Here’s the final chapter, submitted as a separate post due to size limitations. Enjoy!
*In Distress.*
I descend the stairs with a heavy heart, full of regrets. I remind myself that this was your choice, that your rebelliousness, your willingness to break the rules, your brilliance, were all equally significant in making you the women you were. My protege. Still, I can’t help but wonder, as I step slowly down into he poorly lit basement of the black-market Galactic Real Estate clearing house I found through word of mouth, if I could not have done more, could have prevented you from taking things too far.
We live in a world of over-looked wonders. Few people take even a moment to reflect on how lucky we are, to live when we do, standing on the shoulders of giants. We are all too busy enjoying the conveniences and comforts that modern technology has granted us, to think too much about how it used to be.
Lifespans used to be shorter. Information used to be harder to access. Everything used to be so much smaller, harder, less exciting. Hell, it wasn’t that long ago that you couldn’t just pay a small fee to lay claim to an uncharted world, and hop through a portal to enjoy your new private slice of untouched paradise.
But not you though. You were always looking to push the boundaries. Two hundred years wasn’t long enough for you. You wanted to extend the human life time. You wanted to make the world even better. You were no idle dreamer. You knew how the world worked, that if you wanted to improve it, you needed to *earn* your advances.
So you studied hard, mostly under me. I taught you everything I knew. When you asked about certain forbidden techniques, areas of inquiry long ago abandoned as Too dangerous, or with too many downsides, I indulged your curiosity, but cautioned you against thinking you knew better. In hindsight, a little more of the latter, and a little less of the former, could have been good for both of us.
But again, that wouldn’t have been right. That wasn’t why we got along so well. Our mutual respect was something to be cherished, not regretted.
I had no idea how far you had gone, that you had even started to go through with it, until you sent me the first encrypted recording. There you were, on your own private planet (which I never knew you had even bought). And there, in the recording, was also you. And another, And another of you. All six of you reported your findings, taking turns, finishing each other’s sentences. My jaw dropped, and not just because five of you were naked, a sight I had never seen before, but because of the significance of this conversation.
You had made more progress than anyone before, in producing clones that were more than empty shells, that contained the conscious, the soul, if you will, of the original. Ever since we, as a species, perfected cloning technology, that had been the holy grail. Try as we might, no-one had ever been able to copy the mind of another human being, only the body. We had found so many ways to cheat death, to prolong life. But distilling the soul of a human being into another body, even a carbon copy of the original, was a trick that eluded us, staying firmly in death’s grasp.
But you had found a way. You started reporting back every day, showing more and more progress. You described how it felt, to be surrounded by an army of yourself – for by now, it was an army. You had grown in number to over a thousand within the first week.
You still felt like you, and all the other still recognised you as the original, but you were also now so much more. You could feel slivers and glimpses of what they did. Seeing every moment of the lives of even twenty clones was more than you could handle. If you tried to take in too much, you passed out, or started to hallucinate. You could exert limited control over your duplicates, especially the simpler ones.
For that was another side effect of all this – some of your copies weren’t quite all there. They were simpler, capable of only limited speech. Some of your clones seemed different to you, in other ways. More outgoing, more playful. More sexual. Some of you seemed to prefer being naked. Or, now that you had installed a Universal Constructor, many of you seemed to like dressing up.
But not you though, not the one and only original. Throughout every report I received from you, you stayed in the same white lad coat and sensible flats for shoes.
You went silent for a few days, then, when you came back, you showed me something truly shocking.
Six of you stood in a circle, around a seventh, who was naked. The others all wore plain, form-fitting red dresses. They stood around the stone alter on which the seventh lay.
“Begin when ready, girls” The camera-woman, you spoke up, and moments later, the six lay their hands on their victim, slapping and hitting her, making her squeal and squirm, tormenting her in the most titillating way, for ten minutes, before slowly choking the life out of her.”
You held the camera steady, for the most part, though the high-grade microphone could not help but capture the frequent moans and sighs which escaped your lips. Once it was over, you turned the camera to face yourself.
“I felt every moment of that, professor. I can remember what it was like, to be sacrificed. DO you know what the means?”
I told you that I did, and asked you to take yourself somewhere private. I had told you, several times, how uncomfortable your clones made me. I left out just how strangely comfortable I was with seeing them/you naked.
I tried to tell you how strange this all was, That although your progress was impressive, I was worried that you were getting a little close to this, fetishising this. I worried about you. I asked if it was time for me to come visit.
You told me no, almost as if you were desperate to keep me away. You said that you were concerned it would upset the balance of things, that my presence would disturb the clones. You were vague as to exactly why, and gave up no more details, leaving me no choice but to take your word for it.
Still, I would have intruded anyway, if I could have. But you never gave me the coordinates to your private world. You had brought an unlisted planet, and not registered it with the alliance. So I had no way to trace you.
I grew more and more worried over the coming week, throughout which you maintained radio silence. On the seventh day, when you opened up a video link once again, I was again shocked. There you were, in your lab coat, sitting against a wall, legs spread.
*in just your lab coat*
I watched, stunned, as you diddled yourself with what looked like a penis-shaped cucumber, fondling your b cup breasts,moaning with delight. I couldn’t believe my ears when you started to speak up.
“Do you like me, Daddy? Do you want to fuck me? Do you want to teach your naughty little student how to be a real woman?”
You seemed to be in a trance. You made no response to anything I said. I had no idea where this had come from. We had always been close, but never in *that* way. Until I saw your clones prancing around naked, I had mostly assumed that you hardly even had a sexual side. You had always been *like* a daughter to me, I had always treated you like my own, but never like this. I had never heard you call me that before, in any tone, let alone this one.
“Is it hard, Daddy? Show it to me! Make it shoot!”
It was, but I couldn’t bring myself to join in, to enjoy this worrisome display. As much as I might have liked it, I didn’t even know if this was the real you, and I was far too worried about what this could mean.
Your little performance ended loudly and climactic ally, before you blew a kiss at the camera, and signed off. I heard nothing more from you, for two more days, then came the next message.
It was you, or one of you at least, clearly not the original. Your breasts were bigger, you were a little shapelier, and your head was a vivid red. You looked like a wet dream – not that the original wasn’t pretty, but still. You looked every bit the part of the bimbo, who wore your original body if she wasn’t in fact you, who had talked to me last time. But this one had every bit of your fierce intelligence.
She spoke with a smirk on her face, with a confident, almost haughty tone. She was dressed in the most, elaborate, elegant gown I had ever seen.
“Hello professor, it’s the Queen Bee here. Your girl has made a mess of this place, as she tried to keep it in line, to control it, to use it for her science. But I’m here now, so it’s time for some fun. She led us on quite the merry chase, but we’ve finally caught that clever little meanie. She’s locked away safe and sound, we’re prepping her for you. Talk soon”
She signed off by blowing a kiss at the camera.
My panic mounted over the next five days, as I tried, by any means available to me, to find out where your planet was. No such luck. My heart sank when I saw your final message.
There you were, tied to a chair, a bright red ball gag in your mouth. Your lab coat was nowhere to be seen. Your bare breasts were covered in red marks – little pricks, bite marks, welts, even a few bruises. Your hair was done up nicely. Still your natural colour, but styled and treated to perfection. Also, I couldn’t help notice that your womanhood was now trimmed down to a neat landing strip.
The Queen Bee stood beside you, and unstrapped your ball gaga, speaking into your ear as she did so.
“Go on now, you tell the Professor, tell Daddy, what he needs to do, if he wants to see you again. Don’t hold back. remember what’s at stake.”
As soon as your mouth was freed, you started speaking a mile a minute.
“Professor, I’m so sorry, this has all gone wrong. You were right, I never should have done this. I’m being held hostage. I need you to come save me.” You paused, and swallowed nervously before continuing. “I’ve always had a crush on you. I never let it show. I was too afraid. Of you rejecting me. I’ve had a kinky side I’ve never shown anyone. They’re all like me, but worse. They want you. I think Huyme was right – copying the consciousness into a clone is never a prefect process. You always get parts of the subconscious, repressed desires coming to the surface.”
The Queen Bee slapped her hand over your mouth, and added her own piece of the puzzle.
“And that’s where I come in. I’m the truest, most outrageous representation of your little girl’s deepest, naughtiest desires. What I want, more than anything else, is for you to come and play with us, Daddy, fuck some sense into all of us. Kill your way to the top. Come find me, Daddy. Rescue your princess.”
She then held up a piece of paper, in which a series of seventeen numbers were written, separated by dots. At the end, where the last number should have been, were three dashes.
*Finally, the Co-ordinates!*
“Come quickly, Daddy.”
With that, the transmission ended.
I used the co-ordinates, missing one number, as proof that you were in trouble. I had inquired before, as to where your planet was located, citing concerns about your safety, as to where you were in the galaxy. I was told that they could not divulge your location, unless I wanted to make an official report, and provide evidence as to why I feared for you safety.
As terrible as your work was, I didn’t want to risk it falling into the wrong hands, or have you face the obvious consequences. Now though, on the strength of the incomplete set of coordinates, claiming that I feared your link had gone down, they confirmed at least that much, that there was a planet within that region of space that had been claimed shortly before your experiments started, which had now gone dark. I was further informed that I could lay claim to it myself, after the thirty day cooling off period, required by law, between changes of ownership.
I couldn’t wait that long.
Instead, I packed a medium sized backpack with everything I could think of that might help, and started availing myself of the services of black-market planet traders. They charged a fortune, in cash, but asked no questions.
Without the final number, I could only make uneducated guess, placing me within a thousand or so mile radius of the original portal. The first attempt almost flooded the basement of the dealer, or would have, if the safety shut-off hadn’t kicked in within nanoseconds.
Second try, I was much more prepared, and sent a drone through straight away. It flew for days before running out of battery, and crash-landing, but not before capturing a herd of wild Sarah’s running and chasing each other.
I knew that black-market planet trades were no absolute guarantee of anonymity, or complete safety from the law. Still, the telemetry I had gather from the drone was enough for me to make an educated guess as to where my next portal should be opened. I estimated that I would be no more than a hundred miles from the original portal. Which would be close enough, assuming the Queen Bee hadn’t taken you to another continent, or off-world.
I had little choice but to take the plunge. I was running out of money, and growing more and more concerned that my repeated black-market probings of the same planet would raise eyebrows. I fired up one more portal, sent a drone through, and collected data for the next two days. The drone captured footage of more and more of you, and also buildings, confirming that you were nearby, or had been at least. I watched the building where my portal was housed closely, and when I felt certain, or as much as I could be, that there was no police presence, I made my move.
Skulking over in the dark of the night, I used the supplied key to unlock the front door of the twenty four hour, portal station, found my way using the signs provided to the basement level that housed my portal.
Down I went. The lights turned on automatically when I open the door, and lite my way to the locker which held my portal. It opened up when I entered in the security code. Peering through, I could see an open plain, with several mud huts. IN the distance, I could just make out the outline of a city. A free-range, naked Sarah walked past, showing absolutely no interest in the portal. This suggested that I was in an area populated by dimmer clones, more primal than sentient.
Which was just where I wanted to make my entrance – an area close enough to the center of population that the walk wouldn’t kill me, but far enough away that I could get my bearings without being swamped. From the discussions I had with you, I had gleaned that the outer regions surrounding the epicenter of your cloning experiment had wilder, less intelligent versions of you. I only hoped that I was correct in assuming that less of your seemingly fanatical devotion to me, as exhibited by the Red Queen, survived in these creatures.
Inhaling Deeply, I step through, and out into the World of Sarah. I close the portal down, and step away from the rudimentary shelter that was built around it, before any Sarah’s can jump back through, or any police can follow me.
Spying a Sarah, possibly the same one who walked by moments ago, I call out.
“You, come here!”
Hear ears perk up at my voice. With my cloak on, and the hood pulled over my face, I wouldn’t have been recognisable, but the sound of my voice seemed to be enough.
“DADDY!?”
It bounds over to me, over-sized breasts bouncing merrily until it wrap it’s arms around me.
“Daddy! Fuck me!”
I push it away.
“NO time for that. I’m here for the Queen Bee. DO you know her?”
It answers with only a moan, which soon turns into a fit of wracking sobs. Worried that it might draw others, and thus more attention than would be safe, I take it into my arms, and comfort it, cooing at the thing as I bring my hands up. I snap its neck before it can make any more noise.
Leaving its lifeless body where it falls, I start the walk over to a nearby hill, about a quarter mile away. It’s steep, and quite tall, but someone, or something more likely, has installed steps that seems to go all the way up. The climb will do me good. I’ll have time to process what I’ve just done, decide how I feel about it, and plan my next move.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/70lzoc/what_does_it_all_mean_part_2_str8_mfmf_nc_fsub