But with me you can have that wild fling, knowing that not only will I keep your secret, but there is no danger of us falling in love. You can plumb me, speak love to me, exhaust your passion, and I will play the role throughout. I don't mind if you see me as another woman; we understand each other, have indulged before as ourselves, and will again as convenient. At the moment we both have other roles to play. I am Weft made safe. Then, aloud: "You may be a robot, but I want you to pose as my father, Havoc."
"Doubt," he said. "That would be incest."
"Technically no. Havoc and I are not related genetically. Only socially."
"Point," he conceded. This was for the benefit of the watching machines. Their grasp of human psychology was limited; they thought that Havoc and Weft lacked only opportunity to complete their shared hunger. Now the two of them could make a performance that would satisfy the machines that their purpose in sending the robot was being accomplished. That Weft was falling for the robot, and would increasingly heed him. So he might persuade her to get her sister to enlist with them. It was a fairly straightforward ploy, on the part of the machines.
"Do me, dad. You know we both want it."
It was a wonderful offer, on more than one level. Weft made safe, as she had pointed out. He really could indulge himself completely with her, without guilt. "Agreement!"
He clasped her and kissed her avidly. She met him more than half way. "I love you, dad. Do with me whatever you want."
"I love you, Weft." He kissed her perfect breasts as she stroked his head and writhed to get the nipples into his mouth. "But I want what you want."
"Truly?"
"Affirmation."
"Then let me—just a little." She changed position, got him on his back, and put her mouth to his member. "I always thought that if I could just get you like this, I could draw out your power and put it in me. Then I would be strong, like you." She took it in all the way.
Havoc lay there, astonished. Weft had once sent him just such a thought, when she was newly nubile and ferociously jealous of his passion for Gale. Red must have picked it up peripherally as she read his mental discussion.
Now she was doing it.
He let it happen. In moments she licked, squeezed, and sucked with such expertise that she evoked his climax.
His semen pumped out and down her throat in an intense flow. He felt her climax too; she was reading his feeling, modifying it, and sending it back female. She was swallowing all he had to give.
At last she stopped the stimulation and let him subside. "Now I am replete," she said. "Your essence is in my belly and I will never let it go. It will become part of me forever." And that was the rest of Weft's dream. She had believed that his substance would give her perpetual power, her female body governing his male essence. It was perhaps a foolish notion, but she had definitely had it.
"Now it is my turn, Weft," he said. He revved up his member again and got on top of her. He entered forcefully, as she desired, and penetrated the full depth of her. Her vagina closed tightly about him, squeezing him, manipulating him almost as aptly as her mouth had. Soon he ejaculated again, sending many more pulses into her. They overflowed, squeezing out around his member.
"But I want it to stay in me," she said, almost plaintively.
He knew what she meant. He withdrew, then put his member to her puckered rectum and nudged it in. This was a much tighter fit, and had to be navigated carefully. Then she released her sphincter, gladly admitting him. Once he was fully in her, he thrust again, repeatedly, until he jetted a third time. Now the liquid did not squeeze out; he continued the thrusting and the flow until he had put a relatively huge amount into her.
She kissed him almost desperately. "Keep it coming, dad! I want to fill up like a balloon!" Which was another of her teen images, to receive so much ejaculate that she swelled up, inflated with the divine elixir. At that age she had not quite realized that normal ejaculate was a very small amount. He might have spewed out half a cupful in all, which was more than any normal man could have managed, especially after the two prior efforts.
But finally he had to ease off. Even as a Glamor, he could not send out fluid forever. "Enough," he said, kissing her. "You don't want to wind up with all of me inside you."
"Awww. Then I'd be your mother. You'd have to obey me implicitly. I'd let you out only on holidays, supervised." She tried to close her sphincter, holding him in, and it was tight indeed, grasping him like a vice. It was a trick she must have learned from Ennui, who had once killed a man by holding him inside her while she bit his throat.
The base of his penis was squeezed small, while the rest was larger, the blood trapped in it, so it couldn't pass. But he revved up his potency again, becoming rock hard, forcing her muscle to yield slowly as his member expanded. Now it was a tapering column that was slippery with his own ejaculate, and he managed to pull out past her reluctant aperture.
Except for the head, which remained lodged. So he tickled her bottom with a finger. "No fair!" she cried, laughing involuntarily, relaxing for an instant so that he slipped through. This was a forced exit, like a rape in reverse as their wills collided. She truly did not want to let him go.
And Red was playing the role marvelously. She had evidently studied Weft and picked up on her traits. She had never done anything like this with him when being herself, but for Weft it was absolutely realistic.
He lifted himself up and looked at her lovely slender bare body. "I think you are swollen," he said. Actually she looked the same, but this was part of the game.
"Goody!" She sat up and looked at herself. "Yes, I'm bursting. I'm fat with so much of you inside me. It feels so great!" And that completed that little fantasy. Her interest in alternate forms, such as oral and anal, might have stemmed from her desire to evoke a huge volume of his substance and keep it, as could not be done vaginally.
He had called her possessive. This little scene had demonstrated it. She had taken him into her stomach for digestion, and into her colon for absorption. She didn't want any part of him to escape. It was the physical manifestation of an emotional reality.
"I think our time is up, for now," he said, for he heard a stirring outside the chamber.
"Yes. Iolo is back." Indeed the ifrit had been watching the last of their effort. The ifrits knew all about sex, having learned it from men, and participated when invited, though it was not their natural mode of reproduction.
Theoretically Iolo had been in the vicinity throughout, guarding their privacy. But they all knew there was no privacy here. The machines would have recordings of all of it. More important, Iolo had been on a mission of his own, distributing pseudo ikons. These had been secretly developed in the last five years; they had done their best to make sure the machines did not learn of them. The two regular ikons Iolo carried had remained on the floor when he diffused, but the pseudo ikons were formed of ifrit stuff.
They cleaned up, dressed, and rejoined the tourist party. It was hard to judge, but the other creatures did look well satisfied with the interlude.
"This is a popular stop," Ostrich remarked as he rejoined them. He had discretely remained with the floater.
"Didn't your female stay too?" Weft asked.
"She did. But she is conducting another set of tourists. We get together between shifts and make some feathers fly." He paused a moment. "Pheromones are everywhere. It is one of the attractions of this planet." It was a fair warning.
They boarded the floater. The next stop was a lovely array of gardens, with many wildly exotic plants. Havoc wanted to inspect them more closely, but again as a robot he would lack the interest.
"Havoc would really be interested in this," Weft murmured. "Weren't you crafted to resemble him, Ikon?" For in public he remained Ikon, her companion, not identified as the robot but as a separate man.