Help, My Clit is Missing! A Daxter T. Connors Adventure [MF] [Sci-Fi] [voy]

After his morning run, a stationary affair inside of a Cool Bubble overlooking State Street from his downtown New Santa Barbara office, Daxter released a sigh of contentment. He was in peak physical condition, sipping at a cool glass of water and dabbing his forehead with a soft cloth.

The temperature had reached a balmy 134 Fahrenheit, but it was a comfortable 72 indoors, and in the Cool Bubble, a chill 55. Within the confines of a Cool Bubble was the only place one could find temperatures that could be considered “cold” these days, what with the nuclear summer sticking around longer than Daxter would have liked.

A solitary beep from his D-Vice, sat upon his cluttered office desk, caught his attention. Daxter, New Santa Barbara’s most prestigious private investigator, had been busy in recent memory, a treat considering the almost non-existent crime rate in New Santa Barbara County since the adoption of the death penalty for even the most mundane of crimes. Last week, a 44 year old man from New Oakland had been executed for having a wank in a movie theater. Some objected, but in the end, the law is the law.

“Dax – plz contact Sheriff Bonnie, robo-maid at treasurer’s house says someone stole her clit.”

Dax sighed and rubbed his face with his sweaty towel. Robo-clit swiping had become a rampant problem, even spilling out from the brothels. Many parts of a synth are valueless unless they are still attached to the synth, but the clitoris, added to sex-bots in particular for added realism, was a bejeweled accessory that could be hocked for a few hundred credits on the black market, and sometimes even in online auctions. This was Daxter’s fourth clit-theft since the beginning of 2120, and it wasn’t even Juguary yet.

After a quick shower, during which he had a quick wank whilst thinking of nothing in particular, Daxter suited up and donned his trilby before heading underground. At peak afternoon hours when the sun was at its highest, rarely was it that anyone traveled overground without three inches of sun protection. UV Radiation was nothing to fool around with, even if one had consumed double the dose of rad-pills for the day.

It was a quick jaunt down to the City Treasurer’s office. In the lobby, a synth-maid stood with tears in her eyes, arms crossed over her chest. She wore a short, frilled maid’s uniform, the trim of the skirt rising high to her upper hips. Her smooth, cocoa-hued skin gave Daxter the impression that she would be better off as a personal pleasure synth than a maid, or at least that is what he would have liked to see as he scoped the rest of her: easy d-cup trapped behind a tight black and white number, long, raven black hair in a tight bun, and big, dark lips Daxter struggled to keep from imagining wrapped around his ginormous member, or on his asshole, depending on his mood.

A normal joe officer was taking her deposition, but looked bored out of his mind. Daxter couldn’t blame him; clit-theft was as mundane as stealing a waffle from a Belgian these days.

“I’ll take it from here,” said Daxter and the officer seemed all too pleased to comply. “What’s up, hot dog?”

“Oh, Daxter, I’d heard about this kind of thing from the bulletins, but I never imagined that it could happen to me.” Her name was Margaret and she appeared to be upset, but Daxter knew that it was part of her programming, a feature of the Maid-Bot Version 4. This was Treasurer Bolton’s property through and through; the man, aside from being a financial and budgeting wizard, was a serious pervert who liked his servants with a little side action.

“Yeah, well,” said Daxter as he retrieved his D-Vice and set it to dictation. “So where’s your clit, Marge?”

“I’m not sure,” she said.

“When’s the last time you saw it?”

“Last night, before I went to bed,” she said, and she blushed lightly. Daxter tapped his chin with his finger.

“Perhaps we should recreate the scenario, you know, for clues and such.”

Upstairs, Margaret laid on her bed, averting her eyes from Daxter’s gaze as she unbuttoned the top few buttons of her dress, exposing the top of her supple, tan breasts. As her fingers traced over her tight stomach and toward her thighs, Daxter’s eyes widened and he cleared his throat.

“Holy moly,” he said.

“Is this okay? You want to know what happened, right?” asked Marge as she toyed with her inner thigh, teasing herself.

“Oh, yes,” said Daxter. “I’m going to need to see everything. You know, for investigation purposes.” Daxter was happy that he had chosen to wear tight briefs today, as the force of his swelling erection could have tore through any lesser fabric.

Margaret laid back on to her pillows and began rubbing herself with two fingers in a circular motion. Soon, she was gyrating with gusto. She removed her breasts from her top with one hand, her pert nipples standing at attention as she slid her panties to the side, exposing her moist, aroused pussy. Then, inserting a finger, she began to moan.

Daxter watched in captive attention, studying her every move as a sliver of drool traveled down his chin. *What I wouldn’t give to be her hand right now*, thought Daxter. As Margaret writhed under her own touch, Daxter couldn’t take his eyes off her massive tits spilling out from her top. She tweaked her nipples as she came closer to climax, and Daxter’s gaze drifted to the action between her legs – that’s when he noticed that she indeed had no E-Clit attachment. Marge began to come, her legs shaking; it was a violent, but classy affair. She lay back and looked deeply into Daxter’s eyes as she began to cover up.

“Is that what you needed?” asked Margaret.

“And how!” said Daxter, clearing his throat again. “So, after you pleasured yourself, what did you do then?”

“I inserted my charging cable and activated rest mode,” she said. “I could do it now, but I wouldn’t be able to wake up again for approximately 52 minutes.”

Daxter found that curious; a 52-minute window during which a talented thief could sneak in, steal a clitoris and sneak out undetected. He began scrutinizing the windows and, when he found that they were all locked from inside, he turned his attention to the door and found that there was no lock.

“I suppose a synth-maid wouldn’t need to lock her door, hm,” said Daxter, more to himself than to anyone in particular. It was then that the door opened and a meek looking boy poked his head in, his eyes on the floor as if purposefully avoiding eye contact.

“Mr. Bolton, sir, would like to see you in the study!” the boy said before quickly making a dignified exit.

Daxter nodded to Marge, and then winked.

“Perhaps later you can show me that again, this time for your pleasure.” Daxter tipped his trilby and, with a smile, left the room. It was midway down the stairs that he imagined that perhaps she wasn’t programmed for flattery and that he may have made an error in his flirtation, to which he grumbled.

As he entered the study, Daxter’s vision had to readjust to the dim lighting. There were no windows, and instead on every wall were books arranged neatly in cabinets. A tall man stood next to a roaring digital fire that produced the sights and sounds but none of the heat. Holding a snifter of brandy in one hand, the other placed firmly behind his back, the man turned to face the detective.

“Ah, Detective Connors, a pleasure, I’m sure.” Treasurer Michael Bolton held a commanding presence, which is why Mayor Sonny Bono had put him in charge of the city’s finances after the New California civil war had come to an end. A man who could steadily tick numbers off of a ledger is what the town needed, not a shoot-by-the-hip accountant the old world had been used to.

“Mr. Bolton,” said Daxter. “Let’s get down to business: your maid’s womanhood is missing and I intend to find out where it went.”

“Of course,” said Bolton, a grimace forming over his face. “To think some filthy thief burgled my property. It sends me into a fit of rage.”

Daxter noticed Bolton’s D-Vice sat on the mantle. On it, an image from a video had been paused depicting the same man who had informed Daxter to meet with Bolton up in the Margaret’s room. Bolton noticed.

“That is my man servant Frederick, by way of mail order,” said Bolton. “He’s been with me for one year, and I haven’t had a single complaint about his behavior. Until now.” He turned and pressed play on the video, and Daxter moved closer to watch.

Frederick, a young man in his mid twenties, Daxter assumed, had light brown hair and a demeanor that screamed “don’t hit me.” He snuck about in the video around the shelves – Daxter noticing that the video was taken from within the very same room he was standing in currently. From the angle, he concluded that the security camera must be in the upper left corner just above the entrance, but a quick glance over his shoulder proved that it was well hidden and could not be seen.

Frederick appeared to be looking for something, until the doorway opened and Margaret entered, dust broom in hand, wearing that familiar tight maid’s outfit that had driven Daxter nuts since he first laid eyes on her. She looked toward Frederick and he, spotting her, stopped what he was doing and leaned against the shelving.

What happened next is exactly what Daxter would have liked to have happened in the upstairs room between him and Margaret. Frederick moved quickly to her side and kissed her passionately, and she returned the favor, dropping her broom and partially lifting her leg to press her knee against his side. Working quickly, the two moved toward the fireplace, no fire lit inside at this particular time, where Frederick turned her around and expertly hiked her skirt.

Margaret leaned forward, pressing her tanned, bulbous ass against his crotch as Frederick worked to unleash his ginormous cock, which he did with anxious quickness. Margaret slid her panties down to her knees and Frederick entered her from behind and went to work pounding her, her tits pressing against the very same mantle Daxter and Bolton stood before watching the spectacle.

Frederick pulled out of her mere moments after it had began and spun her around, and she, as if rehearsed, dropped to her knees, unbuttoned her top and let her tits spill out. The large, spherical breasts were top-notch manufactured, dark circles accentuating the rock-hard nipples, as Frederick beat off and eventually ejaculated on to her chest. As she sat panting, looking up at the man, Frederick quickly replaced his member and kissed the top of her head before turning and exiting quickly.

Margaret stood, hiked up her panties and buttoned her top, and then went about her task of cleaning the room. Daxter was doubly proud of his sturdy briefs for hiding his rock hard boner, but was worried that all of the stress would eventually lead to his penis breaching his pants at the most inopportune time.

“Well, there you have it. The boy stole Margaret’s clitoris and I want him executed for it,” said Bolton.

“Whoa now, that doesn’t prove anything other than the fact that you should have this room sterilized,” said Daxter. “All that tells me is that your servants are banging.”

“They were banging. After I saw this video, I confronted Frederick and put him on notice,” said Bolton. “He must have stolen her clitoris in a fit of rage.”

Daxter pondered this for a moment, until the door to the study opened. Frederick stood with his eyes again averted to the floor.

“Mr. Bolton, sir, Mayor Bono is here for your appointment,” said Frederick, to which Bolton nodded.

“I’ll leave you to it, then, Detective,” said Bolton before turning to head out, leaving with a whispered threat. “If that boy isn’t in handcuffs by this afternoon, I’ll heave your dick.”

“Whoa now,” said Daxter, scratching his head.

Alone in the study, Daxter rubbed his aching dick; he hadn’t gotten off since rubbing one out in the bathroom this morning and it was starting to get on his nerves. It was then that he realized that Bolton had left his D-Vice on the mantel; Daxter came up with a sneaky plan.

He took a seat in Bolton’s master chair, its high back blocking the view from the security camera, and whipped out his Johnson, giving it a few strokes.

“Ah,” he said as he reached out to press play on the D-Vice in hopes of watching Margaret take a pounding all over again. Only this time, as he pressed play, another clip began. As Daxter felt his rock hard member go flaccid in his hand, he watched Margaret sleeping. “Hello, what’s all this?”

In the clip, Margaret is fast asleep, but Daxter could not be sure for how long she had been recharging. All was quiet – until her door opened and in walked Bolton, flipping on the lights. Margaret’s eyes blinked and she woke, sitting up. She wore the same outfit she had worn during the day, and Daxter thought he’d like to have a word with Bolton about getting her a skimpier outfit to sleep in.

“I know you’ve been up to. We all know, and we all think it’s wrong,” said Bolton.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” responded Margaret.

“You been smooching everybody,” said Bolton, visibly angry. “Snuffy, Al, Leo, little Moe with the gimpy leg, Cheeks, Boney Bob, Cliff, and now Frederick. It’s too much. I pay you to be a maid, not a whore!”

Margaret blushed and turned away as Bolton extended his hand.

“Hand it over,” he said, and Margaret wept. “Surrender your clitoris or I’ll have you expelled to the mines of New North Dakota!”

Margaret complied, reaching into her panties and removing her e-clitoris. The bejeweled accessory was brilliant, even in the poor quality of the D-Vice video. After placing it in his hand, Bolton put it into his pocket, turned and left. Margaret went back to recharging, seemingly none the worse.

“There you have it,” a stark voice came from behind the chair. Bolton hopped up with his dick in his hand.

“Ah, by god man, cover yourself!” cried Daxter.

Bolton stuffed his dick back into his pants and began to tuck in his shirt.

“What gives, asshole!”

Suddenly Bolton’s expression changed into a cross between a wild sneer and a grin.

“Ever since the radiation took my ability to perform, the only pleasure I’ve known is filming perverts within these walls,” said Bolton with a laugh. “Thanks to your inability to keep it in your pants, I now have you, too, to add to my collection!”

Daxter gasped at the thought of Bolton watching him with his rock hard dick in his hand, only for it to deflate half a minute later. Only a sick individual could take any pleasure from that – but he should have known it about Bolton.

“If that isn’t illegal, it should be!” said Daxter. “At the very least, it’s sick! You’re holding your own servants hostage to your perversions, and you should be ashamed.”

“Ashamed? No, I’m aroused!” said Bolton, his eyes wide, pupils gazing in opposite directions. “And it is far from illegal. These servants are my property,” he said as he pulled the bejeweled clitoris from his pocket, turning it in his fingers as it caught the light of the fire and shimmered. “I’ll do with them as I please. And since you were spanking it in my room, I could have you arrested for public indecency! So, begone. I have… videos to watch.”

Bolton let out a laugh tinted with evil as Daxter left the room, passing Margaret in the hallway. She smiled at him and he scoffed, “You were in on it the whole time!” he said.

“Sorry,” She replied with a laugh. “But don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy the show.”

Back at the office, Daxter caught Mayor Bono on the phone after his meeting with Bolton.

“I hope you washed your hands after you left, that guy’s jizz covers more area than the scarred plains of the midwest,” said Daxter.

“Don’t I know it!” replied Bono. “The guy’s a serious perv, I should’ve warned you about him. No matter. Listen, Daxter – we’ve got a real problem. Aside from his kinks, Bolton says that $5 million credits are missing from the ledger and he can’t find it.”

Daxter laughed, “Oh I’m certain he jacked off about that, too, when you left.”

“No, Daxter! He gets off on everything but a budget out of balance! He suspects fraud, but we’re not sure where to start.”

Daxter stood from his desk and poured himself a scotch as he surveyed State Street from his window. The mission style architecture from the history books had been replaced with drab gray buildings made of shielded lead to prevent UV penetration; rad-pills could only protect a person for so long.

“I’ll take it,” said Daxter, smiling at the sigh of relief he could hear from the mayor over the phone. “The fraudster will never see me coming. Or arriving.”

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/8bat25/help_my_clit_is_missing_a_daxter_t_connors

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