**If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.** A Wedding Gift Part 1 of ? (M/F, f, mast, voy, sci fi) By Rzrsej Sam felt bone tired when they at last solidified on the jump pad. It wasn’t the journey – the matter transport had been straightforward enough, a matter of a few seconds from Tokyo to L.A. No, it had just been the longest of days. Satisfying, exhilarating, wondrous in so many ways, but excitement like that obviously comes with a price in energy, and Sam was glad to be back home where he could spend a good night’s sleep in his own bed. Somehow, Tai managed to look her usual radiant self beside him. If anything, she seemed to be more beautiful than she’d been this afternoon when she had seemed to float down the aisle in her wedding dress. He’d never seen anything like it, the way she’d look then, her dark, almond shaped eyes framed by her shimmering dark hair, her demure smile hiding what he knew was a wicked sense of humor and an occasionally kinky mind. “How can you possibly have so much energy after all that?” he asked her. “After all, I married the man of my dreams today,” she teased. “Why shouldn’t I feel good? Besides, the honeymoon night’s still to come – that’s the part I’ve really been looking forward to.” As tired as he was, Sam pepped up a bit at this. It wasn’t like they’d never slept together before, but he never tired of seeing her naked body, or better -- lying on top of it. And honeymoons are honeymoons after all – a first chance for sex as man and wife comes about only once. “And where would you like to spend our honeymoon, dear?” he asked with a grin. “Paris?” At his word, the room shifted to a street scene of Paris at night, with a magnificent view of the Eiffel Tower. “Kenya?” Abruptly, their surroundings changed again to a jungle path, a cacophony of birds and animals all around them. “Maybe a quick cuddle at the North Pole?” The inside of an igloo hut this time, the icy feel of the wind cutting through them even in the parkas they now wore. Even when it had disappeared, Sam still felt a shiver. A holo-room was nothing if not realistic. “No, no” Tai protested. “All I want, really, is to spend the night together, back in our own apartment, in our own bed.” Sam was relieved at that. He’d summon up any amount of excitement for her if she wanted it, spend time in any location if it would make her happy, but all the same he felt as though he’d had enough travel for a while. Tai continued, “Sit down, Sam,” and a loveseat appeared behind them. Sitting down, she patted the cushion beside her. When Sam was sitting beside her, she turned to him with a serious look on her face. “Sam,” she began, “I have something to tell you.” “It’s all over and you’re leaving me for a professional wrestler?” he joked, though her serious face had made him uneasy. “No, nothing like that,” she smiled. “No. It’s about a wedding gift from my father.” “What do you mean,” he asked, relieved, though she still seemed so serious. “Your father couldn’t possibly give us anything more. No one has ever treated me with as much kindness as your family, welcoming me into their home, putting together a wedding like that one. They must have spent a fortune on us.” Not that they didn’t have a fortune to spend, he thought. Mitch Siko was one of the richest film-makers who ever lived, his holographic works setting new standards in the form and renowned by critics and audiences alike around the world. Even so, Sam honestly couldn’t see what more the man could offer them – his entertainments over the past two weeks, and especially the last 24 hours had been lavish in the extreme. “This is different,” Tai said, still serious. “My father wanted to give you something very special, something he has spent almost a lifetime on.” She reached down to her bag then and, unzipping it, carefully pulled out a leather photo album. Holding it close to her chest, she continued, “ You’ve never seen any of my childhood pictures before.” It was true: he hadn’t. It wasn’t something he’d ever really thought about before, but now that she mentioned it, he did wonder how they could have date for four years without his never having seen one baby photo, one school photo, one shot of her at her first piano recital or cheering for the high school soccer team. He realized, in fact, that there hadn’t even been any photos in her parents’ home. “You see, my father is a bit eccentric as an artist. Oh, it doesn’t always show in his holo-films. He has a keen sense of what will sell, and he takes it as his sacred duty to make holos that will satisfy the audience. But there’s another side to him as well, a different sort of artistry. He takes it very seriously, and it can strike some as almost beyond avant garde. He’s made thousands of photos of me over the years, but no one but him has ever seen them. I’ve never even seen them myself, my mother’s never seen them, no one. You see, he wanted to create something that would be absolutely personal, so absolutely personal that it would only ever belong to one person – the man I married. This is my history,” she said, holding out the book to him then. “My whole life in an album. I’ve lived it, but you’re the first person to ever see it.” Sam didn’t know what to say exactly. The idea itself was difficult to take in, that someone would have the self-discipline, the artistic vision to put a project like this together; that he would recognize it’s value; that he would give it to Sam. He was speechless and misty-eyed. “Will you look at my life with me?” she asked gently but with genuine humility. He realized then what this mean not only to him, but to her – to share her experiences with someone in this way for the first time. And too, he recognized that she was genuinely asking. When she’d said this gift was for him, she’d meant it: she could look at these pictures only if he specifically allowed it. “Yes,” he said when he’d realized it. “That would be the most amazing thing I could think of doing tonight.” And he meant it. Cuddling up close, then, and leaning her head on his shoulder, she placed the album squarely into his lap. He was almost too mesmerized to even open it, but when at last he did, they looked down at her baby pictures. She was adorable in a pink satin gown, her little body obviously working as hard as it could to hold her infant’s head up and grin at the camera with her chubby little bow mouth. And in the green velvet jumper she wore in the next photo with the cute bow in her hair. And there were other pictures to explore as they turned the pages. Pictures of her with birthday cake smeared all over her face and hands, pictures of her doing a handstand in the park, pictures of her learning to ride a bike, her father running along beside her, his hand just inches from the back of her seat where he’d obviously just let go. When they came across pictures of her in a bikin at the beach when she was thirteen, Sam made a learing sound in his throat. “Settle down,” she laughed, and patted him on the knee. “I’m just thirteen there, after all. What kind of pervert are you?” But he knew she was only teasing. They went on through pictures of Tai with her date before the prom, pictures of her at graduation, and pictures of her first apartment at college.” They were all expertly taken, though they all managed to have the feel of intimate family photos. In some it was even clear that Tai was in a kind of teenager angst period and wanted no part of being photographed. She would roll her eyes, or stick her tongue out for the camera, or simply find a way to disappear behind this or that object. And yet somehow her personality, her essence, was always there. At the end of two hours, he felt that he’d come to know her in an entirely different way, and told her so. She beamed with pleasure, and it was clear that she too had enjoyed herself, seeing her own childhood again after all these years. She laughed: “What an ugly girl at some ages though, right?” “Are you kidding?” he gaped, “there’s never been anyone so beautiful.” “Right,” she rolled her eyes, “that ridiculous uneven haircut, the braces, and the glasses really showed how sexy I can be.” “Those were the ones I liked best of all,” he told her, and he meant it. She kissed him then, a long slow, kiss, he tongue lightly moving into his mouth to touch his. When she pulled away, however, she was serious once again. “Sam. There’s more, and I’m not sure what you will make of the rest.” “More?” he was dumbfounded. “What more? Has your dad hired the Boston symphony to play us to sleep? Will there be elephants? Cannon fire? Oh wait, strippers?” He nudged her in the ribs. “Not exactly,” she said cryptically, though she finally smiled at least a bit. “But close.” “Cool. I love elephants.” “No, not those,” she said. She took a deep breath: “Look. My father’s not really much of a photographer—“ Sam started to protest, but she held up one hand: “Oh, he’s good with concept, but he really only dabbles in pictures. No, you know, and the world knows, that his genius lies in making holofilms. He’s known the world over for his blockbusters, and those are impressive. I’m not so over-modest as not to admit that. But he makes a lot of films that no one ever sees. Personal projects, quirky material, arty kinds of films: those are his real passion. At the same time he began making this photo album, he began another, parallel project.” She reached down again to her bag, and this time pulled out a holo disk. Before she handed it to him, though, she took another deep breath. “I’m not entirely sure how you’re going to feel about this one, though.” She hesitated, but then placed the disk in his open palm. “This is another record of me, but this one’s . . . different. You can see it’s holofilm, and like the pictures it’s all me. And like the pictures, no one’s ever seen what’s on this disk.” Sam could only look at her and smile. If looking at her childhood pictures had helped him see his wife with new depth, what would holofilm of her do? What would it be like to watch her move, hear her voice at 10 or 12 or 15? He had already made a movement towards the disc slot on the far wall, when she stopped him: “Wait! It’s not exactly the same,” she said, her voice shaky with nervousness. “Oh, I guess there’s no smooth way to explain this, so I’ll just tell you. Since I was born, my father has been holofilming me, but not just making standard home movies. He’s been filming me naked.” Sam sat back down, a bit stunned. “See, I wasn’t sure how you’d take it.” “No, it’s ok,” Sam reassured her. “I’m only a bit confused. Do you mean you and he. . .” “Oh, no,” Tai laughed then, the tension leaving her face for a moment. “No, nothing like that. Well, not in the way you mean. It is sexual, and he meant it to be, but this was made for one person and one person only – you. He felt that the person I chose to marry might want to know me completely. Do you understand? Obviously you know me in the most intimate ways, as no one else has ever known me. And now you’ve seen what my childhood was like,” she patted the leather-bound album in her lap. “But that leaves out a big piece of my life – that part of me that was private before you met me, when I was a child. He wanted to give that to you as a gift, so that you, unlike any other man in the world, would know your wife completely, in every way.” She looked hard at him and asked again, “Do you understand?” “Yes,” he replied, “I think so. But I’m still not exactly sure what it is. These are pictures or video of you naked as you were growing up?” “Sort of, but much, much more than that. It’s interactive holofilm, which means you aren’t limited to just seeing me as I looked then. You can touch me, talk to me, kiss me, anything you want, and at any age you want. You can dress me up, or have dinner with me, or talk about Nietschze if that’s what turns you on. “Can I . . .” he ventured. “Of course,” she answered. “That’s a big part of why dad made it in the first place. Do you find that too perverse?” “No,” he said quickly, and then added, “It’s unusual, but it makes a kind of sense in a way. I’d never consider doing that with a child, but then we’ve sort of already done that, if you know what I mean. So, it’s not exactly like doing it with a child.” “Exactly,” she smiled at him, relieved that he understood. “I knew I’d married the right man. But of course, the me on this disc can be as childlike as you want her to be. Or as adult. But you’re right. You aren’t going to exactly scar me at this point.” “So, what’s it like?” “Honestly, I don’t know. Like my pictures, I’ve never seen any of this. No one has. But it’s as real as holofilm, which is as real as life. And some of it is actual recordings of my life, not just an image that’s been filled with life. “What do you mean,” he asked. “Well, let me show you.” She walked over to the wall then, slid the disc in and studied the contents that pulled up on the wall monitor. When she found what she was looking for, she selected it, pressed play, and came back to sit down beside Sam. Just as she had settled herself next to him and taken his hand, the world before them changed completely. Before them was a bedroom, obviously a girl’s bedroom with pink-patterned wall paper, posters of young male singers hanging, a white desk filled with clutter, and a pink princess bed in the middle. “I never was much of a housekeeper,” Tai muttered in his ear. There were clothes lying here and there on the carpeted floor, a pair of jeans draped over the desk chair, and a small stack of paperback books on the bed. Within moments, the door opened, and Tai walked in – or at least a thirteen-year-old version of Tai anyway. She was dressed in a short blue pleated skirt, with a t-shirt tan t-shirt hanging down below her waist. Her feet were in flip flops, but she kicked them off almost immediately. As in the pictures from her at this age, her hair was cut unevenly, the right side hanging down to her shoulder, the left cut close to he scalp. Her lips puckered from the braces behind them, and she wore glasses with dark rims. She closed the door behind her, and after taking a step or two forward, turned back around and locked it. Sam felt himself in a kind of paradise, watching his current wife as she walked matter-of-factly about her room. Her every move was lithe, from the way her heels never seemed to quite touch the floor to the way she tossed her hair to get it out of her eyes. She seemed to be looking for something, opening drawers and rifling through the contents, checking her jeans’ pockets, and at one point even getting down on her hands and knees and looking under the bed. She finally seemed to discover what it was she was searching for in one of the books on her bed. It was a piece of paper, torn from a magazine, creased from having been folded and stuffed in pockets and drawers. Sam couldn’t quite make out what was on it from where he was sitting, and it hadn’t yet occurred to him he could move to another vantage, but Tai whispered in his ear the name of a singer who had been big at the time. Again in a matter of fact way, which made sense given that she was alone, the 13 year-old Tai reached to her waist and pulled her shirt up over her head. Reaching behind her with both hands (and poking her tongue out cutely to the side), she undid her bra and tossed it in the general direction of her closet. Her just-budding breasts stood up firmly on her chest, the nipples small, dark and hard. Just as casually, she unzipped the zipper on the side of her skirt and slid both skirt and panties to the floor. She stepped out of them, and, rather than move to the bed, she sat down crosslegged on the floor in front of her desk. She held the picture at arm’s length and looked at it for a few moments, and then Sam could see that she’d moved her right hand down the length of her stomach and between her legs. He could see her elbow move slightly, as her hand moved back and forth and she continued to look at the picture as though she might burn a hole in it. Tai leaned over and whispered in his ear again: “I’m trying to imagine him with no clothes. This is the first time I’ve ever tried this.” With that, she moved her hand to his crotch, where his cock was already straining against the fabric of his pants. He could say nothing, and it seemed as though his mouth had lost all its moisture. In front of him, the young Tai shifted position, leaning her back against the desk drawers and uncrossing her legs so that she was spread in front of him, her knees up slightly. He was mesmerized at the sight: her hand cupped her pussy, but he could see behind her wrist that she was just beginning to grow a few whispy black hairs. She seemed to be experimenting with herself as she went. For a while she turned her hand sideways and seemed to saw between the lips, up and down. Other times she would press the heel of her hand hard into clit, the rest of her fingers splayed out in front of her. Setting the picture down, but keeping her eyes fixed on it, she used two hands to spread the smooth lips apart, and tentatively pushed her index finger into the hole. The moved it in and out for a while, her finger coming out wetter and wetter. At length, she seemed to grow tired of this, though, and she sat up. Looking around the room, she noticed a hairbrush lying a few feet away and, lying flat on her belly, she stretched out a hand until she had it. Sitting back up, she used her left hand to open her pussy’s lips again, and her right to slowly and gently guide the hand of the brush into her cunt. She closed her eyes then, leaning her head back against the drawers and slowly began moving the brush in and out. Her left hand moved up to her clit and began making soft irregular circles. She never looked at the picture again but rather kept her eyes tightly shut as she masturbated faster and faster. Within five minutes, Sam saw her raise her hips off the floor, her heels digging hard into the carpet, and he heard a small gasp escape her lips. She trembled, her whole body moving in little spasms until finally her orgasm seemed to pass. She went sort of limp then, allowing her knees to come down, arms to fall to the floor. Still, the end of the hairbrush remained sticking obscenely from her cunt. “Pause” Tai told the program, and Sam noticed for the first time that Tai’s hand was now inside his pants and firmly holding the shaft of his penis.