Pie Box 1

by George Saoulidis

  He kissed her on the arm. “There,” he said, and laid the piece on her.

  “And this one?”

  He pulled her t-shirt up and kissed her belly. “There,” he said and put the lower torso piece on her.

  “And that one?”

  “That,” Hector chuckled and leaned forward on his arms, “is a crotch guard.”

  Cherry nodded and held her eyes wide, looking impatient. “Well? Carry on, mister.”

  Hector pulled her shorts down and kissed her over the panties. He took his time, and she was already feeling warm and mushy.

  “Why the delay, master armourer?” she teased, practically moaning.

  “I can’t seem to measure it right. I’ll need to see it better.” And then he slid his hand under her butt, raised it and pulled her panties off with a powerful, swift motion.

  If she hadn’t been wet by that point, this would have definitely done the job.

  “Oh, found the cherry!” Hector said, exploring her body, and locating her birthmark. After a long while of kissing and brushing her skin with his fingers, and driving her absolutely nuts, he left her alone for a second. “Excuse me...”

  Cherry panted hard, splayed out on the workbench and feeling the cool air on her privates, staring at the ceiling. She was flustered, excited, scared but only a tiny bit, and absolutely, positively horny.

  Hector came back from his room with a condom. Well. At least he was careful. He licked his thumb and raised it to her in a thumbs up gesture.

  She hesitated for a second. She looked down at herself, her legs still open and ready to receive. Even her subconscious limb placement was telling her to go for it. She licked her thumb too and pressed it on his. They both got the green ‘go ahead’ signal and a tiny yelp escaped her throat.

  Hector climbed on the workbench on top of her and gently touched her cheek with the back of his hand. “Are you sure you want this? I don’t want to force you into doing anything you don’t wa-”

  “Oh, just fucking take me already!” she breathed out and kissed him, wrapping her legs around him.

  DROP EIGHTY

  The next morning, Pickle was doing the dishes. Hector walked up to her and leaned on the kitchen counter next to her.

  “Mornin’,” she said.

  “Good morning, Pickle. I... uh, need to admit something to you.”

  She washed a plate. “What’s bothering you?”

  He slashed the air with his palm. “Okay, here it is, ripping the bandage. I had sex with Cherry last night.” He stopped and looked at her reaction.

  Pickle stopped brushing for just a second, then resumed.

  “I don’t know if you girls talk about these things or not, and I wanted to tell you first, because I kinda feel bad about it.”

  Pickle brushed harder. She looked at the sink. “Why would you feel bad about it?”

  “Because, I don’t wanna become like Nicomedes, Pickle!”

  Pickle smiled and turned to him, raising a foamy finger to touch his chin. “Oh, Hector, you never have to worry about that. He’ll never be half the man you are.”

  “Okay. If you say so. You’re gonna have to tell me one day what the deal is between you two.

  Pickle shrugged.

  “Back to last night, I wanted to tell you because you’re so protective of Cherry.”

  Pickle went back to washing the next plate. “Why, are you planning to hurt her?”

  Hector started. “What? No, never!”

  “Okay then. You’re both adults. She is a fucking child compared to us and if you ask me, you should find someone our age, but legally, she can do what she wants.” Pickle’s voice slowly went up and she cracked the plate, sending pieces everywhere.

  “Pickle, whoa, are you hurt?” Hector leaned in, worried. He snatched and held her arm up.

  “Augmented, dummy. I can’t get hurt.” She turned her head away. “Not like that, anyway,” she muttered.

  Hector checked her arm. “Yeah, it looks fine. Now, seriously, Pickle, I didn’t plan for this but it happened. It’s done. Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

  Pickle reached for the sponge. She held it up in her augmented hand towards him. “Why wouldn’t I be?” She batted her eyelashes at him and smiled eerily. “But, if you hurt my friend, I will crush your balls,” she deadpanned.

  Then she squeezed the sponge, white foam coming out from between her fingers.

  “Very... vivid,” Hector said with a gulp. “Got it.”

  DROP EIGHTY-ONE

  Hector washed his face and then had a bird bath on the downstairs sink. His home was getting crowded, and he felt conflicted about that. He could admit he liked the company of both women and he wasn’t looking forward to going back to the bachelor life. But, it was getting a bit on his nerves.

  He had surrendered the upstairs bathroom, using it only when he needed a shower. Which was often, especially after working on his forge, that thing was hot as fuck, which was the whole point really. The bathroom upstairs had seen an explosion of beauty products and various fragrances, face masks and other arcane womens-stuff. Not that Cherry needed anything to look hot, but she did become even sexier when she got dolled up. He wished he had the time to take her out somewhere nice someday, but between working at the shop and the building of the team... Yeah, it wasn’t gonna happen anytime soon.

  The girls had brought up some old equipment from the garage and were using it for weights to work out. The living room had become an impromptu gym, and Hector didn’t mind going up and watching Cherry’s rock-hard ass become even perkier as she bobbed to loud music.

  Obviously, the living room wouldn’t do in the long term. He’d have to figure out something for their workouts. Perhaps a deal with a gym somewhere close? It would be nice for all of them to get out of the house at a regular schedule. He made a note to ask around, check with the other shopkeepers, someone always knew someone suitable. Everyone was related in Athens, or at the very least, knew each other by two-degrees-of-separation.

  But that would cost more money, and the team wasn’t really making it rain so far. No, he needed to keep it lean for now, expand only as needed. The girls would have to squeeze in for now, and perhaps he could arrange a few gym-sessions per month so they could actually use proper workout gear.

  He looked at his face in the mirror. Was he turning into that sleazebag, Nicomedes? Pickle said no, and she wouldn’t mince words. He didn’t think so too, but it was a fine line. On the one hand, he had to play the game, please the fans, keep them wanting more. On the other he needed to be respectful of the women now depending on him, simply because nobody else would.

  He’d just have to walk the tightrope and keep his balance.

  DROP EIGHTY-TWO

  “Ta-da!” Hector said, pulling the stand in view. There were two armours hanging up there, like coats from a dry-cleaner’s on a special holder. “This is it, your new armour. Nice, huh?” he said proudly.

  Cherry raised her upper lip. “Eh.”

  “What? No ‘eh,’ you meant, ‘wow,’ right?” Hector asked.

  “It’s good, but I honestly think it could be better,” Cherry said, holding her arms around her body defensively.

  “Oh. Okay, tell me how,” Hector said, his shoulders sagging.

  “Well, for starters, since you forced this whole Pie theme on us, we could have the equivalent colours,” Cherry said, tugging on the sleeve. It looked new and smelled like the various materials used in making it, plastic, metal, other chemicals. It actually looked badass.

  “Cherry for you, dark red? And dark green for Pickle. Sure, why not. Less is more, we can do the highlights on the metal inserts.”

  Getting more courageous, Cherry went on. “Yeah. And this waist here, it’s a bit too wide.”

  “It’s meant to protect your vital organs, Cherry, not to show off your hourglass figure.”

  “I know, but, we can keep the protection and play a bit with the lines. Trust me, if you do a curved line like th
is,” she showed with her palm, “and let the curve go on like this on the chestplate, it’s gonna look feminine, without losing any of the thickness.”

  Hector stepped close and looked at the spot she was talking about. “Huh. Sure, why not? Get me a sketch, I can’t actually see it right now, but I can work something out if you draw it for me.”

  Cherry pulled her head back. “Really? You wanna incorporate my design?”

  “Of course. I’ve seen your comics, you have a good eye. But, I’m telling you beforehand, a lot of cool ideas look good on paper but they don’t work on the material. Reality is a bit more restrictive in what you can practically make, but we can work on improving the aesthetics. Cyberpink is a show, after all, isn’t it?” He smiled at her.

  Her breath caught. “Y-Yes. It is. I’ll work on it right away!”

  “We can make it a project, you and me. Spend some time together, it’ll be fun,” Hector said and bumped her sideways with his body.

  Cherry squealed internally for a solid thirty seconds. Externally, she got on her toes and grabbed his face, kissing him deeply with plenty of tongue.

  He managed to get a breath in after a while. “Wow! I guess you like my idea?”

  “I love it!” she beamed at him. “I’m off to do some drafts.” She dashed away from the workshop and up the stairs to get her drawing tablet.

  DROP EIGHTY-THREE

  Cherry groaned loudly and swiped the sketch away, throwing it into the digital trash can.

  "What in Tartarus are you doing in the middle of the night?" Pickle mumbled, rubbing her sleepy eyes. She turned on the lights.

  "Oh, sorry, didn't mean to wake you up," Cherry said, hugging her drawing tablet. "I was just drawing."

  "Can't sleep?" Pickle said, frowning.

  "Nah..."

  "Then why do I have to suffer along with you, poutana?" Pickle snapped back, calling her ‘bitch,’ clearly annoyed.

  "I said I was sorry!" Cherry pouted, lowering her head. "I'll go in the kitchen." She stood up and walked towards the door.

  Pickle grabbed Cherry's pyjamas as she went past. "Wait... I shouldn't have shouted at you, but you know how cranky I get if I don't get my sleep..." She pulled her close to the bed.

  Cherry stood in defiance, rolling her eyes.

  Pickle patted the bed beside her, and after a while, Cherry sat her butt right on that spot, still hugging her drawing tablet.

  "Tell me what's bothering you," Pickle sighed.

  "It's Hector."

  "Of course it is. What did he do?" Pickle asked, sleepily.

  "Nothing. On the contrary, I suggested some changes in our armour designs, and he asked me to sketch it out and give it to him."

  "I'm not seeing the problem, dear," Pickle groaned, hugging her pillow. She yawned loudly.

  "I just want it to be perfect, and this isn't perfect!" Cherry said, turning the tablet over to her friend.

  Pickle pried one eye open and looked at the drawing. "It looks awesome," she said simply.

  "No! It's not perfect..." Cherry nagged.

  "Cherry, it doesn't have to be. You two can make adjustments as time goes by. Just start with something and mould it up. No prototype is ever perfect, we wouldn't call them prototypes if they were. Hector knows that, I'm sure."

  Cherry huffed and puffed, pulling her legs up and close to her body. "No, you're not getting it..."

  "I know what you're afraid of. You think if you do a bad job at this, that he'll somehow stop liking you. Honey, look in the mirror sometime. I don't wanna get your head in the clouds, but you're a hottie. You could vomit on their shoes and men still would wanna sleep with you," Pickle said, booping her nose.

  Cherry chewed her lip, thinking about it for a few moments. "Really? You mean that?"

  "Will that answer give me some peace and quiet so I can finally get some shut-eye? Yes, I do mean it." Pickle said, and slapped the wall blindly a bunch of times. On the fourth try, she got the lights to turn off.

  Cherry looked down at the illuminated screen. She leaned on her sleeping friend, her back on Pickle’s butt as if it was a couch’s pillow. She opened a new sheet and started to draw Pickle, the way she saw her. Cranky, loving and wise.

  In the early hours of the morning, just as the light was starting to trickle in, she got it. She decided to go all-in with their stupid theme. She made some wrinkly green lines for Pickle's armour, and some shiny dark-red highlights for her own.

  Once she was done with the sketches, she propped the drawing tablet up on her pillow and stood up to take a look at it from afar. She even tilted her head all the way to one side, then the other. Yup, this was it. This design finally looked good.

  Good enough for a kiss. Good enough for Hector to love her.

  DROP EIGHTY-FOUR

  "Wow, you've really captured Pickle in this sketch," Hector said, admiring the file on his veil.

  Cherry bit her nails impatiently. "Yeah, yeah, what about the design?"

  "’Wow’ about that too!" Hector smiled. "It rocks, Cherry. I love it."

  "Really? You mean that? You're not just saying it to be nice?"

  "I mean it. Here, let's do a test," Hector said, and sent the file to Tony on his veil.

  The response was almost instantaneous, his text said, "Are those the new armour designs? I think I came a little..."

  Hector winced, and turned to Cherry. "See? Fans will love it."

  Cherry got on her tippy-toes and hugged him tight. Then she ran off to get a nap before the morning workout.

  Pickle walked past her while balancing her coffee, barely avoiding a collision with the team's qwik. She stuck a thumb at her direction. "What's up with her?"

  "Uh... No clue. She was way excited, showed me the armour designs she came up, I told her they're great, and she hugged me and darted off to her room," Hector said, doing his own sketches on how to break the individual parts down for the armours.

  "Oh, that explains it." She took a sip of her coffee.

  "Explains what? I have no clue what just happened."

  Pickle smiled. "Never mind, you big dummy." She patted his arm.

  Hector looked annoyed now. "Seriously, what?"

  "I'm going for a morning run. When she wakes up, please tell her to meet me outside. You can track where I am anyway. We’ll visit the Loux HQ for that slushie recipe." Pickle turned her back and left Hector alone.

  DROP EIGHTY-FIVE

  Pickle and Cherry got off at the side of the road. The self-driving taxi waited patiently for the door to shut, then chimed in joy for a ride completed and went back towards Athens.

  The factory was quite large, larger than Pickle expected. Loux was a big brand, mainly selling soft drinks.

  Cherry looked bored, as usual.

  “I told you, you didn’t need to tag along,” Pickle frowned at her as they walked in the lobby.

  “I’ve got nothing else to do.” Cherry glanced sideways at the various posters and AR ads they had splayed all over the place. They were both old ads, showcasing the retro side of the company, and new ones, promoting their new flavours.

  “Oh? Was Hector too busy to play with you?” Pickle teased but didn’t hang around to get a reply. She went to the reception lady. “I have an appointment, name is Pickle Pie,” she nodded.

  “Of course. Please wait here, grab a refreshment while you’re at it!” she said, smiling. It was a fake smile.

  Cherry sat down and pouted. Then a drone came over, it was a square fridge, which opened its mouth to reveal a selection of beverages from the company. Frost came out of it in little huffs. “Ooh, cherry-flavour, nice.” Cherry shamelessly grabbed three bottles.

  Pickle eyed her.

  “What? She said to grab a refreshment. I’m thirsty, these bottles are tiny,” Cherry complained and downed one in a single gulp.

  Pickle clicked her tongue. “What’s up?”

  “Nothing,” Cherry shrugged and put her feet on the fridge drone.

  “Come on, I’m n
ot your boyfriend. Don’t give me that ‘nothing’ crap,” Pickle said, rolling her eyes.

  “No, seriously, nothing is happening. It’s all good,” Cherry shrugged, drinking more juice.

  Pickle got it then. “Oh. You’re tense, waiting for something bad to happen.”

  Cherry raised her plastic bottle at her in a toast. “Am I wrong to do so?”

  Pickle looked away, breathing out of her nose. “No...”

  Cherry went a bit crazy at that point, arms wide, throwing the liquid all over with her tense gestures. “I mean, this! We’re here not to negotiate a sponsorship, but to complain that the fucking taste is not up to your pickle standards! We have a nice house to live in where I’m not terrified every night. And I have hartziliki to spare,” she said, using the Turkish word for allowance. “I finally get a bit of freedom to do anything, go anywhere, and have some money to use, and I’m still doing the same thing I would have anyway. I’m here with you to make sure you don’t intimidate your own fucking sponsor out of a deal.” The fridge drone struggled to leave but was pinned down underneath her legs.

  Pickle opened her mouth to argue, then shut it with a click. She was right. Cherry might be younger, impulsive, silly at times, but she wasn’t a fool. On the contrary, she cared. And that’s why this situation would hurt her the most if it went topsy-turvy. “You don’t know what you wanna do, now that you actually have a choice,” she said in the end.

  “Yeah? Something like that. I dunno...” Cherry sighed, sinking in her seat. She hugged her legs and the fridge drone finally managed to escape. It whirred away and vanished inside a nook in the wall especially made for it.

  “It’s normal, I guess. Most people don’t really know what they wanna do in life.”

  “I certainly don’t!”

  “Well, look. Let’s keep things simple. We still gotta train, we still gotta make the team. That will keep us occupied enough for this month, and the next.”