holding out her hand to him and waiting for him to lace his fingers with hers so she could lead him to the sensual utopia of a milkroom.

She walked ahead of him as they headed out of the main room. The crowd parted, almost all of the men with jealousy alight in their eyes. The other milkmaids seemed touched by it a bit as well, eyeing the handsome client who was going to help Minxy with her pains. Her perfect ass bounced up and down as she walked ahead of him, tempting with each step.

The thumping music of the main room faded as they went through another door that led to the private rooms in back. Dim blue lighting on either side of the hallway lit the long, narrow space. Doors lined both sides, some with a digital OCCUPIED sign flashing on the front. They were soundproof, for the most part, though outside some of them one could still hear a faint mechanical whir and the hint of moaning.

Minxy led him down the hall, to the very end. The door said VIP on the front. She smiled, licking those slick, glossy lips, and led her client inside.

The VIP room was very nicely appointed, with everything inside it a pure white. A thick fur rug covered the ground, and there was a comfortable cuddle lounger in the center of the room. At the back, a small bar was fully stocked with anything one might need. Low, soft lighting filled the room, along with gentle ambient music.

A large white cabinet completely dominated one wall. It was shut currently, but contained nearly every possible toy and tool one might require, along with a variety of lubricants. And off to the side was a portable milker that could be used to finish the job once a client had had his fill, or for those who liked to take advantage of the effect coitus had on production and take home their very own freshly-bottled souvenir.

Minxy released the man’s hand. She didn’t even know his name yet, and some preferred not to give one at all. But as soon as the door had shut and the sign switched to OCCUPIED, she reached around behind her to untie her bikini top and let it fall away from those bouncy breasts. Of course, there was not much left to reveal that wasn’t already on display, but now he could see her hard nipples jutting out like solid rocks, firmed up around big silver bars piercing them. She was in dire need of servicing, her breasts hard and aching, so when she gave them a little squeeze, she moaned from the pleasure. A small translucent droplet of liquid beaded up on each nipple.

“Well, baby, how ‘bout that milkdance?” she said, leading him backward so he could sit on the cuddle lounger while she offered her swollen tits to his mouth.

 

[Pazzo]

As her silky fingers touched his skin, multiple warning displays went off on his cybernetic retinas, with holographic red stop signs floating in front of his face that only he could see. Minxy's cyber-ware obviously included pheromone dispensers, tuned to react and influence damn near anyone. The woman was indeed intoxicating, and even though some of her modifications could be deemed excessive, Alex found her more akin to the pornstarlet fantasies he had back in his late teens and early twenties. Part of him wanted to surrender to the temptation, and just lose himself in the second hand opium smoked environment, and allow himself this decadent, and forbidden pleasure.

Then of course was that annoyingly moralistic anarchistic part of him, that valued the freedom of individual to make their own choices. This girl was obviously enslaved, with her brain hacked and rewired with a seductive, slutty little persona-fix chip, to play upon the needs of rich, lonely men. The dominant voice in his head was screaming at the Anarchist voice to shut the living fuck up, as Minxy's huge, bouncy ass swayed this way and that, eye level, as she walked up the stairs with a masterful glide upon impossibly high heels. Alex just grunted, and mentally banished all of the distracting warning signals. He was a man of extraordinary mental control, and while he was definitely being tested, his loyalty to his fellow Shadow-runners came first. He was not the kind of asshole to take advantage of a helpless woman. That was, unless she had betrayed him first in some way.

The riggers mind raced, as he put the facts together. He had not really been properly briefed on this op, or whatever Sharon's plan was, or if she even had one. What he was certain of however, was that heart shaped tattoo on her neck. This lovely milkmaid at one time had been another shadow-runner, and a highly skilled one; A covert ops specialist that ran by the handle "Nikki". She had been part of a regular four man team that he was often contracted to ferry around to and from various missions, and/or extract them later on afterwards.

On one mission in particular, they had been a man short, and so he went with them in the role of a combat rigger, using his array of heavily modified drones. That of course had been a quick, clean, and quiet payday, so he had not been able to do much. He did however use his quad-copter to scout ahead, and give everyone real time positioning via its many cameras.

But, he was getting distracted. The heat from her fingers pressing against his brought him back to this hazy, lust filled reality. His deduction was that Sharon was planning to somehow extract this woman from her servitude. Sharon had been know to be an avenging angel of sorts, and Alex knew it never set well having to leave Nikki behind...

Behind. Speaking of behinds, her's didn't look this exaggerated and glorious back then. Oh yes, he had looked, and she had even caught him looking a few times. All she ever did was arch an eyebrow, and then look away. It had been nice, but this... Alex couldn't help himself. Absently, his hand reached out as she walked, as if to grasp, squeeze, and knead the glorious glute, to feel its firmness beneath his fingers, and enjoy its warmth. He did not however. The rigger kept his cool, and just clenched his teeth. Disciplined as he was, he was still very much a man, and this place was geared and wired to play upon and profit from that.

"Okay..." Alex whispered to himself, as he tried to piece together what Sharon might have had in mind, as he walked past the many private booths, some of them locked and occupied, with muffled noises of ecstasy emanating from within. Sharon had only told her to make the woman cum, but from an upstairs VIP room? Escape would be difficult from a second story, but not impossible. "Ahhhh...." He murmured finally, as the pieces and clues fit themselves together. He had remembered reading something of the dark web about an influx of series 3 bunraku type rigs being captured on the Seattle docks a few years ago, which had then promptly disappeared. That particular model was notoriously unreliable in high stress situations, sometimes malfunctioning if the subject comes in contact with those he or she remembers. Doubly so after the intensified sensations that came from a heavy sexual climax.

That was why Sharon had chosen him for this. He was to hopefully induce a malfunction in Nikki's Rig, so that she would not try to fight back. He mentally called up his telenet implant in his head, and sent out a text to Sharon's SMS. "I think I just figured out what you have in mind..." He mentally whispered into the digital airwaves. " We are on the second floor, about to enter the VIP room." He sent. A few seconds passed, as he entered the starkly white room, comfortable in its clean appearance, but also a little different, looking like something that Stanley Kubrick might dream up.

"Why do you think I invited you? There will be an emergency hatch in that VIP room somewhere that will lead directly to the street..." The first reply came back. Sharon was never one to mince words, and usually went directly to the point. "...something they use to get politicians out of there in a hurry, for when the police decide to show up." The fixer concluded. "...Just say when. Ill be in that back alley with this.... charming piece of hardware you brought." Though it was just displayed text, he could tell she was being a little sarcastic. "...Not a scratch on her Sharon, or this favor will cost extra." He sent back, knowing full well she would get the joke, as the RATT was covered in many carefully arranged scratches, all to look authentic.

Alex seated himself upon the very plush and comfortable cuddle chair, and damn near gasped in disbelief as the very lovely doll ripped away her pink and black snakeskin top, draping it around his shoulders. As she offered him what had to be the most perfect set of gravity defying breasts EVER... He casually brought her closer, so that she sat across his lap. The rigger moaned, as he brought one hand up around the woman's back, clutching one of her swollen, engorge breasts from around and under her arm. It was heavy, and warm, her scent of cookies and cream intoxicating in of itself. Alex could easily see why the place had been so popular. "Such perfection..." The man moaned, half in authentic lust, the other half an act to keep up the ruse. "...Here, let me please you a little as well." He whispered up into her ear, just before he took one of her stiffened nipples into his lips, latching on, suckling hungrily. Her taste was exquisite, with a succulent tang of citrus. He pulled back, making a popping noise as thin tendrils of saliva stretched from her teat to his lips. He extended his tongue, and teased the girl's nipple piercing, as he looked up at her, deep into her exotic eyes.

The muscular fingers on his other hand traced down her slim midriff, to teasingly push at her belly button a few times. His fingers then went a little deeper, snaking their way under the thin sliver of snakeskin print fabric that barely covered her delicates. Using the pads of his thumb, middle, and index fingers, he found her hot, quivering labia, and took a firm hold of it. He then started to stroke it just a little, watching the bunraku's reactions carefully. "How does that feel Minxy?" He murmured... He would have to be careful, as one wrong move could easily make this go sideways...

 

[Lala]

Minxy could tell the buyer was interested. Even without all her upgrades and augments, she knew the look a man got in his eye when the blood began to flow south. And this man’s eyes had been following each ripple and bounce of ample flesh; even more closely when she unleashed her perfect breasts for him to feast upon.

As his arm hooked around her to pull her in, she giggled and perched upon his thigh with her arms snaking around his shoulders to hold on tight. She tilted her chest upward, offering him those hardened nubs that jutted out thick as erasers. When he moaned, she answered with a little hum of delight, savoring the feeling of his hand grasping on to one of her swollen tits. She was a heavy producer, and they were starting to grow painful as they filled with that delightful, sweet milkmaid milk.

Her lips parted in anticipation as his inched closer, closer to her bobbing nipples. The agony of waiting for him to just latch on and relieve her of her burden made her ache almost as much as her engorged breasts. A few more translucent droplets oozed out of the tips in excitement and from the pressure of his hand on her flesh. He could hand-milk her of course, tugging and pulling those sensitive nubs as she moaned and filled a glass souvenir bottle for him. But it was always so much more pleasurable to have a man’s mouth around her, guzzling back her sugary nectar.

Of course, that was an augment too, one given to most Bunraku dolls and all the dolls at Boukyaku. Oh, most of them could act very well and pretend they were in ecstasy and cumming hard on their buyer’s cocks. But every once in a while there was a particularly astute buyer or a girl who just wasn’t very convincing, and that served no one. Dialing up their sensitivity though -- that was effective.

When a man paid for a night to remember at Boukyaku, he got a milkmaid who would shiver at the merest touches, growing slick and ready quickly. She would cum for him over and over as reinforced pleasure pathways dumped out adrenaline and dopamine to make blood surge to her nethers and fill her with a sense of mind-numbing euphoria. The neural paths elsewhere were also reinforced, which was obvious in the way the dolls reacted to milking and other heavy handling. The outcome left everyone immensely satisfied. Some gentlemen even placed wagers with each other over who could make a given doll orgasm the most in a session.

So when the buyer took Minxy’s nipple to his mouth, wrapping his soft lips around the stiff bud and applying the cheek-hollowing pressure needed to start suckling, her loud moan of pleasure was absolutely real. Her lacquered lips fell open, quivering, her body turning to mush as she pressed harder against his mouth. She felt little jets of her nectar spurt into his mouth, but it was hardly enough to quell her ache. She needed to be milked out completely.

Her body quaked when he pulled off, stretching her sensitive nub with a loud pop. The lush globe glistened with his spit where he had latched on, the nipple reddened from his mouth and dribbling a bit. She kept eye contact with him, fiercely, for a moment before she had to tilt her head back with a guttural groan as his tongue lapped back and forth. Her breaths were a little quicker, a little shallower, the telltale marks of arousal along with the dark pink splotches showing on her cheeks in a deep flush.

Her body responded to every brush of his fingers over her taut belly, shivering a bit as he prodded it in and out of her navel. By the time he found his way beneath the snakeskin fabric, she was already slick for him. At the apex of her pussy lips, the center of her pleasure was already swollen and hard. Even the sparest touch of his fingers over it made her moan loudly and shift her body forward against them. As he stroked, she was already rubbing herself against him, spreading her legs slightly to put his fingers in contact with her aching clit.

Minxy bit down on her glossy lip, running her long nails up and down his chest as she ground against his hand. One hand trailed lower, lower, her palm starting to lightly rub back and forth over his bulge. “Feels like you’re about to get your money’s worth,” she said with a bright grin, reaching to start undoing his fly.

“What’s your name?” she asked, both because she was supposed to and because she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that she had met him before. Though surely she would have remembered that handsome face. She tipped her hips forward slightly. With how wet she already was, those fingers could slide right into her, giving him a preview of her tight little grip.

 

[Pazzo]

Alex felt his own arousal mount, in the most profound way. His own mouth fell open in disbelief, as he felt the heat of her well maintained body bounce against him. Her expertly trimmed little pink bob haircut accentuated the curve of her elven jawline, giving her a hot, aquiline appearance that drove his arousal wild. Her face was utterly gorgeous, even with the excessive whore like eyeliner, with the hot pink circles on her cheeks, looking like an old school, if incredibly sexy porcelain doll, begging to be played with.

Then of course there was her plump lips, wetly painted, with her tongue lolling out, longer than it should have been, with the gentle light glinting off of her tongue barbell stud. Her breasts were magnificent, perhaps a little large, but full and ample, inviting and warm, triggering those vestigial pathways found in all men's brain's since the days of the old masters when they hunted mastodons with spears for meat. Large breasts and a skinny waist meant that she was ready to be impregnated, and her breasts making her look viable to feed the infants, and make them strong. Perhaps it triggered the rooting instinct in him, making him desire to suckle from them, to be nourished and fed, and to become stronger. Her piercings likewise felt amazing against his tongue.

She was quite literally his every dirty fantasy put together, all into one delicious, irresistible package. But, there was one agonizingly painful moral dilemma involved;
Minxy, as her new name would be, was a Bunraku. She was not really enjoying herself, but just executing a carefully written program to react and appear as if she was.
For all intents and purposes, a salve, with her mind suppressed by highly advanced hardware, and her body extensively altered for only one purpose. To be fucked long, and hard, and then tossed away into a closet. At most, Bunraku could live to be ten years old, but by then their bodies were worn out, and thier Personafix chips completely fried. Elves like her of course could live a little longer, as they did not age as fast as normal humanoid females, but the technology still ravaged them. that mattered little to Jin, as she was just another easily dispensed and disposed of asset. From what he made on her services, he could probably make two more.

Perhaps she could be saved and restored. There was no way to know for sure. All he could do was remain focused, and stick to the plan. Then her dainty, gentle looking hand touched his incredibly stiff manhood through his pants, the pads of her fingers lighting little fires in their wake. He felt a liquid line of pleasure shoot through his spine, as he felt a bead of precum ooze out of his slit, to dampen his tighty whites. "Damn..." He grunted, as his slid two of his fingers deep within her womanhood, feeling her hot walls almost come alive of their own accord, to close around his digits as they slipped inside of her sodden depths.

Oh how jealous his cock was right now... "No..." He whispered to his mind. "This is for her..." He imagined to himself. If there was one thing Alex was good at, it was making a woman climax. He curled his fingers upwards, into a "come here" type gesture, and pressed them into that rough, spongy little spot just behind her pubic bone, and lingered there for just a moment, probing and prodding gently, as he watched her reactions carefully. His hungry mouth latched onto her other nipple, watching those perfectly slutty wet lips part as she moaned. He then suckled with purpose, swallowing the intoxicating nectar like it was going out of style. His finger then pressed into her a little harder, rubbing in circles, as he pressed into her throbbing clit from the other direction, rubbing it in skilled, small, but intensified circles...

He pulled away from her nipple reluctantly, blowing on her saliva coated nipple, red and burning from his suckling, creating a soothing, cooling sensation. He looked into her eyes once, and smiled, then came in close to her ear, and wispered in a seductive tone. "My name is Alex. Now cum upon my fingers pretty girl. Climax upon them Nikki, do it now..." He murmured, letting her real name slip, as he was trying his best, but was indeed lost in the moment, desperate to make her feel good regardless.