My pussy and arse were a bit still a bit sore when I got back to my room. Miranda32 obviously knew I never made it back last night but retained the decorum not to say anything. I rooted around in my bathroom but couldn’t find anything to salve my sore pussy.
“Miranda?” I asked, tentatively, “Um, this a bit delicate, but what could I use on my, you know, delicate bits?” When did I come across all shy, especially when talking to a machine?
“Do you require medical assistance?” it asked. Well, that depended on how cute the medic was, I thought. NO!
“No, no, that’s fine. Just needed a bit of cream, I guess” I could tell the bitch knew exactly what I wanted and was smirking somewhere in that mechanical brain.
“Bottom cupboard in your dressing room, you’ll find a tube of nanopaste, which will fix you up a treat. In the next draw up you’ll also find various lubricants, for future reference.”
“Thanks Miranda, appreciated”
“Don’t mention it, Miss. Here to help.”
The nanopaste felt like nothing I’d every touched before, seeming to move in my fingers of its own volition. I dabbed a little on my lips and arsehole and it immediately spread itself across me and into me, soothing the redness and numbing the raw nerves. I really liked the future. It was cool! I wondered idly what else I could spread it on, and put a dab on each nipple, watching it spread across my tit and disappear.
I ran a deep, luxurious bath and lounged for a long, long time, topping up the hot water occasionally with my toes, and reflected on everything that had happened in the past 24 hours. I also wondered what had happened in the past 24 years but facing the realities of the wider world could well wait for another day.
I got Miranda to dig up some old music and lay there, jumping hedges and strolling the merry ways first, before drinking the clear, clean water for to quench my thirst.
After my bath I spent a couple of hours pulling open all the drawers and cupboards in my rooms, rearranging things and moving some furniture around. I had Miranda32 show me how to access the NuLife Adjustment Guides, and media suites, together with the hotel catalogues, from which I ordered some new furniture and clothing. All with the music cranked, a bottle of vinatge Widow in hand, and a running commentary from Miranda as to what suited me.
I felt nice to have my own space like this and to be able to try on various blouses, skirts, knickers, bras, tights, garters, trousers, suits, long dresses, short dresses, mini skirts, hotpants, shorts, bikinis, scarves, hats, gloves, coats, jackets, nighties, robes, jeans, teddies, thongs, boy-shorts, boy’s shirts, overcoats, boots, heels, sandals, capris, bustieres (though in my case there wasn’t much busting to be done), sunglasses, make-up, corsets, and LBDs. All of which ended up scattered around my room.
Once a slob, always a slob. When Miranda felt my frenzy abating, she sent out her bots to tidy, fold and put away. Since she had been so helpful today, my attitude to her was softening and I thought of "it" less and "she" more. I think she was starting to like me too, though I wasn't entirely sure of the justification for that. I did notice the music sometimes skipped a beat if I bent down and showed off my shapely bum.
I put a few selected items on the bed and asked Miranda to leave those, then spent another hour practicing walking in heels, doing up my bra, putting on make-up and all those other girlie things I had never really paid much attention to before. Miranda was actually very helpful, giving me tips and guidance along the way. After pulling on the fifth pair of silk stockings (the first four obviously not up to the task) I noticed my legs were unfeasibly smooth.
“Well, I guess I’ll have to get used to shaving those soon, either that or good old waxing” I mused aloud.
“Not in your case, Miss” said Miranda, and went on to explain that I had paid for the gene for armpit and leg hair to been suppressed. It turned out that retroviral research, biogenetics, nanotech and finally picotech had put paid to pretty much every disease known and unknown.
Even without another NuLife, I could expect a lifetime into the centuries, with no prospect of ever growning decrepit or sick. It explained that most people chose to start off with an appearance around the late teens before gradually topping out in their early twenties.
About an hour after this, Pix came by and I told her about my evening and morning. She lit up to hear Danny was back and I had a feeling Danny’s next port of call was going to be her tight little body. I suddenly felt a little jealous, not sure if it was because of Danny fucking Pix or the other way around. I thought about it a bit more and the jealously quickly passed, as I happily pictured my two lovers fucking. My eyes lost focus and Pix noticed, jabbing me in the ribs. I told her why and she promised to tell me all about it.
“Showing me the pics would be better” I said, half jokingly.
“That can be arranged. The Miranda’s have a full recording capability and can record anything. It’s on by default, ostensibly for your own protection, though nobody has ever explained what we could possibly need protection from. I think the Miranda’s are all a bit kinky and gossip about us, only because they can’t get fucked themselves.”
The concept of an AI with a sex drive was pretty bizarre, but the prospect of whiling away a lonely evening reviewing tapes of me getting fucked every which way had an appeal. Not that I thought I’d be seeing many lonely evenings, not with this body and my rampant nymphomania to feed.